Old Specie, the Treasury Detective; or, The Harbor Lights of New York — page 152: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

144 OLD SPECIE. The detective could not answer. At this moment the dog’s howls changed their tenor. They seemed to be filled with the exultant ery of a hound on the trail, and about to leap on his quarry. One thought flashed through the mind of the de- tective, but it was a terrible one. The dog had broken his chain! He was free. Poor John! he might have his back turned toward the fierce brute as he worked at the door, and—— For half a minute or so it sounded as though Bed- lam had broken loose. There arose a medley of howls, snarls and human oaths. Then came a dull report. A second, more penetrating, foliowed. John Bailey had fortunately succeeded in getting out his revolver, and the dull report of the first shot was accounted for in the fact that the weapon was undoubtedly pressed against the body of the hound. The result? Well, the dog’s snarling and yelping ceased as if by magic, showing that the brute must have re- ceived his death wound in the melee. The detective had wheeled at the first sound of a disturbance from outside. He feared lest this desperate man might take a notion to shoot him down, as he guessed the true state of affairs. Snyder seemed petrified by the sounds. He realized that his dog was engaged in a rough and tumble fight with some one, but the true na- ture of the affair did not seem to break in upon him ‘comicbooks (elo)