There was a young man going by on a bicycle. He heard my screams and
springing off his bicycle, came hurrying up the path, and stood among us
before Jenkins caught sight of him.

In the midst of my pain, I heard him in say fiercely "What have you been
doing to that dog?"

"I've been cuttin' his ears for fightin', my young gentleman," said
Jenkins. "There is no law to prevent that, is there?"

"And there is no law to prevent my giving you a beating," said the young
man, angrily. In a trice he had seized Jenkins by the throat, and was
pounding him with all his might. Mrs. Jenkins came and stood at the
house door, crying, but making no effort to help her husband.

"Bring me a towel," the young man cried to her, after he had stretched
Jenkins, bruised and frightened, on the ground. She snatched off her
apron, and ran down with it, and the young man wrapped me in it, and
taking me carefully in his arms, walked down the path to the gate. There
were some little boys standing there, watching him, their mouths wide
open with astonishment. "Sonny," he said to the largest of them, "if you
will come behind and carry this dog, I will give you a quarter."

The boy took me, and we set out. I was all smothered up in a cloth, and
moaning with pain, but still I looked out occasionally to see which way
we were going. We took the road to the town and stopped in front of a
house on Washington Street. The young man leaned his bicycle up against
the house, took a quarter from his pocket and put it in the boy's hand,
and lifting me gently in his arms, went up a lane leading to the back of