A large dog was then set at him by a stable-boy; but, striking the animal with his faithful iron-bar, he speedily sent him yelping back. And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. "Stop him!" shouted Jonathan from the stair-head, "stop him! It's Jack Sheppard!" "Give way!" cried Jack fiercely.
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