w.
His mouth was wide open, his tongue was hanging out, and foam was
dripping from his jaws. He looked very terrible, not in the least like
the good-natured dog with whom Gerry had made friends on her first day
at school.

For a moment, Gerry turned away, with a sick shiver of fear and
repulsion. Then all at once something came into her heart, making her
braver and stronger than she had ever been in her life before. Muriel
was being brave. Muriel had not run like a coward towards the fence.
Why, couldn't she be brave like Muriel, too? With a sudden desperate
resolve, Gerry swung round and flew straight towards the oncoming dog.

Nearly every girl and mistress in the school saw the deed by which
Gerry Wilmott established herself for ever in the annals of Wakehurst
Priory. The few who were absent could find plenty of eager
eye-witnesses to describe it to them. It was a picture which stamped
itself indelibly upon the minds of a good many of the people
present--the old grey school buildings in the background, framed by the
black boughs of the November trees, the wide stretch of meadowland, and
in the forefront the big black dog, pursued by the shouting men, making
straight for the crowd of terrified children.

Then into the very centre of the picture dashed the blue-tunicked
figure of Gerry Wilmott! German Gerry! The girl who was afraid of
dogs and mice and hockey balls, and everything and everyone under the
sun, apparently--dashing right in the pathway of the mad dog!

Exactly how she did it, Gerry never afterwards quite knew. In some way
she managed to get behind the dog and fling herself upon him as he
rushed past. She seized him by his collar and the long curly hair
about his throat, throwing herself upon her knees on the ground as she
did so. So powerful was he in his mad frenzy, that she was dragged
along the grass for a considerable distance before she could bring him
to a standstill. Then came a few moments that seemed like a lifetime
of desperate struggling, while she gripped the snapping, growling dog
round his throat with fingers that grew numb beneath the strain, and
with stiff, taut arms held him away so that he could not spring upon
her.

The struggle only lasted a few moments in reality, but to Gerry it
seemed an eternity before she heard Bennett's breathless cry of "Hold
on, missie I keep him still an instant longer," and knew that if it was
more than an instant, she would have to let the