214 STUBBS THE BADGER 
' Didn't me little tarrier ate the face off him lasht 
y/, v week, an' him runnin' from him like a rabbit.' 
Kinchella turned round scowling. ' Bedam, but 
I '11 fetch him,' he said thickly ; ' an' whin he has 
this baste aten, ye '11 alther ye singin'.' And he 
strode heavily away. 
Now James Kinchella's dog, Moss, was well 
known. He was a big grey sheep-dog with a wall 
eye ; and although he counted a collie among his 
immediate ancestors, the rest of his pedigree was 
buried in oblivion. However, he was reckoned the 
best cattle dog in the country ; and besides, had 
the name for killing a dog (let alone a fox) in half 
the time taken by his peers. He was the apple of 
his master's eye, and in a cooler moment Kinchella 
would sooner have tackled the badger himself, bare 
handed ; but as it was, he presently reappeared 
with the dog in a leash. 
Stubbs was exhausted, for, besides the strain of 
his imprisonment, he had been fighting for his life for 
more than an hour ; nevertheless, when some one 
kicked the barrel and shouted at him, he prepared for 
battle again. But it was a hot evening, and the dog 
was not inclined to fight. He sat down and 
yawned. To his master's orders he merely whined 
apologetically and wagged his tail. ' More 
power to ye,' shouted Grace sarcastically. 
