ged each bitter enemy around the neck,
slowly digging into their straining bodies till the blood spurted out in
streams. But he, too, was bleeding, for his ears were suffering cruel
lacerations; the dogs held on, and his tawny eyes were raised to the sky
with a pitiable look of appeal. Not a cry, not a sigh or a groan escaped
from a single combatant; the three animals formed a group as motionless
as if they had been carved in wood.

I could feel the perspiration running down my face.

This went on for five minutes.

At length the Tannenthaler seemed to be relaxing slightly; the bear
weighed more heavily on him with his heavy paw, his eye kindling with a
gleam of hope; then there was another brief pause. There was a horrid
groan, a cracking; the hound's backbone was broken, and he fell back upon
the stones, his jaws reeking with blood.

Then Baptiste, with a tremor of delight, threw both paws round the Dane,
who had not yet let go his hold, but his teeth were slipping from the
torn and bloody ear. Suddenly he shook himself and sprang backward; the
bear made a rush at his flying foe, but the chain held him back. The dog
fled, red with blood, and only stopped when he had got safe behind his
master, who gave him a favourable reception, while casting a glance at
his other dog, which lay motionless.

And here Baptiste placed his mighty paw upon the victim of his fury and
his valour; carrying his head high, he snuffed the carnage with distended
nostrils and panting sides; the veteran warrior was himself again.
Frantic applause rose from the galleries to the church spire. The bear
seemed to understand. I have never seen a more proud and resolute
bearing.

After this fight all the spectators were taking breath; the capuchin
friar Johannes, seated upon the banister facing the field of battle,
shook his stick, smiling with satisfaction in his long brown beard.
People wanted a little relief; pinches of snuff were offered and
accepted, and the voice of Doctor Melchior, discussing and explaining the
different phases of the conflict, was heard over the noise of many
talkers. But he had no time to finish his speech, for in a moment the
barn-door flew open, and more than five-and-twenty dogs, great and small,
the very vagrants and scum of the town, offered up as a sacrifice to do
honour to the occasion, wallowed in a heap into the yard, howling and
yelling, barking, snapping, and snarling; then, as if second thoughts had
rather m