pulling the dog along and walking as fast as he could, while Trusty
struggled and cried and did all he could to get rid of the rope. "Where
is thy justice or thy mercy? Oh, sir; oh, sir;" he shouted, running
after the man, "give me back my dog; oh, give him back to me, good
people;" he cried, for his own cries and those of the dog, too, had
already drawn a crowd to the scene, "good people, tell him not to kill
my dog."

[Illustration: "_It was to the honor of the crowd that they hooted the
officer roundly._"]

It was to the honor of the crowd that they hooted the officer roundly,
and called on him and shouted, "Give the old man back his dog," and
greater honor yet to them that some of the boys pelted him with
snowballs and junks of ice as he hurried on, and one brawny chap,
sitting on the seat of his cart, struck him a stinging blow with his
black whip as he scuttled past, with, "Damn you, take that, for killing
_my_ dog." The officer shook his club at the honest fellow and said,
"I'll pay you for that, see if I don't," but he dared not stop to make
the arrest, for the crowd was thickening and the air getting fuller of
missiles, and every door and window was hooting him as he passed them,
with the poor dog crying and moaning pitifully at his heels. Even the
women, God bless them (for the feeling against the law ran high in the
city), opened the doors and lifted the windows of their houses, the
ladies crying, "Shame on you, shame on you!" and the cooks and chamber
maids from the nadir and zenith of their household worlds, with homelier
and more piquant phrase and saucier tongues, scoffed him for the
miserable work he was doing; but in spite of the popular uprising, now
almost swelled to the dimensions of a mob, and the verbal uproar,
through the hoarse murmur of which the boy's gibe, the woman's taunt and