He did not have a hundred yards' start of the dogs, and in less than a
minute one of the greyhounds ranged up and passed him with a savage snap
that brought him too; and before he could recover the whole pack rushed
at him. Weakened as he was he could make no effective fight against so
many foes, and indeed had a chance for but one or two rapid snaps before
he was thrown down and completely covered by the bodies of his enemies.
Yet with one of these snaps he did damage, as a shrill yell told, and in
a second an over-rash track-hound came out of the struggle with a deep
gash across his shoulders. The worrying, growling, and snarling were
terrific, but in a minute the heaving mass grew motionless and the dogs
drew off, save one or two that still continued to worry the dead wolf as
it lay stark and stiff with glazed eyes and rumpled fur.
No sooner were we satisfied that it was dead than the Judge, with cheers
and oaths and crackings of his whip, urged the dogs after the other
wolf. The two greyhounds that had been with old man Prindle had
fortunately not been able to see the wolves when they first broke from
the cover, and never saw the wounded wolf at all, starting off at full
speed after the unwounded one the instant he topped the crest of the
hill.
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