“I think, Mr. Caresfoot, that you had better call your dog off,” said Arthur, good-temperedly.  “Mine is a peaceable animal, but he is an awkward customer when he does fight.”

“Oh! better let them settle it; they will be much better friends afterwards.  Hold him, Snarleyow.”

Thus encouraged, the big dog seized the other, and fairly lifted him off the ground, shaking him violently—­a proceeding that had the effect of thoroughly rousing Aleck’s temper.  And then began a most Homeric combat.  At first the bull-dog was dreadfully mauled; his antagonist’s size, weight, and length of leg and jaw, to say nothing of the thick coat by which he was protected, all telling against him.  But he took his punishment very quietly, never so much as uttering a growl, in strange contrast to the big dog’s vociferous style of doing business.  And at last patience was rewarded by his enemy’s fore-paw finding its way into Aleck’s powerful jaw, and remaining there till Snarleyow’s attentions to the back of his neck forced him to shift his hold.  From that time forward the sheep-dog had to fight on three legs, which he found demoralizing.  But still he had the advantage, and it was not until any other dog of Aleck’s size would have retreated half killed that the bull-dog’s superior courage and stamina began to tell.  Quite heedless of his injuries, and the blood that poured into his eyes, he slowly but surely drove the great sheep-dog, who by this time would have been glad to stop, back into an angle of the wall, and then suddenly pinned him by the throat.  Down went Snarleyow on the top of the bull-dog, and rolled right over him, but when he staggered to his legs again, his throat was still in its cruel grip.

“Take your dog off!” shouted George, seeing that affairs had taken a turn he very little expected.

“I fear that is impossible,” replied Arthur, politely, but looking anything but polite.

“If you don’t get it off, I will shoot it.”

“You will do nothing of the sort, Mr. Caresfoot; you set the dog on, and you must take the consequences.  Ah! the affair is finished.”

As he spoke, the choking Snarleyow, whose black tongue was protruding from his jaws, gave one last convulsive struggle, and ceased to breathe.  Satisfied with this result, Aleck let go, and having sniffed contemptuously at his dead antagonist, returned to his master’s side, and, sitting quietly down, began to lick such of his numerous wounds as he could reach.

George, when he realized that his favourite was dead, turned upon his guest in a perfect fury.  His face looked like a devil’s.  But Arthur, acting with wonderful self-possession for so young a man, stopped him.

“Remember, Mr. Caresfoot, before you say anything that you may regret, that neither I nor my dog is to blame for what has happened.  I am exceedingly sorry that your dog should have been killed, but it is your own fault.  I am afraid, however, that, after what has happened, I shall be as unwelcome here as Aleck; so, if you will kindly order the cart for me again, I will move on.  Our business can no doubt be finished off by letter.”