' How much are they paying you for this? ' he asked.
' I only get fifty dollars. '
' And the man who stole him - how much did he get? ' asked the barman.
' A hundred. He wouldn't take less. '
' That makes a hundred and fifty. It's a good price for a dog like him. Here, help me to get into this. '
They took off Buck's rope and pushed him into a wooden box. He spent the night in the box in the back room of the bar. His neck still ached with pain from the rope, and he could not understand what it all meant. What did they want with him, these strange men? And where was Mr. Miller?