TOD SLOAN 



the wells. He had a big bull-dog known as "Pat 

 Grace's bull-dog." This dog and I would play to- 

 gether, rollick in the grass, pretend to bite each other 

 and spar like two kids. 



One morning I had forgotten that Tony had come 

 with me to Pat Grace's for the milk and before I knew 

 anything the bull had grabbed him by the neck through 

 the fence, and was shaking the stuffing out of my dog. 

 Then the two bounded through the fence on to the 

 railway track and Grace's bull had a new hold on Tony. 

 My dog weighed about 26 lb. while his attacker was 

 heavier than I was— about 56 lb. There was my 

 lovely dog being chewed to death in front of my eyes ! 

 What was to be done ! If the bull had turned on me 

 he would have done for me. I had a big clasp-knife 

 in my pocket and it was the work of a minute to whip 

 it out and give the first stab at that hulking brute— I 

 felt that way about him then although he was my 

 pal in peace-times. In a second another deep jab 

 followed up to the hilt of the knife, and then— it 

 closed on me and cut my fingers open to the bone. 

 Tony was gasping and whimpering. Myself I let that 

 bull have a one -two, a half -blade stab and one which 

 put him out. Tony had got away and was Hcking his 



wounds. 



I don't know how I got away myself, but I did, 

 delivered the milk, had a look at Tony, and— went 

 back to work. The first thing I did was to go up to 

 Pat Grace, who was sitting around after his breakfast. 



" Pat, I've killed your dog," I began. " He tried 

 to kill mine and I stabbed him to death." 



There was a pause and his face turned deathly white. 

 He half got up, then mastered himself, and replied : 

 " Then you better go and bury him, Tod." And he 

 turned away and never spoke to me again in his fife. 



260 



