There were some things Maori could not stand: this was one.

Out of a small storm of pebbles, chips, leaves, and dust, the two dogs presently came into view again, Cop on his back, pawing wildly at the unresisting air, and Maori at his throat, pinning him with a vice-like grip.
Harry rushed to the rescue, tore his dog free, and held back the furious animal up-reared and exposing vicious fangs.

Chris laid a trembling hand on the collar of the penitent Maori, and in this way the young people faced each other.

Their eyes met for a moment, Harry's frowning blackly, hers anxious and beseeching.
'I'm sorry,' she said.

'Is he hurt ?' 'No,' replied Harry sulkily.