"He loves dogs. He wants to play with ... what is his name?"
"Baree. And mine is David."
"Baree--David. See!"
Like a bird she had left his side and in an instant, it seemed, was
astride the big grizzly, digging her fingers into Tara's thick
coat--smiling back at him, her radiant hair about her like a cloud,
filled with marvellous red-and-gold fires in the sun.
"Come," she said, holding out a hand to David. "I want Tara to know you
are our friend. Because"--the darkness came into her eyes again--"I have
been _training him_, and I want him to know he must not hurt _you_."
David went to them, little fancying the acquaintance he was about to
make, until Marge slipped off her bear and put her two arms
unhesitatingly about his shoulders, and drew him down with her close in
front of Tara's big head and round, emotionless eyes. For a thrilling
moment or two she pressed her face close to his, looking all the time
straight at Tara, and talking to him steadily. David did not sense what
she was saying, except that in a general way she was telling Tara that
he must never hurt this man, no matter what happened. He felt the warm
crush of her hair on his neck and face. It billowed on his breast for a
moment.
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