That was on the 12th of June, and after that time only two persons entered the cellar.

The hired girl went down once after the cold beef, and came up disheveled and bleeding, with a number of appalling dog-bites in her legs, and I descended immediately afterward for the purpose of pacifying the infuriated animal.

He did not feel disposed to become calm, however, and I deem it probable that if I had not suddenly clambered into the coal-bin, where I remained until he fell asleep in a distant corner about four hours later, I should certainly have been torn to pieces.

We thought we would have to try to get along with out using the cellar until Butterwick could come up and take away his dog.
But Butterwick wrote to say that he couldn't come, and the dog, after eating everything in the cellar and barking all through every night, finally bolted up stairs into the kitchen on the 2d of July, and established himself in the back yard.

After that we used the front door exclusively while we were waiting for Butterwick to come up.