THE WILD DOG PACK
"How's that, Bristles, a pack of wild dogs running around, and killing
sheep?" Fred demanded, appearing to take uncommon interest in what his
companion had just said.
"Yes, and Fred, I honestly believe that farmer lives somewhere up in this
region, because I heard him tell about having a runaway near the
Belleville tollgate, and you know that's where we expect to fetch out on
the road ahead."
"Then that settle it, Bristles. And there's no doubt we're hearing the
yelping of that same pack right now. I reckon they're on some track or
other."
"Whew! I hope it isn't _our_ track then!" exclaimed the other lad, as he
began hurriedly to look about him for a stout club, and eye the
neighboring trees, as if an unpleasant alternative had forced itself upon
his notice.
"The sounds seem to come from back yonder, where we passed along,"
remarked Fred; and as though in his mind an ounce of prevention might be
better than a pound of cure, he too hastened to pick tip a heavy billet
of wood, that was as large as an ordinary baseball club.
"But what makes dogs act that way, and go wild?" asked Bristles. "I
never knew of any doing such a queer stunt."
"It's this way," explained the other, quickly, as though he had recently
been reading the matter up, and was full of information. "Dogs are kin
to wolves and foxes, you know. Fact is, many a wolf I've seen looked
just like a dog."
"Yes, that's a fact, Fred!" admitted Bristles, nodding his head, and
still noting the fact that the chorus of barks, yelps and snarls seemed
to be gradually approaching all the time.
"Well, every once in a while some dog seems to hear the call of the wild.
He takes a dislike to confinement, hates human beings, and the first
chance he gets puts out for the woods, where he lives just as a wolf
would do, by the chase. Sometimes farmers' watchdogs that are thought to
be honest get this sheep-killing habit, and play tricks, covering their
tracks so they go a long time without being found out, and then only by
accident."
"Yes, I've heard all about that, too, Fred, but because one dog goes
wild, why should a whole lot of others follow after him, I want to know?"
"Well," continued the other, "as far as I understand it, here's the
reason. Every dog has that same nature about him. I've seen it proven
many times. We had an old dog named Mose, who was never known to chase
anybody. He used to lie there asleep on our front porch by the hour.
Then next door there was a little cur that somehow took to chasing after
wheels and wagons. You've heard how dogs yap-yap whenever they do that,
haven't you, Bristles?"
"Lots of times," assented the other, nodding, and still earnestly
listening.
"It's about like some of that racket we hear now," Fred went on to
explain. "They say it excites a dog like everything. When that little
cur next door would start down the street with a yap-yap-yap, I've seen
our poor old Mose jump up, as if he'd had a signal no living dog could
resist, and go rushing out of the yard, to join in with the cur and some
others that gathered like a flash. That's what it means."
"And these other dogs have got the fever in their veins by this time too,
eh, Fred?"
"Yes, and they are satisfied to chase around after the leader, perhaps
taking an humble part in his kills. But Bristles, I'm afraid we're going
to see for ourselves what the pack looks like."
"You mean they're coming this way fast now?" observed Bristles,
tightening his grip on the club he had selected from many that lay under
a tree shattered by a bolt of lightning the previous Summer.
"There's no doubt about it!" declared Fred, steadily.
"Course we could shin up a tree if we wanted to, Fred, but that'd go
against my grain. I feel like standing my ground, and trying to get a
whack at that sheep-killing leader of the pack. Gee! wouldn't the
farmers give us a vote of thanks if we did manage to put him out of the
running?"
"We may have the chance sooner than we expected," Fred went on to say,
grimly, for the tempest of sounds seemed to be very close now, and they
could actually hear the rush of the advancing pack.
"How many are there, do you think?" asked Bristles, and if his voice
trembled a little, Fred believed it was from excitement rather than fear,
because he had seen this local comrade tested many times, and knew that
he never flinched.
"At least four," Fred replied, "because I can make out that many
different yelpings, and there may be six, with some small runts coming
along in the rear."
"I only wish I had more duds on, and a pair of leather leggings in the
bargain," muttered Bristles, glancing rather ruefully down at his bare
shins, which of course were wholly unprotected.
"Here they come!" announced Fred, suddenly.
There was a rush of pattering feet, together with a fierce series of
yelps, and then through the thicket came pouring a string of hustling
animals, heading directly toward the two boys.
"Whew! he _is_ a dandy, sure enough!" exclaimed Bristles, referring of
course to the large animal in the lead.
This was a dun-colored beast about the size of a wolf and not unlike one
in many of his attributes. He presented a really terrifying front now,
with his open jaws that disclosed shining fangs and a red tongue, and his
blazing eyes, together with the bristles that stood up on his neck very
much like those of a wild hog.
"Give 'em a shout!" exclaimed Fred, who remembered at that moment that
most dogs have learned to respect the sound of a human voice, and this
might serve to bring about a halt in the onrush of the savage pack.
