Just then, away in front of us, was a queer whistle, and then another
one like it behind us. Jenkins made a strange noise in his throat, and
started to run down a side street, away from the direction of the two
whistles.
I was afraid that he was going to get away, and though I could not hold
him, I kept springing up on him, and once I tripped him up. Oh, how
furious he was! He kicked me against the side of a wall, and gave me two
or three hard blows with a stick that he caught up, and kept throwing
stones at me.
I would not give up, though I could scarcely see him for the blood that
was running over my eyes. Old Jim got so angry whenever Jenkins touched
me, that he ran up behind and nipped his calves, to make him turn on
him.
Soon Jenkins came to a high wall, where he stopped, and with a hurried
look behind, began to climb over it. The wall was too high for me to
jump. He was going to escape. What shall I do? I barked as loudly as I
could for some one to come, and then sprang up and held him by the leg
as he was getting over.
I had such a grip, that I went over the wall with him, and left Jim on
the other side.
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