go back."

"No, no," gently, and still advancing. "Poor fellow!--Let me catch his
eye, Miss Swendon."

It was something in the eye, however, which maddened the dog: he shook
in every limb; his lips were drawn back; the sharp teeth glistened.

Jane threw herself on her knees, her arms about his throat: she motioned
Van Ness back with her head, but the enraged animal threw her off as he
would a wisp of straw, and sprang straight at his throat. Van Ness,
though a heavily-built man, staggered back; but he caught the dog about
the throat with both hands, and held him as in a vise. The red eyeballs
and panting tongue were close to his face. Next, Bruno struck with his
paw at one of the white soft hands, and tore a great gash in it, from
which the blood gushed; but the pleasant smile did not leave the lips of
his antagonist.

"Now, Miss Swendon," he said gently, "I think you can soothe him. I will
hold him quiet to listen to reason."

Jane came to him, and in a few moments had the beast subdued and lying
panting at her feet, his bloodshot eye still fixed on Van Ness. She was
pale and trembling, offered her handkerchief to tie up the wounded hand,
and was humble in her apologies; but Van Ness knew all the while that
her sympathies were with the dog. Judge Rhodes had heard the scuffle,
and arrived now, out of breath, and violent in his abuse of poor Bruno.

"Why you keep such an ill-conditioned beast, Jane, I cannot understand,"
he cried as he swabbed and tied the wound.

Mr. Van Ness beamed down unruffled on the stout little man: "You are
always unjust to dogs, Rhodes. Now, I should say that our friend Bruno
was one of the Brahmin caste--fine-natured and well-bred as a rule.
Liable to mistakes, perhaps.--I am right, Miss Swendon?" and he beamed
down in his turn on Jane, who sat on the bank, stroking the dog's muzzle
as it lay on her knee. She forced a smile which proved a failure, said
that he was right, and that she must hurry before them to the house. She
stopped as soon as she was out of sight to hug the dog with a sob: "But
we are not wild beasts, are we, Bruno?"

She felt the dog's insane desire to tear off this amiability, this
cloying gentleness of the newcomer, and find what was beneath. It was
just as it used to be long ago when prim, polite little misses came to
play with her--white, pink-eyed poodles consorting with a big
Newfoundland. She used to feel clumsy and worsted beside them, possessed
by the devil