“Here!” cried John, in the tone with which he would have addressed his dog.
Vijal stopped carelessly.
“Pick up my hat, and hand it to me.”
His hat had fallen down behind him. Vijal stood without moving, and regarded him with an evil smile.
“D—n you, do you hear?” cried John. “Pick up my hat.”
But Vijal did not move.
“If you don’t, I’ll set the dog on you,” cried John, starting to his feet in a rage.
Still Vijal remained motionless.
“Nero!” cried John, furiously, pointing to Vijal, “seize him, Sir.”
The dog sprang up and at once leaped upon Vijal. Vijal warded off the assault with his arm. The dog seized it, and held on, as was his nature. Vijal did not utter a cry, but seizing the dog, he threw him on his back, and flinging himself upon him, fixed his own teeth in the dog’s throat.