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 
