Little Warhorse 
and dodging, he kept the line direct for the 
next farm-house, where was a very high board 
fence with a hen-hole, and where also there 
dwelt his other hated enemy, the big black 
Dog. An outer hedge delayed the Greyhound 
for a moment and gave Jack time to dash 
through the hen-hole into the yard, where he 
hid to one side. The Greyhound rushed 
around to the low gate, leaped over that among 
the Hens, and as they fled cackling and flutter- 
ing, some Lambs bleated loudly. Their natural 
guardian, the big black Dog, ran to the rescue, 
and Warhorse slipped out again by the hole 
at which he had entered. Horrible sounds of 
Dog hate and fury were heard behind him in 
the hen-yard, and soon the shouts of men were 
added. How it ended he did not know or seek 
to learn, but it was remarkable that he never 
afterward was troubled by the swift Greyhound 
that formerly lived in Newchusen. 
II 
Hard times and easy times had long followed 
in turn and been taken as matters of course; 
211 
