And, when some such suffering beast is seen, on his way to
solitude, we humans prove our humanity by raising the idiotic
bellow of "Mad dog!" and by chasing and torturing the victim. All
this, despite proof that not one sick dog in a thousand, thus
assailed, has any disease which is even remotely akin to rabies.
Next to vivisection, no crime against helpless animals is so
needlessly and foolishly cruel as the average mad-dog chase.
Which is a digression; but which may or may not enable you to
keep your head, next time a mad-dog scare sweeps your own
neighborhood.
Down the middle of the dusty street trotted the sick mongrel.
Five minutes earlier, he had escaped from the damp cellar in
which his owner had imprisoned him when first he fell ill. And
now, his one purpose was to leave the village behind him and to
gain the leafy refuge of the foothills beyond.
Out from a door-yard, flashed a bumptious little fox terrier.
Into the roadway he bounded; intent on challenging the bigger
animal.
He barked ferociously; then danced in front of the invalid;
yapping and snapping up at the hanging head.
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