gray dog had picked up the puppy, like a lancer a tent-peg, and was
sweeping on, his captive in his mouth, toward the stream.

Behind, hurried James Moore and Sam'l, wondering what the issue
of the comedy would be. After them toddled old Tammas,
chuckling. While over the yard-wall was now a little cluster of
heads: 'Enry, oor Job, Maggie and David, and Vi'let Thornton, the
dairy-maid.

Straight on to the plank-bridge galloped Owd Bob. In the middle
he halted, leant over, and dropped his prisoner; who fell with a
cool plop into the running water beneath.

Another moment and M'Adam had reached the bank of the stream.
In he plunged, splashing and cursing, and seized the struggling
puppy; then waded back, the waters surging about his waist, and
Red Wull, limp as a wet rag, in his hand. The little man's hair was
dripping, for his cap was gone; his clothes clung to him, exposing
the miserableness of his figure; and his eyes blazed like hot ashes
in his wet face.

He sprang on to the bank, and, beside himself with passion, rushed
at Owd Bob.

"Curse ye for a--"

"Stan' back, or yo'll have him at your throat!" shouted the Master,
thundering up. "Stan' back, I say, yo' fule!" And, as the little man
still came madly on, he reached forth his hand and hurled him
back; at the same moment, bending, he buried the other hand deep