This enormous dog had seized the beast by one hock, and with his paws against the pony was endeavouring to tear the monster off.
The noise, the movement, the terror, caused poor Roland's head to whirl.
He felt dazed, and almost stupid.
Ah! but Peggy was clear-headed, and a brave and fearless child was she.
Her feet seemed hardly to touch the moss, so lightly did she spring along.
Her little rifle was cocked and ready, and, taking advantage of a few seconds' lull in the fearful scrimmage, she fired at five yards' distance.
The bullet found billet behind the monster's ear, his grip relaxed, and now Brawn tore him easily from his perch and finished him off on the ground, with awful din and habbering.
Then, with blood-dripping jaws he came with his ears lower, half apologetically, to receive the praise and caresses of his master and mistress.
But though the adventure ended thus happily, frightened beyond measure, the ponies, Coz and Boz, had taken to the bush and disappeared.
Knowing well the danger of the situation, Roland and Peggy, with Brawn, tried to follow them. But Irish wolf-hounds have but little scent, and so they searched and searched in vain, and returned at last to the sun-kissed glade.