Phyllis had plunged ahead with the light, and the two other girls followed her in the shadow. Leslie was somewhat hampered in her advance, as she was holding Rags by his collar and he strongly objected to the restraint. But she dared not let him loose just then.
Suddenly they were plunged in utter darkness. Phyllis’s torch had given out! And the two others, reaching her side at that instant, heard her gasp, “Oh, dreadful! Can anything be the matter with this battery?” But after a moment’s manipulation the light flashed on again. It was in this instant that they saw the face of Ted, lying on the ground and staring up at them while his assailant held him firmly pinned beneath him in an iron grip.
“Help!” shrieked Ted, above the roar of the wind. “Let Rags loose!”
They needed no other signal. Leslie released her hold on the impatient animal, and with a snarl that was almost unnerving, he darted, straight as an arrow, for Ted’s assailant.
The girls never knew the whole history of that encounter. They only realized that Ted finally emerged from a whirling medley of legs and arms, limping but triumphant, and strove to loosen the dog’s grip on a man who was begging to be released.
“That’ll do, Rags, old boy! You’ve done the trick! Good old fellow! Now you can let go!” he shouted at the dog, trying to persuade him to loosen his hold. But Rags was obdurate. He could see no point in giving up the struggle at this interesting juncture.
“Call him off!” Ted shouted to the girls, “I can’t make him let go!”
“Is it safe?” cried Phyllis, in answer.
“We’ll have to take a chance!” he answered. “He’s half killing this fellow!”
With beating heart Leslie came into the range of the light, grasped Rags by the collar and pulled at him with all her might. “Come Rags! Let go! It’s all right!”