A shrill yelling, rather than yelping, of more enemies made him whirl half about, but not quick enough.

Struck in flank by two full-grown fox-terriers, he was slashed and rolled on the deck.

The two, by the way, had long before made their first appearance on the _Makambo_ as little puppies in Dag Daughtry's coat pockets--Daughtry, in his usual fashion, having appropriated them ashore in Sydney and sold them to Captain Duncan for a guinea apiece.
By this time, scrambling to his feet, Michael was really angry.

In truth, it was raining cats and dogs, such belligerent shower all unprovoked by him who had picked no quarrels nor even been aware of his enemies until they assailed him.

Brave the fox-terriers were, despite the hysterical rage they were in, and they were upon him as he got his legs under him.