CHAPTER XXVIII
Osborne's Reward
The three officers stood aghast. They could do little or nothing to separate the struggling, heaving forms of the canine combatants. In ordinary circumstances Laddie would have been more than a match for the mongrel, but with a recently healed injury the sheep-dog was considerably handicapped.
"He'll break that jaw again!" exclaimed Dixon, alarmed at the prospect of three weeks' work being thrown away.
Webb said not a word. Anxiously he watched the struggle, his thoughts dwelling upon the effect the impending calamity would have on his wounded chum. Captain M'Bride at length made an effort to separate the antagonists, but wisely desisted.
In less than a minute the fight was over and Laddie was the victor. The mongrel, making for the most vulnerable part of his opponent—for the thick under-coat of the sheep-dog forms an almost complete protection—had seized him by the ear. With a quick wrench Laddie shook himself clear, and gripped the cur by the neck. Then, like a terrier shaking a rat, the sheep-dog banged his foe's head thrice upon the hard ground. The aggressor had had more than enough.
Anxiously Dixon knelt down, and examined the jaw of the dust-smothered and foam-flecked Laddie. Then he gave a whoop of satisfaction.
"Sound as a bell!" he exclaimed. "My word! Some successful operation that—eh, what?"
"We must give the brute a drink of water and a good brush down," said Captain M'Bride. "By Jove! he's a tough customer. We can't take him in that horrible state to see his master."
Adjournment for Laddie's refreshment and toilet followed. This done, the "deputation", as Captain M'Bride insisted upon calling it, proceeded on its delayed visit.