"I---I'll take you!" quavered Ripley.
"Of course you will," nodded Darrin. "Wait till I see if the
lantern is all right."
He crawled into the tent, found the lantern and struck a match.
Curiously enough the lantern had not been injured. Placing the
lantern outside, Darrin sharply commanded his chance companion
to aid in propping the canvas so that those underneath could get
air.
"Now, come along," ordered Darrin, when this had been done. "Towser,
watch the---the gentleman!"
Thus they started up the slope, when they heard a growl just ahead
of them. In the same instant Towser, uttering a yelp, turned
and darted away as fast as he could go.
"Now, we'll see whether you'll boss me," grunted Fred Ripley,
brandishing the club that he held in his left hand. "Your dog
is no good any more."
"Neither will you or I be any good any more if we don't keep our
nerve," uttered Darrin quietly, as he turned the lantern's rays
against the object in their path. "There's only one thing in
the world Towser would run away from, and that's just what is
ahead of us---a mad dog!"
At this instant Fred, too, caught sight of the object in their
path. A large dog, of doubtful breed, stood before them, its
head down, but its bloodshot eyes watching them cunningly. It's
dripping jaws carried conviction that the animal was rabid.
Fred did not cry out or stir. He was too frightened to do either.
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