Accordingly both of the young men started swinging their clubs wildly
about their heads and yelling at the top of their voices. This
threatening demonstration did have some effect on the milder elements of
the pack, those dogs that had been lured into wrong-doing, and were not
viciously inclined. Three immediately fell back, and one of these even
turned tail and started to run away at breakneck speed as though the
sight of those cudgels inspired him with respect, on account of a
recollection of some previous beating.
There were three, however, that still kept on, the leader of the pack,
and a couple of others. If ever Fred Fenton in all his life wished
heartily for a gun of some kind it must have been just then, when, with
only a single companion to stand alongside, he found himself about to be
attacked by a trio of furious dogs gone wild, and running through the
woods.
It would not have been so bad had there been only two, for then each of
them could manage an adversary; but that odd beast bothered him.
"Tackle the leader, and leave the others to me; I'll help you as soon as
I send them flying!" was what Fred exclaimed, as the three dogs bore down
upon them.
"All right; I'm on, Fred!"
There was no time for another word, because the animals were upon them.
They came with a rush, as though furious at seeing the bare-legged boys
in their hunting preserves. That leader must have taken a decided hatred
of all human kind, and when backed by his followers, seemed ready for any
deed of daring.
Fred and Bristles had their hands full from the very start. It was their
object to do all the damage they could without allowing any of the dogs a
chance to sink their teeth into their legs, or leap upon their backs, as
they appeared desirous of doing.
Luckily both boys were sturdy and agile. More than this, they realized
the desperate nature of their position, for no help could reach them
there. If they hoped to come out of the fight with credit, they must
depend wholly upon their own valor and ability.
Bristles whacked the dun-colored beast soundly, as he made a ferocious
leap up toward his throat, and had the satisfaction of seeing him whirl
headlong. It was only a temporary backset, however, for as soon as the
animal recovered his feet he made another mad rush, so that the boy was
kept busy prodding him, using his club right and left as an Irishman
might his shillalah, and in every way possible trying to beat the brute
off.
All the while Bristles kept up a shouting that was intended to nerve his
own arm, and possibly help to strike terror into the hearts of the
four-footed assailants.
"You will, eh? Take that for a starter, and plenty more where that came
from! Try to catch me off my guard, will you? Whoop! that was a beauty
of a crack! Hope I made you see stars that time, you snarling beast,
you! Get back there! Shinny on your own side, can't you?" and he gave a
sudden kick at one of the smaller dogs, that, taking advantage of the
row, had tried to creep in and nip him on the leg.
While all this was going on, Fred had his hands full with the other two
dogs. If they lacked some of the ferocity and daring of the leader of
the pack, it was made up in the fact of their being a pair to watch, and
keep from closing in with him.
Fast his club flew, and hearty were the whacks he gave right and left.
One after the other he had sent his assailants headlong, thanks to lucky
shots. When they returned to the scrap, they began to give evidence that
this sort of thing had begun to pall upon their liking, and this
encouraged the boy to work harder than ever.
Just then, imagine the delight of the two hard pressed boys when they
heard a cheery shout close by, and saw a lithe figure, also in running
trunks, come leaping toward the spot.
No need for them to ask themselves who this could be, for well did they
know the most remarkable method of getting over the ground peculiar to
Colon, and which some people likened to the singular hopping of a
kangaroo.
He already had a club in his hand, and he immediately started in to wield
it with telling effect on one of Fred's assailants. The consequence was
that this particular dog turned tail, and ran off at top speed. Its
mate, as though realizing the folly of keeping up an unequal combat,
hastened to do the same.
This left the savage leader of the pack alone to face three antagonists.
Fred could not help but feel something akin to admiration for the defiant
beast as he attacked first one and then another of them. Evidently the
idea of running, and saving his hide, had not as yet appealed to the
enraged dog.
"Keep knocking him, everybody!" shrieked Bristles, now more than ever
determined on finishing the terror of the neighboring farmers. "We've
just got to nail him, boys. Don't let him shoot past you! Pound him on
the head! Knock him galleywest! That was a socker, Fred; you've got him
down, I tell you! Now, everyone pile in and we'll end his sheep-killing
career for him!"
There was a concerted rush from three sides. The half dazed beast could
not recover in time to leap upon anyone of his foes, though he snapped
his jaws together so that his terrible teeth met with a clicking sound.
For a short time the clubs rained blows on his head, until Fred finally
called out:
"That's enough, fellows; he's thrown up the sponge!"
"Hurrah for us; we've cleaned the ugly pack out, boys!" cried Bristles,
thought so short of breath after his exertions that he could hardly stand
erect.
Yes, the sheep-killing dog had been slain, and while Fred was of course
very well pleased over the outcome of the fight, at the same time he
looked down with considerable respect upon the dun-colored beast that
could exhibit such desperate courage, and put up such a game defense
against three foes.
Bristles insisted upon shaking hands with each one of his mates, and then
he and Fred turned upon the long-legged Colon with a look of wonder on
their faces, as though they could not understand how it was he had shown
up at such a lucky moment.