Gripping the nozzle-end of the hose firmly in both hands, Dr. Peters aimed it at a rat-hole under the steps.
“Now, Van, stand ready. Easy now! Let her go at the hydrant,—not too fast on the start.”
The fire-hose came alive again. Dr. Peters kept the nozzle turned off until things were quite ready; Van stood by, all a-tremble with eagerness,—and then——
Sh-sh-h-h-h-h! Squirt went a stream of water strong enough to knock terror into the heart of the stoutest rat on earth. Straight into the hole this time, and no bungling.
A squealing sound, and out came flying a drenched and much-befuddled rat.
No chance for him to make an exit. Snap! The star performer had him by the back of the neck. One little shake, a crunch, and all was over. Another followed out of the same hole,—reluctantly. It was only a question of choice for him,—death by drowning, or raticide. The hose was too much for him; he chose the latter, and went the way of his brother.
Nothing more out of that hole. Dr. Peters tried another. Squirt went the icy stream, and out trailed a mother-rat and her nine half-grown children.
Lively work for Van now. They scuttled in every direction, all over the yard. Like a true sportsman, Van tackled the mother first, with a good back-neck clutch, and she was done for. Now for the rest!
Hither, thither, from Dan to Beersheba he darted. No time now to make a clean finish; every rat must be disabled before it could get away to cover. And not one escaped. No historical Herod was ever in the running with Van. His agility was marvelous. It was dart, shake, drop; dart, shake, drop;—nine times, and all over the place.
Then he went the rounds again, and in a trice the whole ten were ready to add to the heap of slain.