"Stop," cried a voice of command behind her, "you'll have the dog turn upon you as soon as he has finished his present job," and a welcome deliverer ran forward just in time. He seized the first tail he could grasp--luckily for him it was Tray's and not Growler's--and hung on to it like a vice. The "redder" of the combatants, regardless of "the redder's lick," which was likely to be his portion, continued to hold the tail of the now yelling Tray, and at the same time seized him by the scruff of the neck with the other hand, and dragged both animals, still locked together, with his whole force nearer and nearer to the edge of the bank by the river. A new terror beset May. "Take care, you'll have them in the water." No sooner said than done. With a plunge the two dogs fell heavily into the Dewes, while the man who had brought them to this pass kept his own footing with difficulty. "They'll both be drowned," cried May, clasping her hands in the last depths of anguish. "Not at all," said Tom Robinson, panting a little from his exertions and wiping his hands with his handkerchief. "I did it on purpose--don't you see? It was the only way to make the beggars lose their grip. Look there, they are swimming like brothers down the stream--that small spitfire of yours is not badly hurt. I told you that you were spoiling him--you ought to make him obey and come to heel, or he will become the torment of your life. The bank shelves a little a few yards further down; you will find that he will come to shore shaking himself nothing the worse. It may be a lesson to him; if not, I should like to give him a bit of my mind." True enough, Tray scrambled up the bank presently, bearing no more alarming traces of the fray than were to be found in his limping on three legs, and halting every other minute that he might ruefully attend to the fourth. Growler also landed, and after glancing askance at his antagonist and at the champion who had suddenly interposed between Tray and his deserts, wisely agreed with the small maid-servant on the judiciousness of immediately taking themselves off, in company with the perambulator and the babies, to avoid any chance of awkward inquiries. May ran to Tray, clasped him all dripping in her arms, and prepared to carry him tenderly home. But in spite of the injuries, for which he was exceedingly sorry, he asserted his spirit of independence, and declined to be made a baby of. "I am afraid we have given you a great deal of trouble, Mr. Tom," said Dora, while May was still devoting herself to her rescued treasure. Dora spoke shyly, and inadvertently used the old familiar name, which he had borne when his father was alive. "Don't mention it," he said gravely, as shy as she was; "I feel answerable for inflicting that wretched dog on you--that is, on your sister. I was sure he would lead you a pretty dance after he was in the shop this afternoon."