"Hold him!" she cried to Jim. "Between your knees! Force his mouth open! Mind yourself now."
She brought the stable-hose to bear upon the dog's extended mouth. He wrestled hugely in the grip of the young man's knees, gasping, spluttering, whining for mercy. But mercy there was none. The girl drenched him with the hose, and the man who was holding him.
"Go and get the tandem whip!" she cried.
Monkey ran.
"Now stand at the gates, both of you, and don't let him through."
Boy seized the whip and hunted the dog about the yard. He fled madly. For five minutes the girl pursued him remorselessly. Then he was violently sick.
"That's better," panted the girl. "Bring that meat, Brand."
She led the way into Four-Pound-the-Second's horse-box, followed by Silver, torch in hand.
"He's not taken much harm," she said, patting the horse in her deliberate way.
A delicious little figure she made in her striped pyjamas, her wrapper girt about her, her feet bare in shining black pumps, and her short hair thick and curling about her neck.