they wrestled with striving paws and the expression 

 of fiends incarnate. Down they went, Shep 

 underneath, and the great dog with a dozen of 

 these wolves of hell upon him. Rasper, devilish, 

 was riding on his back ; the Venus — well for him 

 — had struck and missed ; but Chip and Grapple 

 had their hold ; and the others, like leaping 

 demoniacs, were plunging into the whirlpool vortex 

 of the fight. 



And there, where a fortnight before he had 

 fought and lost the battle of the Cup, Red Wull 

 now battled for his life. 



Long odds : but what cared he ? The long- 

 drawn agony of the night was drowned in that 

 glorious delirium ; the hate of years came bubbling 

 forth. In that supreme moment he would avenge 

 his wrongs on humanity. And he went in to fight, 

 revelling like a giant in the red lust of killing. 



Long odds. Never before had he faced such a 

 galaxy of foes. His one chance lay in quickness : 

 to prevent the swarming crew getting their hold 

 till at least he had diminished them. 



Then it was a sight to see the great brute, huge 

 as a bull-calf, strong as a bull, rolling over and 

 over and up again, quick as a kitten ; leaping 

 here, striking there ; shaking himself free ; 

 swinging his quarters ; fighting with feet and 

 body and teeth — every inch of him at war. 

 More than once he broke through the ruck ; only 



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