Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1915-10-09

and approached the tent. He drey
back the flap and peeped in Thorpe
wife was sleeping, and as quietly a
a cat he entered and hung the lanter,
on a nail in the tent pole. His move
ment did not awaken her, and for {
few moments he stood there, staring
staring.
Outside. crouching in the deep shad
ow. Kazan tried to fathom the mean
ing of these strange things that wer'
happening. Why had his master ant
McCready gone out into the forest
Why had not his master returned? /
was his master, and not McCready
who belonged in that tent. Then VIII!
was McCready there? He watched
McCready as he entered, and suddenly
the dog was on his feet, his back tense
and bristling, his limbs rigid. He
saw McCready's huge shadow on the
canvas, and a moment later there
came strange piercing cry. In the
wild terror Of that cry he recognized
her voice-and he leaped toward the
tent. The leash stopped him, choking
the snarl in his throat He saw the
shadows struggling now, and there
came cry after cry. She was calling
to his master and with his masters
name she was calling him!
"Kazan-Kazan-"
He leaped again. and was thrown
upon his back. A second and third
time he sprang the length of the leash
into the night, and the babiche cord
about his neck cut into his flesh like
knife He stopped for an instant,
gasping for breath. The shadows were
still fighting. Now they We're up
right! Now they were crumling down!
With fierce snarl he flung his whole
weight once more at the end Of the
chain. There was snap, as the
thong about his neck gave way
In half q dozen bounds Kazan made
the tent and rushed under the flap.
With snarl he was at McCready's
throat. The first snap Of his powerful
laws was death, but he did not know
that. He only knew that his mistress
was there and that he was fighting
for her. Then came one choking gasp
ing cry that ended with terrible
sob: it was McCready. The man sank
from his knees upon his back, and
Kazan thrust his fangs deeper into
his enemy's throat; he felt the warm
blood.
The dogs mistress was calling to
him now. She was pulling at his shag-
Ky neck. But he would not loose his
hold 49, not for long time. When ne
did, his mistress looked down once
upon the man and covered her face
with her hands. Then she sank down
upon the blankets She was very
still. Her face and hands were cold,
and Kazan muzzled them tenderly. Her
eyes were closed. He snuggled up
close against her, with his ready Jaws
turned toward the dead man. why
was she so still, he wondered?
A long time passed. and then she
moved. Her eyes opened. Her hand
touched him.
Then he heard step outside.
It was his master, and with that OLD
thrill of fear - fear of the club = he
went swiftly to the door. Yes, there
was his master in the freight = and
in his hand he held the club He was
coming slowly, almost falling at each
step, and his face was red with blood.
But he had the club! He would beat
him again - beat him terribly for
hurting McCready; so Kazan slipped
quietly under the tent flap and stole
off into the shadows. From out the
gloom of the thick spruce he looked
sack, and a low whine of love and
grief rose and died softly in his throat.
They would beat him always now -
afterhthat. Even she would beat him.
Thov uo,1ld HINT him down and heat
him when they found him.
From out Of the glow of the fire he
turned his wolfish head to the depths
of the forest. There were no clubs
or singing lashes out in that gloom.
They would never find him there.
For another moment he wavered.
And then, as silently as one Of the
wild creatures whose blood was partly
his, he stole away into the blackness
of the night.