Jack heard every word, and comprehended the situation as well as if there had been light enough for him to see everything that was going on. It was wonderful how quickly his tone changed.
“Hi! hi!” he yelled, forcing his burly form through the bushes with all the speed of which he was capable, “pull him down, Nero! Shake him to death, ye rascal! Drop that ar we’pon, Julian, or I’ll larrup ye within an inch of yer life. I wouldn’t have that dog hurt for $100.”
“You ought to have thought of that before you put him on my trail,” replied Julian. “There! Thank goodness that ends it.”
The hound ceased the battle as suddenly as he begun it. He became limp and lifeless all at once, and sank to the ground in a heap, dragging Julian with him. But even in death his jaws would not relax their hold. His long teeth had caught in the coat, and Julian could not release his arm.
Just then, Jack Bowles burst from the bushes, and came lumbering across the glade. He saw Julian kneeling beside the hound and knew instinctively what had happened. His astonishment and rage knew no bounds.
“Dog-gone!” he roared; “ye’ve done it now, boy. I wouldn’t be in yer cowhide shoes fur no money. Hold on, thar! Come back here, or——”
The oaths and threats with which Jack awoke the echoes of the forest made Julian’s blood run cold, but they did not check his flight.
Finding himself unable to obtain possession of his coat, he slipped his arm out of it and fled, leaving the garment in the hound’s mouth.
He was out of sight in a moment.