At Harvard
In the Harvard Yard (campus), a yellow and white hound-dog, weight 35 pounds, watched some squirrels at play, stalked them, sprang, flattened a young squirrel under his paw. The pinioned creature twisted this way and that, emitting sharp, tiny screams of pain. Down from the trees ran the other squirrels. They surrounded the dog and curled their whiskered lips, making a snarling noise. Now it was the hound-dog's turn to cringe; it was his turn to squeal with agony as the squirrel under his paw twisted around, bit his forefoot—as the other...
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