The tangle of dead roots was quite dry, and kindled easily when the lantern-candle was held against it, so that it was scarcely a minute before a bright blaze was crackling.
That moment had been enough, however, for the near approach of the dogs, as they knew by the increasing loudness of their cries, to which Rex bravely responded; and it was not long before they heard them crashing through the underbrush, and saw their eyes—fiery pairs of dots which reflected the firelight in flashes of green or red—though the forms of the savage animals were hidden in the gloom.
Tug had hastily lopped off a young sapling and trimmed it into a long, rough club, which he now held in the fire, in hope that the green wood would get hardened, or perhaps even ablaze. Jimmy clutched the hatchet tightly in his right hand, and his open jackknife in his left, while Rex bristled and barked. All the goblin fright had vanished, and the boys no longer trembled because sleet and wind made uncanny noises, or the firelight seemed to summon eldritch forms from the aisles of darkness between the hemlocks.
There seemed to be three of the fierce brutes, and they stopped as they came in sight of the fire and the group ready to receive them; but after a short pause the largest dog, with a tremendous bark, rushed forward, the others following savagely at his heels. Rex was crouching and ready, so that before either of the boys could seize his collar he had sprung to meet his foes, and had gone down under their combined weight.
It was one of the strangest dog-fights known to history, and had the strangest end. In his broad collar, his long hair, and his greater health the Newfoundland had the advantage; but he was one and his foes were three, and they had no chivalrous ideas of fairness or mercy in a fight, but were savages, bent not only upon the death of their victim, but upon tearing him in pieces and devouring him afterwards.
No sooner did Tug see Rex leap, and perceive the charge upon him, than he shouted "Give it to 'em!" and sprang into the snow, punching the nearest brute, bayonet fashion, with the hot tip of his sapling spear, while Jim got in at least one good blow with his hatchet. It sank almost to the haft in the neck of one of the youngest dogs, and he dropped dead with scarcely a shudder.
Meeting this unexpected resistance, so determined, fiery (Tug's sapling bore a little streamer of flame, like the banner on the head of a Cossack's lance), and so fatal to one of their number, the two remaining dogs were abashed, and let go of Rex, intending to fight with their human assailants. But they had no time to make the change. Seeing that he must follow up his advantage, Tug charged again, and fairly put the startled brutes to flight by the combined force of his yells and his blazing bayonet, backed by Jim and his terrible hatchet.
When the boys saw that the dogs had really run away, they turned to look after their own brave ally, but he was nowhere to be seen, though the blazing stump lit up the whole scene of the battle.
"Why, where's Rex?" they asked one another, and called and whistled. Could he have fled into the forest? Impossible. Hark! was not that a faint whine?—and another?
"Do you think he can be dying, and has hid himself in the brush?" asked Jim. "They say wounded animals do do that."