As they were walking slowly along a large gray shape came bounding toward them. Almost in front of them it came to a stop. It was a dog.
Hal reached forth a hand and patted the animal on the head, and the dog’s tail wagged in friendship. But when the German officer also stretched forth a hand, he uttered a menacing growl.
“He must be one of your French war dogs,” said the German with a laugh, quickly withdrawing his hand. “We have captured a large number of them, and, in spite of the fact that we treat them as well as we know how, they will have nothing to do with us.”
At that moment another German officer approached the trio, and, as he came closer, the dog snarled and showed his teeth. The German drew back his foot, and, before anyone could interfere, kicked the animal sharply in the ribs.
But the German paid dearly for this act, for, with one quick bound, the dog leaped upon his assailant, and, snarling fiercely, bore him to the ground. Hal, Chester and their officer friend jumped quickly forward, and, after a sharp tussle, succeeded in dragging the dog off, though not until he had considerably shaken up his victim, even drawing blood from a wound in his throat.
With a fierce imprecation, the German reached for his revolver, drew it quickly, and aimed it at the dog. But, before he could pull the trigger, Chester leaped forward, and, with a quick movement of his arm, knocked the weapon from the German’s hand.
The German turned angrily on the lad.
“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, in a rage.