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"
You
damn
beasts
!
"
he
finally
exploded
,
and
went
back
to
his
task
.
"
It
's
no
use
,
Mr.
Scott
,
you
ca
n't
break
'
m
apart
that
way
,
"
Matt
said
at
last
.
The
pair
paused
and
surveyed
the
locked
dogs
.
"
Ai
n't
bleedin
'
much
,
"
Matt
announced
.
"
Ai
n't
got
all
the
way
in
yet
.
"
"
But
he
's
liable
to
any
moment
,
"
Scott
answered
.
"
There
,
did
you
see
that
!
He
shifted
his
grip
in
a
bit
.
"
The
younger
man
's
excitement
and
apprehension
for
White
Fang
was
growing
.
He
struck
Cherokee
about
the
head
savagely
again
and
again
.
But
that
did
not
loosen
the
jaws
.
Cherokee
wagged
the
stump
of
his
tail
in
advertisement
that
he
understood
the
meaning
of
the
blows
,
but
that
he
knew
he
was
himself
in
the
right
and
only
doing
his
duty
by
keeping
his
grip
.
"
Wo
n't
some
of
you
help
?
"
Scott
cried
desperately
at
the
crowd
.
But
no
help
was
offered
.
Instead
,
the
crowd
began
sarcastically
to
cheer
him
on
and
showered
him
with
facetious
advice
.
"
You
'll
have
to
get
a
pry
,
"
Matt
counselled
.
The
other
reached
into
the
holster
at
his
hip
,
drew
his
revolver
,
and
tried
to
thrust
its
muzzle
between
the
bull-dog
's
jaws
.
He
shoved
,
and
shoved
hard
,
till
the
grating
of
the
steel
against
the
locked
teeth
could
be
distinctly
heard
.
Both
men
were
on
their
knees
,
bending
over
the
dogs
.
Tim
Keenan
strode
into
the
ring
.
He
paused
beside
Scott
and
touched
him
on
the
shoulder
,
saying
ominously
:
