He moaned as if in pain, his
torture causing him to snap at everything in reach. He had bitten
shrubbery, branches, wood and other objects, and now made for the
persons with the purpose of using his teeth on them.
"Rube," said his uncle, "stand right whar you am! No use ob runnin',
for he'll cotch you; when he gets nigh 'nough bang him wid your hoe; if
dat don't fotch him, I'll gib him anoder whack and dat'll finish him
suah."
Fate seemed to have ordered that the younger person should hold the van
in the peril, though he was tempted to take his place by his relative,
so that the attack of the dog should be met by both at the same
instant. This promised to be effective, but the time was too brief to
permit any plan of campaign.
The brute was already within a hundred yards of Rube, who, with his hoe
drawn back, as though it were a club, tried to calm his nerves for the
struggle. He would have fled, had he not known that that would draw
pursuit to himself. He was inclined to urge his uncle to join him in a
break for freedom, the two taking diverging routes. Since the canine
could not chase both at the same time, such a course was certain to
save one, but, inasmuch as the youth was at the front, he knew he must
be the victim, and the prospect of a mad dog nipping at his heels, with
fangs surcharged with one of the most fearful venoms known, was too
terrifying to be borne.
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