Lad got his grip. And, with all his fragile old strength, he hung
on; grinding the outworn fangs further and further into the
sensitive nose of his squealing foe.
This stopped the sow's impetuous charge; for good and all. With a
heavy collie hanging to one's tortured nose and that collie's
teeth sunk deep into it, there is no scope for thinking of any
other opponent. She halted, striking furiously, with her sharp
cloven fore-hoofs, at the writhing dog beneath her.
One ferociously driving hoof cut a gash in Lad's chest. Another
tore the skin from his shoulder. Unheeding, he hung on. The sow
braced herself, solid, on outspread legs; and shook her head and
forequarters with all her muscular might.
Lad was hurled free, his weakened jaws failing to withstand such
a yank. Over and over he rolled, to one side; the sow charging
after him. She had lost all interest in attacking the Mistress.
Her flaming little brain now held no thought except to kill and
mangle the dog that had hurt her snout so cruelly. And she rushed
at him, the tushes glinting from under her upcurled and bleeding
lips.
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