Signor approached, but the kick that was meant
for him spent itself in the air. Again he snapped, with that sideways
striking action of the big bony head, and the Signor shrieked like a
woman and sprang away.

Bill watched the pair of them for half a minute, as they took refuge
among the trees, and both saw the glint of his strong teeth as he
stared after them. Then he finished the food at his ease, while they
cursed and whimpered from a distance.

"'E's mad," moaned Trotter. "'Es 'ad a stroke. An' we'll get
hydrophobia from 'im as like as not."

He nursed his bitten wrist tenderly.

"Look at my laig!" babbled the Signor. "It is a sacred bite, an'
all-a da trouser tore. What da hell you fool wid da dog for, you big
fool?"

"'E was pinchin' the grub," growled Trotter. "E's mad. Look at 'im,
lyin' down on my coat. 'Ere, Bill! Goo' dog, then. Good ole feller!"

Bill took no notice of the blandishments of Trotter, but presently he
rose and strolled off to where a little pond stood in the corner of a
field.

"'E's drinkin'," reported Trotter, who had stolen from cover to make
observations. "So 'e can't be mad. Mad dogs won't look at water. Go
into fits if they sees it. 'Ere, Signor, let's make a grab for those
bundles before 'e gets back."

Bill rejoined them while they were yet stuffing their shabby
possessions together.

The Signor moved behind Trotter and Trotter picked up a boot. But
Bill was calm and peaceful again. He lay down in the grass and wagged
his tail cheerfully.

"Bill, ole feller," said Trotter, in tones of conciliation, and Bill
wagged again.

"'Ell, I can't make nothing of it," confessed Trotter blankly. "Must
have gone sort o' temp'ry insane, like the sooicides. But well, we'll
be even with 'im before all's over."

And the lean Signor's sidelong look at the dog was full of menace.

They reached another village before dark, a village with a good
prosperous alehouse, and here Bill showed quite his old form. He
waltzed, he threw somersaults, he found handkerchiefs, he carried the
hat; his docility was all that Trotter and the Signor could have
asked. They cleared one and sevenpence out of his tricks, and would
have stayed to drink it; but Bill walked calmly on up the road and
barely gave them time enough to buy food.

They cursed him lavishly; the Signor raved in a hot frenzy; but they
dared not lose him. The dog led them at an easy pace and they labored
after him furiously, while a great