Ned spoke in a hurried whisper to the gunner.
“Change weapons with me sharp,” he said; “our lives depend upon it.”
Mr. Triggs looked intensely astonished, as well he might, but he knew by the seaman’s emphatic manner that he meant business, and that there was no time for explanations. Indeed, as Ned spoke, he thrust his loaded rifle into the warrant-officer’s hand, and whipped the latter’s sword out of its scabbard. The next moment—like a dream it seemed to me—he was standing at the foot of the tree with the glittering blade in his hand. Just at that very instant I saw a bloodhound, its eyes aflame with anger and its jaws dropping saliva, rush out from behind a clump of trees, and bound fiercely in my coxswain’s direction. It appeared to be alone.
Still it seemed a dream—all a dream!
I was spellbound.
Not so Mr. Triggs! He was instantly alive to the situation, and began scrambling down from the tree with great precipitation, carrying the rifle with him—not an easy feat by any means even for a sailor!
It seemed to me that the fierce dog only took a couple of prodigious bounds, and then sprang deliberately at Ned, utterly regardless of the deadly sword blade. Like a man-eating tiger, he evidently relied upon his weight and the suddenness of his attack.
I saw my coxswain aim a blow at the huge brute as it rushed in upon him; but the next instant I saw him borne backwards to the ground as the animal closed with him. At the same instant I caught sight of the gunner raising his rifle to his shoulder as if with the intention of blowing out the bloodhound’s brains.
It was no longer a dream, but a living tragical reality; and there was I, safely ensconced in a tree, while my daring shipmates were fighting for their lives with what was practically a savage wild beast! Of course I saw now that Ned had unselfishly wished to place us in safety before confronting the bloodhound single-handed. Recalled to myself, and anxious to lend any assistance that lay in my power, I hastily commenced to descend the tree; but as ill-luck would have it, I grasped a rotten branch, which came away in my hand, and I was precipitated to the ground—fortunately from no great height. As I fell, I fancied I heard loud snarling and a deep moan. The next instant I was on my feet again, feeling rather confused, but having suffered nothing but one or two bruises. I was immensely relieved by the sight that met my gaze, which made an impressive tableau.
The bloodhound lay stretched out on the ground, stone-dead, with a puncture in the region of the heart. Ned was kneeling on the ground close to the body of his assailant, and holding a gory sword in his right hand. Leaning upon his rifle, and gazing down at the defunct beast, stood Mr. Triggs.