““They were fighting for your dog. But when Rask caught sight of me, he gave such a bound that the rope broke, and in the twinkling of an eye the rogue was after me. I did not stop to explain, but off I ran, with all the English at my heels. A regular hail of balls whistled past my ears. Rask barked, but they could not hear him for their shouts of ‘French dog! French dog!’ just as if Rask was hot of the pure St. Domingo breed. In spite of all I crushed through the thicket, and had almost got clean away when two red coats confronted me. My saber accounted for one, and would have rid me of the other had his pistol not unluckily had a bullet in it. My right arm suffered; but ‘French dog’ leaped at his throat as if he were an old acquaintance. Down fell the Englishman, for the embrace was so tight that he was strangled in a moment — and here we both are. My only regret is that I did not get my wound in to-morrow’s battle.” “Thaddeus, Thaddeus!” exclaimed the captain in tones of reproach; “were you mad enough to expose your life thus for a dog?” “It was not for a dog, it was for Rask.” D’Auverney’s face softened as Thaddeus added: “For Rask, for Bug’s dog.””
