With a dog’s instinct he fastened his teeth in the unprotected calf of the intruder, and inflicted a wound decidedly painful.
When Professor Puffer, lowering the candle, saw his foe, he was frightened more, than ever.
“This is a trick of that rascally boy!” he concluded. “Get out, you brute!”
With this exclamation he drew his leg away from the dog’s grip, and gave him a vicious kick.
But the dog’s fighting spirit was aroused. He took a new hold, and growled in a manner that sent terror to the heart of the unhappy professor. Drops of perspiration came out upon his forehead, and his heart was sick with fear. He felt helpless in the powerful jaws of the dog.
“What shall I do? What can I do?” he moaned. “If I only had a revolver.”
The more he struggled, the more the dog felt that he had done right in attacking him.
The professor could stand it no longer. He gave utterance to a succession of piercing shrieks, which aroused the house. He did not succeed in terrifying the dog, however, who hung on with remorseless tenacity.
The cries of the professor roused the house. The guests poured out of their rooms, among them Nelson Sturgis and Bernard. Last, but not least, the stout, rubicund landlord, a typical Englishman, made his appearance.
As all were attired in their night clothes, the effect was picturesque, to say the least, “What is the matter?” asked the landlord.