the blue imprint of two fangs in the muscular part of his forearm.




CHAPTER III.

SAVED BY FIRE.


She looks up into his eyes; there is a set expression to be seen there,
but his face is no whiter than before, although it must be a terrible
shock to any man to see the imprint of a mad dog's teeth in the flesh of
his arm.

"Oh, it has happened, the worst that could come about! What will you do,
doctor?"

He is a man of medicine, and he knows full well what such a wound means.

"There is only one thing to be done. Excuse me for a minute or two, Lady
Ruth."

He springs away from her side, and, turning with surprise, she sees him
dart into the smithy of a worker in iron, just down the road a bit.

"Let us follow him!" says Philander.

"Poor, poor boy!" remarks Aunt Gwen.