happening. He had another encounter with the wild-dog, who treacherously
attacked him in flank from ambuscade. Trade boxes belonging to the
blacks had been irregularly piled so that a small space was left between
two boxes in the lower tier. From this hole, as Jerry trotted past in
response to a call from the skipper, the wild-dog sprang, scratched his
sharp puppy-teeth into Jerry's yellow-velvet hide, and scuttled back into
his lair.

Again Jerry's feelings were outraged. He could understand flank attack.
Often he and Michael had played at that, although it had only been
playing. But to retreat without fighting from a fight once started was
alien to Jerry's ways and nature. With righteous wrath he charged into
the hole after his enemy. But this was where the wild-dog fought to best
advantage--in a corner. When Jerry sprang up in the confined space he
bumped his head on the box above, and the next moment felt the snarling
impact of the other's teeth against his own teeth and jaw.

There was no getting at the wild-dog, no chance to rush against him whole
heartedly, with generous full weight in the attack. All Jerry could do
was to crawl and squirm and belly forward, and always he was met by a
snarling mouthful of teeth. Even so, he would have got the wild-dog in
the end, had not Borckman, in passing, reached in and dragged Jerry out
by a hind-leg. Again came Captain Van Horn's call, and Jerry, obedient,
trotted on aft.

A meal was being served on deck in the shade of the spanker, and Jerry,
sitting between the two men received his share. Already he had made the
generalization that of the two, the captain was the superior god, giving
many orders that the mate obeyed. The mate, on the other hand, gave
orders to the blacks, but never did he give orders to the captain.