At a scrambling run, she set off, around the house; head
down, bitten tail aloft; the two dogs at her bleeding haunches.
Dimly, she saw a big and black obstacle loom up in her path. It
was coming noisily toward her. But she was going too fast and too
blindly to swerve. And she met it, headlong; throwing her vast
weight forward in an attempt to smash through it. At the same
time, Wolf and Bruce left off harrying her flanks and sprang
aside.
Dugan had reached the garage unseen. There, he had backed out the
car, by hand; shoving it into the open, lest the motor-whirr give
premature announcement of his presence. Then, as he boarded the
machine and reached for the self-starter, all bedlam broke loose,
from somewhere in the general direction of the house, fifty yards
away.
Dugan, glancing up apprehensively, beheld the first phases of the
fight. Forgetting the need of haste and of secrecy, he sat there,
open-mouthed, watching a scrimmage which was beyond all his
sporting experience and which thrilled him as no prize-fight had
ever done. Moveless, wide eyed, he witnessed the battle.
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