met Stoggs one dark night and nearly kicked the life out of him. He had to give up business, for they crippled him."
"Go ahead," encouraged Frank.
"He had some pol—politicattle friends, I think they call it. One of them was a sharp lawyer. He raked up a lot of old ord—ordinants."
"Ordinances, I suppose you mean?" suggested Frank.
"Yes, sir, that sounds more like it,—anyway, village laws, see? They said Riverton should have a pound. They worked it so that Stoggs got the job of poundmaster. The town pays him a big rent for these old barracks. Used to be a trotting park. He drives around in a little dog cart, and picks up all the stray horses and cows he can catch. Then the owners have to pay two dollars to get them out of the pound. Stoggs gets half. Wish that was Stogg," and the boy kicked a dirt clump so hard that he stubbed his toe and winced.
"And what about the dogs?" asked Frank.
"That's a new wrinkle. About a month ago Stoggs' lawyer fished up another old law about dog license, or tax, or something of that kind. Since then he's been capturing all the dogs he could find for miles around. It wouldn't matter, If he was kind to them," went on the lad," but he isn't. He
