Foot by foot Baree slunk to him on his belly, and
when at last he was at David's feet he faced Thoreau again, his
terrible teeth snarling, a low, rumbling growl in his throat. David
reached down and touched him, even as he heard the fox breeder make an
incoherent sound in his beard. At the caress of his hand a great shudder
passed through Baree's body, as if he had been stung. That touch was the
connecting link through which passed the electrifying thrill of a man's
soul reaching out to a brute instinct.
Baree had found a man friend!
When David stepped away from him to Thoreau's side as much of the
Frenchman's face as was not hidden under his beard was of a curious
ashen pallor. He seemed to make a struggle before he could get his
voice.
And then: "M'sieu, I tell you it is incredible! I cannot believe what I
have seen. It was a miracle!"
He shuddered. David was looking at him, a bit puzzled. He could not
quite comprehend the fear that had possessed him. Thoreau saw this, and
pointing to Baree--a gesture that brought a snarl from the beast--he
said:
"He is bad, m'sieu, _bad_! He is the worst dog in all this country. He
was born an outcast--among the wolves--and his heart is filled with
murder.
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