Mrs. Gore opened her Tunbridge-ware box, and resumed her much interrupted work. Little Willy crept to his mother's side, and looked his thanks for all the trouble that she had taken for him, for he had dictated, not written his tale. Old Mrs. Presgrave was comfortably placed on the sofa, and the lamp carefully screened from her eyes; again the packet of papers was produced, and Mr. Presgrave read as follows, Fowell's own account of a perilous adventure:
Tom's Tale.
THE MAD DOG.
"As you must hear the story of our dog Prince, may as well tell it you."
"On Thursday morning, when I got on my horse at S. Hoare's, David told me that there was something the matter with Prince, that he had killed the cat, and almost killed the new dog, and had bit at him and Elizabeth. I ordered him to be tied up, and taken care of, and then rode off to town. When I got into Hampstead I saw Prince covered with mud, and running furiously, and biting at everything. I saw him bite at least a dozen dogs, two boys, and a man."
"Of course, I was exceedingly alarmed, being persuaded he was mad. I tried every effort to stop or kill him, or to drive him into some outhouse, but in vain. At last he sprang up at a boy, and seized him by the breast. Happily I was near him, and knocked him off with my whip. He then set off towards London, and I rode by his side, waiting for some opportunity of stopping him. I constantly spoke to him, but he paid no regard to coaxing or scolding. You may suppose I was seriously alarmed, dreading the immense mischief he might do, having seen him do so much in the few preceding minutes. I was terrified at the idea of his getting into Camden Town and London, and at length considering that if ever there was an occasion that justified a risk of life, this was it, I determined to catch him myself. Happily, he ran up to Pryor's gate, and I threw myself from my horse upon him, and caught him by the neck; he bit at me and struggled, but without effect ..."
"His struggles were so desperate that it seemed at first impossible to hold him, till I lifted him up in the air, when he was more easily managed, and I contrived to ring the bell. I was afraid that the foam which was pouring from his mouth, in his furious efforts to bite me, might get into some scratch and do me injury; so, with great difficulty, I held him with one hand, while I put the other into my pocket and forced on my glove; then I did the same with my other hand."
"And at last the gardener opened the door, saying, 'What do you want?'"
"'I've brought you a mad dog,' replied I, and telling him to get a strong chain, I walked into the yard, carrying the dog by his neck. I determined not to kill him, as I thought if he should prove not to be mad, it would be such a satisfaction to the three persons whom he had bitten."
"I made the gardener (who was in a terrible fright) secure the collar round his neck, and fix the other end of the chain to a tree, and then walking to its farthest range, with all my force, which was nearly exhausted by his frantic struggles, I flung him away from me, and sprang back. He made a desperate bound after me, but finding himself foiled, he uttered the most fearful yell I ever heard ..."