mpanions: "The girls! the girls!" he turned and ran toward the hill at
his utmost speed, the dog following, and the boys in the trees gazing
upon the terrible race, speechless with dread.

Donald felt that he had a good start of his pursuer, however, and he had
his gun in his hand; but it was empty. Luckily, it was a
repeating-rifle; and so, without abating his speed, he hastily took two
cartridges from his jacket and slipped them into the chamber of the gun.

"I'll climb a tree and shoot him!" he said to himself, "if only I can
warn the girls out of the way."

"Girls! Girls!" he screamed. But as he looked up, he saw, descending the
hill and sauntering toward him, his sister and Josie Manning, absorbed
in earnest conversation.

At first he could not utter another sound, and he feared that his knees
would sink under him. But the next instant he cried out with all his
might:

"Back! Back! Climb the tree, for your lives! Mad dog! Mad dog!"

The two girls needed no second warning. The sight of the dreadful object
speeding up the slope in Donald's tracks was enough. They ran as they
never had run before, reached the tree in time, and, with another girl
whom they met and warned, clambered, breathless, up the ladder to the
sheltering branches.

Then all their fears centred upon Donald, who by this time had reached
the plateau just below them, where the shooting-match had been held. He
turned to run toward the apple-tree, when, to the horror of all, his
foot slipped, and he fell prostrate. Instantly he was up again, but he
had not time to reach the tree. The dog already was over the slope, and
was making toward him at a rapid, swinging gait, its tongue out, its
bloodshot eyes plainly to be seen, froth about the mouth, and the jaws
opening and shutting in vicious snaps.

Dorry could not stand it; she started to leave the tree, but fell back
with closed eyes, while the other girls clung, trembling, to the
branches, pale and horrified.

To the credit of Donald be it said, he faced the danger like a man. He
felt that the slightest touch of those dripping jaws would bring death,
but this was the time for action.

Hastily kneeling behind a stump, he said to himself: "Now, Donald Reed,
they say you're a good shot. Prove it!" And steadying his nerves with
all the resolution that was in him, he levelled his rifle at the
advancing dog and fired.

To his relief, the poor brute faltered and dropped--dead, as Don
thought. But