What Mr Blank Thought.
“Quick! Pray! Oh, Bruno, Bruno!” shrieked Gertrude, as she dashed forward to seize the dog—a vain attempt, for stronger hands had already failed to hold the furious beast, who had pricked up his ears at Mrs Denton’s mention of the name, and then, as Saul entered the room, given vent to a deep-toned roar, and, as if once more in possession of his full strength, leaped at his old enemy’s throat.
The attempt made by George Harrington to hold him was vain, but his second attempt was more successful, though it was made after receiving a heavy blow from the chair with which Saul struck at the dog, falling in the effort, to lie prone with Bruno’s teeth fixed in the tightly-buttoned collar of his coat.
“Let go, dog! Let go!” roared George, seizing Bruno’s collar with both hands, and by the exercise of his great strength wrenching him away with the collar of the coat in his teeth.
Then ensued a tremendous struggle, the dog making furious plunges to get at the prostrate figure, growling and barking the while, with the accompanying worrying sound made by a dog half mad with rage.
“It’s no good, my lad,” cried George excitedly. “I’ve got you. Hold still!”
For response the dog threw his head from side to side, making frantic plunges, and ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have let him go, but, after a desperate fight, Bruno was thrown and held securely, his opponent pressing him to the carpet by the help of his bended knee.
“He’s done,” panted the young man. “Do you give in, sir?”
The dog uttered a low whine, that sounded like a remonstrance, and lay quite still.
“Get that gentleman out of the room quickly. Or no. Here, Gertrude, show me where I can lock up the dog. A room, outhouse—anywhere.”