"I don't know what you are talking about, but I do know that whenever
they take hold of anything they have to be treated for lockjaw before
they will let go. If you don't come up here beside me I'll have a fit,
Mr. Crosby."

"That's it--that's what I mean," he cried eagerly. "If they close those
jaws upon anything they won't let go until death them doth part. Gad, I
believe I see a way out of this pickle."

"I don't see how that can help us. The dog's jaws are the one and only
obstacle, and it is usually the other fellow's death that parts them.
Oh," she went on, plaintively, "if we could only pull his teeth. Good
heaven, Mr. Crosby," sitting up very abruptly, "you are not thinking of
undertaking it, are you?"

"No, but I've got a scheme that will make Swallow ashamed of himself to
the end of his days. I can't help laughing over it." He leaned back and
laughed heartily. "Hold my coat, please." He removed his coat quickly
and passed it up to her.

"I insist on knowing what you intend doing," she exclaimed.

"Just wait and see me show Mr. Swallow a new trick or two." He had
already taken his watch and chain, his fountain pen, and other effects
from his vest, jamming them into his trousers pockets. Mrs. Delancy, in
the growing darkness, looked on, puzzled and anxious.

"You might tell me," she argued resentfully. "Are you going to try to
swim out?"