The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1907-08-29

7 ton Of the mongrel as Joe Louden's
/ The impact Of his toe upon the little
runners side was momentous, and the
latter rose into the air. The judge
hoped, as one hops who, unshod in
the night, discovers an unexpected
chair. Let us be reconciled to his pain
and not reproach the gods with it, for
two of his unintending adversary's ribs
were cracked.
The dog, thus again detected, retrac-
ed his tracks, shrieking distractedly
and, by one of those ironical twists
which Karma reserves for the tails Of
the fated. dived for blind safety into
the store commanded by the ecstatic
and inimical clerk. There were shouts:
the sleepy square beginning to wake
up; the bench loafers strolled to
the street; the aged men stirred and
rose from their chairs; faces appeared
in the open windows of Offices; sales
ladies and gentlemen came to the door,
ways Of the trading places, so that
when Responsibility emerged from the
grocery he had notable audience for
Che scene he enacted with a brass din
ner bell tied to his tail.
Another potato, flung by the DimDled.
uproarious. prodigal clerk, added to
the impetus Of his fight. A shower of
pebbles from the hands Of exhilarated
boys denied the soft asphalt about
him. The hideous clamor Of the Dur
suing bell Increased as he turned the
next corner, running distractedly. The
dead town had come to life, and it's
inhabitants gladly risked the danger
GUS heat in the interest Of sport, where
by 1t was a merry chase the little dog
led around the block. For thus some
destructive instinct drove him. He
| could not stop with the indispensable
terror changing at his heels and the
increasing crowd yelling in pursuit, but
/ he turned to the left at each corner
| and thus came back to pass Joe's STAIR
way again, unable to pause there or
| anywhere, unable to do anything ex-
cept to continue his hapless fight, poor
meteor.
| Round the block he went once more,
and still no chance at that empty stair
way, where perhaps he thought, there
might be succor and safety. Blood was
upon his side where Martin Pixies boot
had crashed, foam and blood hung
upon his jaws and lolling tongue. He
ran desperately, keeping to the mid
die of the street, and, not bowling, set
himself despairingly to outstrip the
terror. The mob, disdaining the sun
superbly, pursued as closely as it could,
striking at him with clubs and sticks.
Happy Fear, playing "tic-tac-toe," right
hand against left, in his cell, heard the
uproar, made out something of what
was happening and, though unaware
that it was a friend whose life was
sought, discovered a similarity to his
own case and prayed to his dim gods
that the quarry might get away.
MAD dogr' they yelled. Mad dog!"
And there were some who cried, "Joe
Louden's dogv' that being equally as
exciting and explanatory.
Three times round, and still the lit
tie fugitive maintained a lead. A gray
helmeted policeman, big fellow, had
joined the pursuit. He had children
at home who might be playing in the
street, and the thought of what might
happen to them if the mad dog should
head that way resolved him to be cool
and steady. He was falling behind, so
he stopped on the corner, trusting that
Responsibility would come round again.
He was right, and the flying brownish
thing streaked along Main street, pass
ing the beloved stairway for the fourth
time. The policeman lifted his re-
volver, fired twice, missed once, but
caught him with a second shot in a
forepaw, clipping off a fifth toe, one
of the small claws that grow above
the foot and are always in trouble.
. This did not stop him, but the police
man, afraid to risk another shot be-
cause of the crowd, waited for him to
come again, and many others, seeing
the hopeless circuit the mongrel fol-
lowed, did likewise, armed with bricks
and clubs. Among them was the PIN
ply clerk, who had been inspired to
commander a pitchfork from a hard
ware store.
When the fifth round came Respecta-
bility's race was run. He turned into
Main street at broken speed, limping,
parched, voiceless, fecked with blood
and foam, swapping feebly at the
showering rocks, but still indomitably
little ahead Of the hunt There was
no yelp left in him-he was too thor
oughly winded for that but in his
brilliant and despairing eyes shone the
agony of cry louder than the tongue
of dog could utter-"O master, o all
the god I know, where are you in my
mortal needy'
Now indeed he had a gantlet to
run, for the street was lined with
those who awaited him, while the pur
suit grew closer behind. A number Of
the hardest stood squarely in his path,
and he hesitated for a second, which
gave the opportunity for surer aim.
and many missiles struck him. LET
- ~osI