“Go away, you brute!” said Abner, wrathfully.
The dog, however, appeared instinctively to understand that Abner Holden was able only to threaten him, and barked more furiously than before; sometimes approaching within a foot of the helpless prisoner, and showing a formidable row of teeth, which Abner feared every moment might fasten upon his arm or leg.
Abner Holden was not a man of courage. Though his disposition was that of a bully, he was easily frightened, and the fierce look of the dog alarmed him not a little. In fact, it might have tested the courage of a much braver man than Mr. Holden.
“Go away!” he shrieked, shrinking back as far as he could from the open mouth of his persecutor.
A hoarse bark was the only reply, and the dog made an artful spring, which was only a feint, but had too much the appearance of earnest to suit his enemy.
“Oh, will nobody save me from the brute?” groaned Abner, in an ecstasy of terror. “If I could only get my hands loose!” and he tugged frantically at the cord.
Feeling how utterly he was at a disadvantage, he condescended to coax his fierce antagonist.
“Be quiet, that's a good dog,” he said, with hypocritical softness.
The dog noticed a change in his tone, and evidently viewed it with some suspicion. Still his bark became less fierce and his looks less threatening.
“Good dog!” repeated Abner, in wheedling tones. “There's some dinner.”