They passed on, and Star thought it would be best for her to go back to her friends, and therefore turned to retrace her steps.
She had only accomplished about half of the distance, when she heard a clear, musical laugh ring out from among the shrubbery on the right of the path.
Thinking it must be some of her party, she stepped forward to warn them of their danger. She parted the branches with her hands and looked through.
What was her horror to see Josephine Richards sitting at the foot of a tree, her hat tossed upon the ground beside her, and holding in her lap the little mad dog against which she had just been warned.
It was a beautiful little creature, and had evidently been made a pet and plaything. It had lovely brown eyes, looking out from beneath its shaggy brows; its coat was as white as snow, while around its neck there glistened the silver collar, and in its pretty ears were the tiny blue bows of which she had been told.
Miss Richards evidently had just coaxed the little pet into her lap, and was playing with it without a suspicion of the terrible danger that she was in, while just for that moment it showed no signs of the madness which possessed it.
Star’s face was as white as her spotless dress as she took in the dreadful situation; then she stepped quickly forward and said, in clear but authoritative tones:
“Miss Richards, put that dog down as quietly as you can, and come away with me instantly, for I have just been told that it is mad.”
Scarcely were the words uttered, when the little creature snapped at the hand raised to caress it, and, with a scream of fright, Josephine sprang to her feet and turned to fly.
But the act aroused all the fury of the maddened animal, and he seized hold of her skirts, biting and tearing them in the most furious manner, foaming at the mouth, and howling frightfully in its sudden paroxysm of frenzy.