Up to this moment Grumbo had kept his powerful jaws clenched unrelentingly on the throat of the dead savage; but seeing the new danger threatening his master, he had at last released his hold, and with a growl and a bound was at the enemy's skirts, which he seized with a violent backward tug, just as the tomahawk was on the point of being hurled, and with a force and an aim which else had sent the black giant rolling in his turn to the bottom of the hill. Again had the war-dog turned the scale of battle in his leader's favor. "I yi, you dogs!" And with his battle-cry resounding again through the lonely wilds, the Fighting Nigger threw himself on his new antagonist, whom the invincible Grumbo still held back by the skirts, and wresting the scalping-knife from the young brave's hand, bore him with resistless force to the ground--Indian, nigger, and dog, all in a huddle together. "Han's uff, Grumbo!" For the war-dog, now that his blood was up, could hardly be restrained from falling tooth and nail on the prostrate foe. "Han's uff! You's chawed up one uf de varmints; jes' let Burlman Rennuls wind up dis one. Han's uff, I say; or I'll----." And with this the Fighting Nigger made a sham thrust with the knife at his comrade's nose, which forced him to fall back a few paces, where he sat doggedly down on his tail, with the injured air of a faithful follower who had been defrauded of his dues. Big Black Burl looked down on the young Indian brave: the young Indian brave, with unflinching bright, black eyes, looked up at Big Black Burl. Slowly the victor raised the murderous knife aloft, his eyes still bent on the young brave's face, and seeing there something that made his hand less swift than was its wont in dealing the death-blow. But the knife was on the point of descending when Bushie came running up to the spot, crying out in beseeching accents as he came: "Don't, Burl, don't kill that one! Please don't!" This stayed the uplifted hand, and glancing around at his little master, Burl, with a look of great surprise, exclaimed, "W'y, Bushie, taint nothin' but a Injun!" "But that one was good to me, Burl." "A red varmint good to a little white boy! Git out!" "Yes, but he was, Burl. That one," pointing to the dead savage, "was going to split my head open with his hatchet, when this one," pointing to the young brave, "ran up to him and pushed him away from me, and said something to him loud and mad which made him look scared and mean." "What did de big Injun do to you, Bushie?" inquired Burl, now lowering the knife. "He didn't do nothing to me but look ugly at me, when this one would be toting me on his back across the creeks and up the hills." "Which one uf de varmints was it, Bushie, dat gobbled you up frum de corn-fiel' fence, back yander?"