fist.

"I'll larn'ee to answer me--by cripes, I will!" quoth David.

By this time the sorely trounced Jan was on his feet and Finn had begun
to lick his son's streaming ears. From the inside of the high hedge came
hurrying footsteps; and in another moment the Master appeared at the
white gate, twenty paces lower down the lane. David Crumplin was offered
the hospitality of the scullery for the examination of his dog, but
preferred to get Grip away with him after an admission that--

"Your puppy there will do some killin' in his day, sir, if he lives to
see it. But as for this other fellow"--pointing to Finn--"he could down
any dog this side o' Gretna Green, an' you can say as I said so. I know
most of 'em."

That was how Jan learned his first big lesson, and the good of it never
left him, and often saved his life; just as surely as his father's great
speed and strength saved it on this morning, in the very breathless nick
of time when his throat had been bared to the knife that was between
Grip's killing jaws.

In the beginning of Jan's first fight Finn had been dreaming of a hunt
in the Australian bush. Once or twice, as David Crumplin cursed and
ranted in the lane, Finn's dark ears had twitched as though in
semi-consciousness of the trouble. Later, as Jan had snarlingly roared
in his fourth or fifth attack, his sire's brown eyes had opened wide and
he had lain a moment with ears pricked and head well up, at Betty's
feet. And then with a long, formidable growl he had leaped for the
porch. Half a dozen great bounds took him through the garden. A leap