“I do pity you, Reddy,” I said. “I think it is very hard for your master to go to the city, and leave you all alone with the servants who don’t pet you. You know you are always welcome in our home.”
“But it’s the forbidden game I always want to play,” he said, with a spring in the air at a passing fly.
“Here comes Gringo,” I said, looking toward the house.
“Let him come,” said Reddy, who was no coward, and he flopped down on the grass.
The old dog came sagging along. Weary Winnie was some paces behind him, and when she saw Reddy she dashed ahead, crouched to the ground, and got all ready for a frolic with him.
Gringo went right up to Reddy. “Stand up,” he said.
Reddy stood up, and Gringo took him by the throat.
I thought he would kill him. I was first in terror, then in agony. Reddy was very valuable, and if he were killed by one of the Bonstone dogs, it would make bad blood between Greenlands and Green Hill. I was also irritated with Gringo. He was too severe with the young dogs.
I ran up and down. Would no one come? Not a soul was in sight. I galloped toward the house, then I had a sudden thought, and ran back.
Gringo still had Reddy pinned to the earth in that awful silence. “Gringo,” I whispered, after I had leaped close to his ear, “your boss is having a fit in the dining-room.”