Paul loved hunting and fishing; on Saturday afternoons he made the woods
ring with the crack of his grandfather's gun, bringing squirrels from
the tallest trees, and taking quails upon the wing. He was quick to see,
and swift to take aim. He was cool of nerve, and so steady of aim that
he rarely missed. It was summer, and he wore no shoes. He walked so
lightly that he scarcely rustled a leaf. The partridges did not see him
till he was close upon them, and then, before they could rise from their
cover, flash!--bang!--and they went into his bag.

One day as he was on his return from the woods, with the gun upon his
shoulder, and the powder-horn at his side, he saw a gathering of people
in the street. Men, women, and children were out,--the women without
bonnets. He wondered what was going on. Some women were wringing their
hands; and all were greatly excited.

"O dear, isn't it dreadful!" "What will become of us?" "The Lord have
mercy upon us!"--were the expressions which he heard. Then they wrung
their hands again, and moaned.

"What is up?" he asked of Hans Middlekauf.

"Haven't you heard?"

"No, what is it?"

"Why, there is a big black bull-dog, the biggest that ever was, that has
run mad. He has bitten ever so many other dogs, and horses, sheep, and
cattle. He is as big as a bear and froths at the mouth. He is the
savagest critter that ever was," said Hans in a breath.

"Why don't somebody kill him?"

"They are afeared of him," said Hans.

"I should think they might kill him," Paul replied.

"I reckon you would run as fast as anybody else, if he should show
himself round here," said Hans.

"There he is! Run! run! run for your lives!" was the sudden cry.

Paul looked up the street, and saw a very large bull-dog coming upon the
trot. Never was there such a scampering. People ran into the nearest
houses, pell-mell. One man jumped into his wagon, lashed his horse into
a run, and went down the street, losing his hat in his flight, while
Hans Middlekauf went up a tree.

"Run, Paul! Run! he'll bite you," cried Mr. Leatherby from the window of
his shoe shop. People looked out from the windows and repeated the cry,
a half-dozen at once; but Paul took no notice of them. Those who were
nearest him heard the click of his gun-lock. The dog came nearer,
growling, and snarling, his mouth wide open, showing his teeth, his eyes
glaring, and white froth dripping from his lips. Paul stood alone in
the street. There was