It arose out of a sheep-dog, a yellow mongrel brute that came at us like a thunderbolt.

It took a special fancy to Peter, and bit savagely at his horse's heels and sent it capering off the road.

I should have warned him, but I did not realize what was happening, till too late.

For Peter, being accustomed to mongrels in Kaffir kraals, took a summary way with the pest.

Since it despised his whip, he out with his pistol and put a bullet through its head.
The echoes of the shot had scarcely died away when the row began.