needlessly and foolishly cruel as the average mad-dog chase.

Which is a digression; but which may or may not enable you to
keep your head, next time a mad-dog scare sweeps your own
neighborhood.

Down the middle of the dusty street trotted the sick mongrel.
Five minutes earlier, he had escaped from the damp cellar in
which his owner had imprisoned him when first he fell ill. And
now, his one purpose was to leave the village behind him and to
gain the leafy refuge of the foothills beyond.

Out from a door-yard, flashed a bumptious little fox terrier.
Into the roadway he bounded; intent on challenging the bigger
animal.

He barked ferociously; then danced in front of the invalid;
yapping and snapping up at the hanging head. The big mongrel, in
agony, snarled and made a lunge at his irritatingly dancing
tormentor. His teeth dug grazingly into the terrier's withers;
and, with an impatient toss, he flung the little beast to one
side. Then he continued his interrupted flight; sick wrath
beginning to encompass his reeling brain, at the annoyance he had
encountered.

The yell of the slightly hurt terrier brought people to their
doors. The sound disturbed a half-breed spaniel from his doze in
the dust, and sent him out to continue the harrying his injured
terrier chum had begun.