We shrank back against the side-walls, where we were almost out of range.

But by industrious poking he got us now and again--cruel, scraping jabs with the end of the stick that raked off the hide and hair.

When we screamed with the hurt, he roared his satisfaction and jabbed the harder.
I began to grow angry.

I had a temper of my own in those days, and pretty considerable courage, too, albeit it was largely the courage of the cornered rat.

I caught hold of the stick with my hands, but such was his strength that he jerked me into the crevice.