The thought gave him an atrocious satisfaction. He
was filled with a sudden contempt for himself. If Father Roland had
known, he would have uttered a paean of joy.
Out of the darkness of the humour into which he had fallen, David was
suddenly flung by a low and ferocious growl. He had stepped around a
young balsam that stood like a seven-foot ghost in his path, and found
himself face to face with a beast that was cringing at the butt of a
thick spruce. It was a dog. The animal was not more than four or five
short paces from him, and was chained to the tree. David surveyed him
with sudden interest, wondering first of all why he was larger than the
other dogs. As he lay crouched there against his tree, his ivory fangs
gleaming between half-uplifted lips, he looked like a great wolf. In the
other dogs David had witnessed an avaricious excitement at the approach
of men, a hungry demand for food, a straining at leash ends, a whining
and snarling comradeship. Here he saw none of those things. The big,
wolf-like beast made no sound after that first growl, and made no
movement. And yet every muscle in his body seemed gathered in a tense
readiness to spring, and his gleaming fangs threatened. He was
ferocious, and yet shrinking; ready to leap, and yet afraid.
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