“Ye ain’t much weight. I kin manage ye all right. Keep still, will ye!”
Betsy kicked and screamed and struggled.
“Now, let up, there. Ye kin kick and screech, but ’twon’t do ye no good; there ain’t no one to hear ye.”
Van, who had been keeping up a low growling, thought this was the cue for him to enter. With a leap he caught the man’s leg in his teeth, and held on with all the strength and tenacity of that bull-dog ancestor of his.
“Leggo,—you!” snarled the man, but Van held on valiantly.
“You call off that dog, Bet, or I’ll kill him, and I’ll lam-bast you!”
Betsy, thoroughly frightened for her pet, made Van let go; but her heart was so full of anger that any thought of fear for herself was banished. She only felt that she must keep still, and not make things worse. She must think, hard.
“Make that dog go home!”
“Home, Van! Go home!”
Van slunk to the rear, but Betsy, looking back, saw him standing, grieved and bewildered. Then, after a minute he disappeared.