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 avoid a clump of lily-pads, awoke to his danger.

Panic, born of instinct inherited from a long line of woods-ranging forbears, swept over him like a wave. Had he held his straight course, he might have gained the little island of the cypress log, but his one thought was to get back to his master. The little old man heard his mad yelps of terror and saw him turn and strike out for the willow dyke. A gallant fight black Brutus made, swimming as he had never swum before, his small jet head jerking convulsively as he cried out to the master who had never failed him yet.

But from the beginning the odds were heavily against him. Those periscope eyes with the larger protruding nostril-knob in front were now sliding through the water at a rate exceeding the speed of the dog; and whereas black Brutus was swimming around the are of a wide half-circle, the 'gator was cutting straight across in a course which would intersect the are and which was bringing him each moment yards nearer to his prey. And the dog could not maintain the heart-breaking pace which he had set. Always the 'gator's speed was increasing while the dog's was diminishing. In his frenzy of terror black Brutus's strength seemed to have gone out of him—or else he was spending his strength with his breath in those shrill pitiful cries for help which went ringing and echoing along the