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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Courage of Marge O'Doone"

"A devil!" he croaked again, and like a
madman began throwing in the frozen earth upon the body.
David turned away, sickened by the thud of the body and the fall of the
clods on its upturned face--for he had caught a last unpleasant glimpse
of the face, and it was staring and grinning up at the stars. A feeling
of dread followed him into the cabin. He filled the stove, and sat down
to wait for Father Roland. It was a long wait. He heard Mukoki go away.
The mice rustled about him again. An hour had passed when he heard a
sound at the door, a scraping sound, like the peculiar drag of claws
over wood, and a moment later it was followed by a whine that came to
him faintly. He opened the door slowly. Baree stood just outside the
threshold. He had given him two fish at noon, so he knew that it was not
hunger that had brought the dog to the cabin. Some mysterious instinct
had told him that David was alone; he wanted to come in; his yearning
gleamed in his eyes as he stood there stiff-legged in the moonlight.
David held out a hand, on the point of enticing him through the door,
when he heard the soft crunching of feet in the snow. A gray shadow,
swift as the wind, Baree disappeared. David scarcely knew when he went.


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