McQuade lost his temper and his discretion. He kicked Jove cruelly in
the side, at the very moment when Warrington had succeeded in breaking
the grip. Bennington thrust McQuade back violently, and he would have
fallen but for the dense pack bolstering him up.
"I'll remember that kick, Mr. McQuade," said Warrington, white in the
face.
"I don't think you'll be mayor of Herculaneum, Mr. Warrington,"
replied McQuade, glaring venomously at the man who had brushed him
aside so easily.
"Perhaps not, Mr. McQuade," said Warrington; "but at any rate there'll
be a reckoning for that kick. You've been trying for months to bring
these dogs together. You have finally succeeded, and your dog has been
licked soundly. You ought to be satisfied."
Warrington took Jove under his arm and pressed toward the door,
followed by Bennington, who was also in a fine rage. The dog, bloody
and excited, still struggled, though the brutal kick had winded him.
McQuade was no fool. He saw that if Warrington left this way the
impression would not be favorable to the boss contractor. So he made
haste to approach Warrington.
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