THE SEVEN SLEEPERS 195 



pain. They would whirl in circles, and roll over and 

 over in the clinches; but always the old chuck would 

 be found with his squat figure on its legs at the end 

 of each round. His thick grizzled coat was more of 

 a protection, too, than the thin skin of the short- 

 haired terrier. 



At last both of them were tired out. As if by agree- 

 ment, both drew back and lay down, panting and 

 watching each other's every movement like two 

 boxers. Finally, the woodchuck, who was nearer the 

 brook, began to drag himself along until he reached 

 the edge of the water. Then he lowered his head, 

 still watching his opponent, and sucked in deep, 

 cool, satisfying drinks. 



It was too much for Paddy. He started for the 

 brook also. The old chuck stopped drinking, and 

 pulled himself together; but Paddy wanted water, 

 not blood. In a moment he had his nose in the 

 brook. There the two lay, not a couple of yards 

 apart, and drank until they could drink no more. 



The whistlepig was the first out. Slowly and 

 watchfully he waddled away from the brook and 

 toward the stone wall, that refuge of all hunted little 

 animals. Paddy gave a fierce growl, but the water 

 tasted too good, and he stayed for another long 

 drink. Then he darted out after the woodchuck, 

 barking ferociously all the time, as if he could hardly 

 wait to begin the battle again. The woodchuck 

 watched him steadily, ready to stop and fight at any 

 moment. 



Somehow, although Paddy barked and growled 



