When the black moved, he moved, but more swiftly, cutting down the distance between them.

And all the while the hair of his neck and shoulders bristled in recurrent waves of ferocity and wrath.
No golden dog this, ears flattened and tongue laughing in the arms of the lady-god, no Sing Song Silly chanting ancient memories in the cloud-entanglement of her hair; but a four-legged creature of battle, a fanged killer ripe to rend and destroy.
Jerry intended to attack as soon as he had crept sufficiently near.

He was unaware of the _Ariel_ taboo against nigger-chasing.

At that moment it had no place in his consciousness.

All he knew was that harm threatened the man and woman and that this nigger intended this harm.
So much had Jerry gained on his quarry, that when again the black squatted for his shot, Jerry deemed he was near enough to rush.