The child rolls over and over, and then, sitting up, begins to cry, more from surprise at the rough treatment than because he is hurt.
There is no time for John to turn and fly, and pick up the child on the way.
The dog is upon him.
John has only a chance to drop on his knee, and thrust his left arm forward.
Those who are watching, and they are many, hold their breath in dread suspense.
"Heaven preserve him!" says Lady Ruth, wringing her clasped hands in an agony of fear.
They see the youth, he is hardly more, offer his bound arm to the beast, and those glittering fangs at once close upon it.
Then, quick as a flash, having filled the dog's jaws, John Craig throws himself forward, his whole effort being to crush the animal to the ground by his weight.
It is the work of a strategist.

A veteran hunter when met by a fierce panther could not do better than this.
As John has expected, the dog, taken by surprise, does not offer the resistance that his powerful strength would warrant, but is at once borne backward, nor can he release his hold from the cloth-bound arm which his teeth have seized upon.
A struggle under such circumstances must be a terrible thing, and the shorter it can be made the better.
They see the man throw himself upon the brute; they know his other hand has sought the animal's throat, as the only means of ending his existence.
Prayers for his safety arise from many a heart, as the people watch the dreadful conflict from windows, and balconies, and other places where they have sought refuge.
The struggle is of brief duration.
John has the advantage in the contest, and the desire in his soul to prevent this mad beast from injuring others lends him a strength beyond what is naturally his portion.
With a grip of iron he clutches the brute's throat, and in a few moments the dog stiffens in death.
The young medical student arises, but the ferocious brute lies there harmless in the roadway.

The smallest child in Valetta may play on the street now and fear no evil, thanks to the love one American bears for his mother.
Now that the danger is past, people flock out.
With the rest our tourists hasten toward the young hero.

A form flies past them with wild eyes and disheveled hair; a form that pounces upon the little chap still crying in fright, and presses him convulsively to her breast.
That is the mother of the child.
They rush to the spot, some to congratulate the youth who slew the dog, others to gaze upon the horrible spectacle the animal presents as he lies there devoid of life.
Lady Ruth comes with the rest, and upon her fair face and in her sunny eyes can be seen a warmth of keenest admiration, such as poor Blunt failed to receive when he leaned far over the dizzy precipice to secure the flower Miss Caprice desired.
"Oh, doctor, how noble of you! I shall never forgive myself for the foolish blunder I made.

See! these people look upon you as a hero, for you risked your life for a child of Malta.