When the men finally
rescued it, it was completely winded and shaking with fright; it was
covered with drops of blood which trickled down its legs (on which
repeated wounds had left scars), and, mingling with sweat, moistened its
worn hoofs.
But the best of the performance was the general fight between the dogs;
all took part in it, the big and the little ones, the bull-dogs, the
sheep-dogs, the white ones, the black ones, the spotted ones, and the
russet variety. Fully fifteen minutes were spent in bringing them to the
proper pitch of excitement. The owners held them between their legs and
pointing their heads in the direction of their adversaries, would knock
them together violently. The thin man, especially, worked with great
gusto. With much effort he succeeded in producing a ferocious, hoarse
chest-note that maddened the whole irritated pack. As serious as an
orchestra leader, he would absorb the discordant harmony, and direct and
strengthen its emission; but when the brutes were let loose and the
howling band tore one another to pieces, he would be in a frenzy of
enthusiasm and delight. He would applaud and bark and stamp his feet and
imitate all the motions of the dogs; he would have enjoyed biting and
being bitten, would gladly have been a dog himself with a snout, so that
he could wallow in the dust and blood, and sink his teeth in the hairy
skins and warm flesh, and enjoy the fray to his heart's content.
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