Don't you be afraid." "I'm not going to be," said Nic; though he felt a little nervous, and thought of the consequences of a snap from those steel-trap jaws.
"That's right, sir.

There--you'll be friends enough after this, Nibbler knows." But Nibbler shook his head and growled, for the collies, after protesting, whining jealously at Nic's favours being bestowed upon a stranger instead of upon them, barked again and came on steadily, as if to attack the stranger.
"Down, down!" cried Nic; and they stopped.
"It's all right now; they shan't fight.

Here, I'll show you.

You ketch hold of this, sir." Samson took an old pitchfork from where it stood in a corner, handed it to Nic, and then, somewhat to the boy's dismay, took hold of the big dog's collar with both hands, and set it free by dragging the strap over its ears.
Then for a moment there were threatenings of a fight, but a shout from Samson checked the turbulent spirit.
"Give Nib a rap over the head with that fork shaft if he don't mind you, sir.

He's hard as iron, so you may hit sharp.