nt he would have sprung at the wretched man, but Dallas
grasped the position and was too quick for him. In an instant he had
sprung across the dog's back, nipped him between his knees, and buried
his hands in the thick hair of his neck.

"Quick, Bel, or he will tear him to pieces!" cried Dallas. "The door--
the door! Here, Bob, help; I can't hold him. Strong as a horse."

Abel flew to drag open the door, Tregelly seized the dog by his tail;
there was a furious scratching and barking, a rush out, a swing round of
two powerful arms, and the door was banged to again, and fastened; but
only just in time, Scruff's head coming at it with a loud thud, and his
claws rattling and scratching on the wood, as he barked and growled
savagely.

"Lie down, sir!" roared Dallas. "How dare you! Lie down."

There was a loud barking at this, but there were sounds as if of protest
mingled with it, and finally the dog subsided into a howl, and dropped
down by the door to wait, a low, shuffling, panting sound coming through
the crack at the bottom.

"He'd have killed him," said Dallas, panting with the exertion.

"Not a doubt about it, my son," replied Tregelly. "That's the chap,
sure enough--him as half killed you, Mr Abel."

"Yes, I'm sure of it."

"Knew him again directly."

"Think so?" said Dallas.

"Sure of it, my son. Dog wouldn't have gone for a sick man in bed.
Knew him directly, and went for him. Depend upon it, them two had a
desprit fight that night when Scruff laid hold of him and made him drop
the gold-bag."

"That's it, Bel," said Dallas. "No doubt Scruff bit him pretty well,
and he has scared himself into the belief that the dog was mad."

"Yes, that and delirim trimins," said the big Cornishman, looking down
at the horrible wreck before him, the face seeming more ghastly and
grotesque from the dancing shadows. "The brute has drunk himself mad.
He's a thief, and a murderer, or meant to be; and him and his gang have
broke into my house. If the judge and his lot yonder could get at him
they'd hang him to the first tree; he told us if we saw him and his lot
we were to shoot at sight; and he's no good to himself or anybody else,
and the world would be all the better without him; and--I say, don't you
think we'd better let the dog come in and put him out of his misery?"

"No," said Dallas angrily; "neither do you."

"Well, put him outside in the snow. It's a merciful sort of death, and
very purifying to