“We seem to be left on all sides, don’t we?”
“Pretty much, and I hope that dog thinks so too.”
Cautiously withdrawing from the kitchen door the boys slowly moved toward the corner of the house. Not far before them was a pile of wood and in case they should be attacked by the growling brute, they were hopeful that there they might find some weapon of defense.
Suddenly both boys found themselves in need. With another growl the dog advanced upon the boys as soon as they had passed the corner.
Leaping to the wood-pile John drew forth a stick three or four feet in length and only about two inches in diameter. Fred was less fortunate and unable to secure a weapon he darted toward the opposite side of the pile.
Meanwhile John was compelled to face the dog. As the savage animal leaped forward John struck at it, but either his blow was too slow, or he did not see plainly in the dim light, for he failed to stop its progress. He had, however, almost succeeded in dodging the brute, which fastened its teeth in his trousers and steadily held John in his grip.
“Hit him! Hit him!” said John excitedly. “He’s got me and I can’t get away!”
In response to the appeal of his comrade Fred hastily took a stick from the wood-pile and advanced upon their common enemy. The dog, however, still clung to John in spite of the boy’s desperate attempts to use his club.
Lifting the stick which he carried Fred brought it down with all his force upon the back of the dog, which still was growling and clinging to its prisoner. There was a loud yelp of pain and relinquishing its hold the dog fled howling back to the house.
Without waiting to discover the reception which awaited the animal, both Fred and John started swiftly across the field toward the shore.