Kazan | Page 6

dogs of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police--and his master
was calling him Pedro! The scene shifted. They were in camp. His
master was young and smooth-faced and he helped from the sledge
another man whose hands were fastened in front of him by curious
black rings. Again it was later--and he was lying before a great fire. His
master was sitting opposite him, with his back to a tent, and as he
looked, there came out of the tent the man with the black rings--only
now the rings were gone and his hands were free, and in one of them he
carried a heavy club. He heard the terrible blow of the club as it fell on
his master's head--and the sound of it aroused him from his restless
sleep.
He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. The
fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that precedes
dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready. Again he was
standing close to the tent of his mistress, and he knew now that this was

the man who had worn the black iron rings, and that it was he who had
beaten him with whip and club for many long days after he had killed
his master. McCready heard the menace in his throat and came back
quickly to the fire. He began to whistle and draw the half-burned logs
together, and as the fire blazed up afresh he shouted to awaken Thorp
and Isobel. In a few minutes Thorpe appeared at the tent-flap and his
wife followed him out. Her loose hair rippled in billows of gold about
her shoulders and she sat down on the sledge, close to Kazan, and
began brushing it. McCready came up behind her and fumbled among
the packages on the sledge. As if by accident one of his hands buried
itself for an instant in the rich tresses that flowed down her back. She
did not at first feel the caressing touch of his fingers, and Thorpe's back
was toward them.
Only Kazan saw the stealthy movement of the hand, the fondling clutch
of the fingers in her hair, and the mad passion burning in the eyes of the
man. Quicker than a lynx, the dog had leaped the length of his chain
across the sledge. McCready sprang back just in time, and as Kazan
reached the end of his chain he was jerked back so that his body struck
sidewise against the girl. Thorpe had turned in time to see the end of
the leap. He believed that Kazan had sprung at Isobel, and in his horror
no word or cry escaped his lips as he dragged her from where she had
half fallen over the sledge. He saw that she was not hurt, and he
reached for his revolver. It was in his holster in the tent. At his feet was
McCready's whip, and in the passion of the moment he seized it and
sprang upon Kazan. The dog crouched in the snow. He made no move
to escape or to attack. Only once in his life could he remember having
received a beating like that which Thorpe inflicted upon him now. But
not a whimper or a growl escaped him.
[Illustration: "Not another blow!"]
And then, suddenly, his mistress ran forward and caught the whip
poised above Thorpe's head.
"Not another blow!" she cried, and something in her voice held him
from striking. McCready did not hear what she said then, but a strange
look came into Thorpe's eyes, and without a word he followed his wife

into their tent.
"Kazan did not leap at me," she whispered, and she was trembling with
a sudden excitement. Her face was deathly white. "That man was
behind me," she went on, clutching her husband by the arm. "I felt him
touch me--and then Kazan sprang. He wouldn't bite me. It's the man!
There's something--wrong--"
She was almost sobbing, and Thorpe drew her close in his arms.
"I hadn't thought before--but it's strange," he said. "Didn't McCready
say something about knowing the dog? It's possible. Perhaps he's had
Kazan before and abused him in a way that the dog has not forgotten.
To-morrow I'll find out. But until I know--will you promise to keep
away from Kazan?"
Isobel gave the promise. When they came out from the tent Kazan
lifted his great head. The stinging lash had closed one of his eyes and
his mouth was dripping blood. Isobel gave a low sob, but did not go
near him. Half blinded, he knew that his mistress had stopped his
punishment, and he whined softly, and wagged his thick tail in the
snow.
Never had he felt so miserable as through the long hard hours of the