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Low words of an insane joy burst from his lips. His head was hot with a drunken fire. His heart beat madly, but scarcely more furiously than did Kazan's when the dog saw that McCready was returning with a club! The club he placed on end against a tree. Then he took a lantern from the sledge and lighted it. He approached Thorpe's tent-flap, the lantern in his hand. "Ho, Thorpe Thorpe!" he called.
In an instant Kazan cringed as if touched by a lash. "Got you that time didn't I, you old devil!" whispered McCready, his face strangely pale in the firelight. "Changed your name, eh? But I got you didn't I?" For a long time after he had uttered those words McCready sat in silence beside the fire. Only for a moment or two at a time did his eyes leave Kazan.
"If I know Captain Evans as well as I think I do, the Denver is not retreating," replied McCready grimly. "I hope she's hammering the fort out of existence," said the doctor. "However, our main interest just now is on the land front. Gunners to the fore. Carnes, you aren't so good at this, better let McCready and me handle them." The trucks approached slowly.
Carnes and the doctor drew, McCready exhibited the remaining bit of grass. It was the shortest of the three. He waited until the next shell burst above them and then stepped out from the shelter. "I'll relieve you in fifteen minutes," said Carnes as he left. "Right." When the lieutenant had left, Dr.
She spoke no word to him. He whined, and turned his red eyes on McCready. In the tent Thorpe was saying: "I'm sorry old Jackpine wouldn't go back with us, Issy. He drove me down, but for love or money I couldn't get him to return. He's a Mission Indian, and I'd give a month's salary to have you see him handle the dogs. I'm not sure about this man McCready.
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 back, and a low whine of love and grief rose and died softly in his throat. They would beat him always now after that. Even she would beat him. They would hunt him down, and beat him when they found him.
"I wish we had," he replied. "Our main gas tank is punctured." An expression of alarm crossed the detective's face. "Is it injured badly?" he asked. "I don't know yet. McCready says that the gauge is dropping pretty rapidly. I'm going to go out and see what I can do." "Can't I go, Doctor? I'm a good deal lighter than you are."
It's hand to hand, Carnesy, old dear. I wonder where McCready is." The Russians approached slowly, keeping their lines straight. They were within two hundred yards of the knoll. Suddenly from a point a hundred yards to the left of the end of the land came a rattle of fire. The attacking line dropped in a pile of grotesque heaps. "It's McCready!" shouted Carnes.
"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.
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