"Get through the hedge, Charlie, quick," Frank cried. "Here, I will
help you over, never mind the thorns."

The hedge was low and closely kept, and Frank, bundling his comrade
over it, threw himself across and looked round. The dog was within
ten yards of them, and Frank saw that the alarm was well founded.
The dog was a large crossbred animal, between a mastiff and a
bulldog. Its hair was rough and bristling. It came along with its
head down and foam churning from its mouth. Frank looked the other
way and gave a cry. Yet twenty yards off, in the middle of the road,
stood the child. She, too, had heard the shouts, and had paused
to see what was the matter. She had not taken the alarm, but stood
unsuspicious of danger, watching, not the dog, but the men in the
distance.

Frank placed the blowgun to his mouth, and in a moment his pellet
struck the animal smartly on the side of the head. It gave a short
yelp and paused. Another shot struck it, and then Frank, snatching
the water net from Charlie, threw himself over the hedge, and placed
himself between the child and the dog just as the latter, with a
savage growl, rushed at him.

Frank stood perfectly cool, and as the animal rushed forward,
thrust the net over its head; the ring was but just large enough to
allow its head to enter. Frank at once sprang forward, and placing
himself behind the dog kept a strain upon the stick, so retaining
the mouth of the net tightly on his neck. The animal at first
rushed forward dragging Frank after him. Then he stopped, backed,
and tried to withdraw his head from the encumbrance which blinded
him. Frank, however, had no difficulty in retaining the canvas net