“Perhaps he is nervous, too,” said Tioka. “Very likely he is nervous because he wants a bone.” And the child broke into a peal of shrill, merry laughter.
In an instant the great dog had turned and leaped upon him. Snarling and growling he tore at his clothes, covering his shoulders and breast with blood-stained foam.
Tioka fell shrieking to the ground. I flung myself upon the frenzied animal, seizing him by the collar, by the ears, and striving to drag him back; but with hoarse growls and snappish barks the dog kept biting and tearing the child's garments as he lay prostrate and inert on the gravel. With one hand I clutched the neck of the dog, while with the other I picked up a stone and beat him on the head with it until the blood ran.
With a roar like that of a tiger, the animal turned and sprang upon me.
I felt the sting of his fang as it bit into my arm, and I struck his nose with the stone which was already covered with blood. With a cry of pain that had almost a human sound, the dog released his hold, turned and went off.
I saw him trotting away along the path, surly and dreadful, with his tail hanging down and his wounded head showing red in the sunshine.
I picked up the moaning, sobbing Tioka and ran with him to the house.
“Don't cry! don't cry, my darling,” I implored him, myself in tears. “Don't let poor grandmama hear you! It will kill her.” And Tioka tried his best to cry more softly. We crossed the courtyard to the servants' entrance, and I ran into the kitchen where the servants came thronging round us in alarm.
“The dog—,” I panted, “the dog has bitten us—do you think it will give us hydrophobia?” With a groan I dropped little Tioka into a chair; he was a pitiable sight in his torn and bloodstained garments.
The women and the two moujiks wrung their hands. “Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! What shall we do? With the master at Kieff and the Countess ill in bed!”