ury of the slavering fangs shook her
loose droop of gown; and a dull, prolonged growl, like the clamour of a
far body of insurrectionary marching men, told of the rage.

Fleetwood hovered helpless as a leaf on a bough.

'Back--', I pray,' she said to him, and motioned it, her arms at high
stretch.

He held no weapon. The sweat of his forehead half blinded him. And she
waved him behind her, beckoned to the crowd to keep wide way, used her
lifted hands as flappers; she had all her wits. There was not a wrinkle
of a grimace. Nothing but her locked lips betrayed her vision of
imminent doom. The shaking of her gown and the snarl in the undergrowl
sounded insatiate.

The brute dropped hold. With a weariful jog of the head, it pursued its
course at an awful even swinging pace: Death's own, Death's doer, his
reaper,--he, the very Death of the Terrors.

Carinthia's cry rang for clear way to be kept on either side, and that
accursed went the path through a sharp-edged mob, as it poured pell-mell
and shrank back, closing for the chase to rear of it.

'Father taught me,' she said to the earl, not more discomposed than if
she had taken a jump.

'It's over!' he groaned, savagely white, and bellowed for guns, any
weapons. 'Your father? pray?' She was entreated to speak.

'Yes, it must be shot; it will be merciful to kill it,' she said. 'They
have carried the child indoors. The others are safe. Mr. Woodseer, run
to my nurse-girl, Martha. He goes,' she murmured, and resumed to the
earl: 'Father told me women have a better chance than men with a biting
dog. He put me before him and drilled me. He thought of everything.
Usually the poor beast snaps--one angry bite, not more. My dress teased
it.'

Fleetwood grinned civilly in his excitement; intending to yield patient
hearing, to be interested by any mortal thing she might choose to say.

She was advised by recollection to let her father rest.

'No, dear girl, not hurt, no scratch,--only my gown torn,' she said to
Madge; and Madge heaved and whimpered, and stooped to pin the frayed
strips. 'Quite safe; you see it is easy for women to escape, Mr.
Edwards.'

Carinthia's voice hummed over the girl's head

'Father made me practise it, in case. He forethought. Madge, you heard
of this dog. I told you how to act. I was not feverish. Our babe will
not feel it.'

She bade Madge open her hands. 'A scratch would kill. Never mind the
tearings; I will hold my dress. Oh! there is that