The man slams the
door shut again, but there comes another smash.
This time it seems to come from inside the cabin, and it isn't
until the man looks around and sees everything quiet that he gets
up, without speaking, and makes a dash for the door, and tears
round outside the cabin like mad, but finds nothing but silence and
darkness. Then he comes back swearing and calls the dog. But that
great yellow dog that the boys would have staked all their money on
is crouching under the bunk, and has to be dragged out like a coon
from a hollow tree, and lies there, his eyes starting from their
sockets; every limb and muscle quivering with fear, and his very
hair drawn up in bristling ridges. The man calls him to the door.
He drags himself a few steps, stops, sniffs, and refuses to go
further. The man calls him again, with an oath and a threat.
Then, what does that yellow dog do? He crawls edgewise towards the
door, crouching himself against the bunk till he's flatter than a
knife blade; then, half way, he stops. Then that d--d yellow dog
begins to walk gingerly--lifting each foot up in the air, one after
the other, still trembling in every limb.
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