But that fear was instantly put to flight—Perk still knelt there, while the furious beast writhed on the ground, making frightful efforts to get up on its four feet again.
This he no sooner succeeded in doing than Perk let him have a second leaden pill, working his keepsake weapon of the great war with mechanical precision. How lucky then he must have succeeded in thrusting two cartridges into the maw of his gun, since there proved to be such great need of an encore.
It was “all over but the shouting,” as Perk himself would have put it. He rose to his feet, and coolly stepped forward, to bend over and see that there no longer remained a single breath in the carcase of the terrible brute he had stayed in his mad passage through the town.
The tenor of the wild shouts changed like magic—joy and triumph, not to say relief, began to be heard, as if reassuring the frightened populace there was no longer anything to be feared—the ogre Jabberwock had been laid low, and once again the length of Main Street could be traversed without peril to life and limb.
And the one who had performed this valorous deed seemed only anxious to make himself scarce before the worshiping citizens could lay hands on him—shower him with thanks, perhaps kisses as well from the gentler sex, who knew a hero in the flesh as well as on the Hollywood screen.
Jack was trying the best he knew how to allay the terror of the child he still held in his arms, speaking to him with assurance in his tones, and squeezing the white-faced little chap close to his heart.
“It’s all right, buddy,” he kept saying, with a comforting smile on his face, that was bound to stop the trembling sobs of the other, if anything could. “The ugly dog can’t hurt you, for he’s been killed, and can never bite anybody. You must have hurt your ankle, little brother; I’m going to carry you to where you live, so they can take care of you, and get the kind doctor to take the pain away. Put your arms around my neck, and I’ll be able to hold you better—that’s the way, kiddie; you know I’m a good friend of yours, don’t you?”
The crowd was all around them by this time, milling so as to get as close as possible—it reminded Jack of cattle being rounded up by expert punchers, so as to be shipped to market, or it might be, branded.
“Stand back, please, and give us air!” Jack called out, to add: “Perk, see that they don’t crowd in any further. I’m not going to be satisfied until I’ve seen this little lad safe in his home. Who knows where he lives?”
There were a dozen voices raised in explanations; but Jack lifted a hand to stop the confused racket.