He has continued to advance in the interim, and is now quite close, though not moving out of the straight line in the center of the street—a repulsive looking object truly, and enough to horrify the bravest.
Colonel Lionel gives a gasp. He is trembling all over, for it chances that this brave soldier, who has led forlorn hopes in the Zulu war, and performed prodigies of valor on Egyptian battle-fields, has a peculiar dread of dogs, inherited from one of his parents.
It is not the animal that has fixed Lady Ruth's attention. Just in front and directly in the line of the dog's advance is a small native child that has been playing in the street.
He cannot be over three years of age, and with his curly black head and half-naked body presents a picture of robust health.
Apparently engrossed in his play, he sees and hears nothing of the clamor around until, chancing to look up, he sees the dog, and fearlessly extends his chubby arms toward it.
The picture is one never to be forgotten.
It thrills every one who looks on.
No one seems to have a gun or weapon of any kind. A peculiar paralysis affects them, a feeling of dumb horror.
A shriek sounds; from a window is seen the form of a native woman, who wrings her hands in terrible anguish.
The child's mother! God pity her! to be an eye-witness of her darling's fate!