With that he sprang at the dog and caught him by the ears.
Towse was evidently amazed, but he proved equal to the occasion. Fastening his teeth in the boy’s trousers, in startling nearness to an expanse of bare knee, he held on like a vise.
Just at that moment the boy caught sight of an unfamiliar spot of white on the animal’s head, and dropped his hold to take at once to his heels, leaving a goodly portion of woolen cloth in the creature’s mouth.
“Run, Patsy, run!” he shouted to his chum. “He’s gone and turned hisself into another dog!”
HOW LONG IS FIVE MINUTES?
In a murder trial before a court in the West, the prisoner was able to account for the whole of his time, except five minutes, on the evening when the crime was committed. His counsel argued that it was impossible for him to have killed the man, under the circumstances, in so brief a period, and on that plea largely based his defense, the other testimony being strongly against his client. When the prosecuting attorney replied, he said:
“How long a time really is five minutes? Let us see. Will his honor command absolute silence in the courtroom for that space?”
The judge graciously complied. There was a clock on the wall. Every eye in the courtroom was fixed upon it, as the pendulum ticked off the seconds. There was breathless silence. The keen-witted counsel waited until the tired audience gave a sigh of relief at the close of the period, and then asked quietly:
“Could he not have struck one fatal blow in all that time?”
The prisoner was found guilty, and, as it was proved afterward, justly.