That shock kept The Ghost from grinding his jaws together and ruining the good right hand of Bull Hunter forever. The man knew that only by a hair’s breadth had he escaped catastrophe. His left hand still stroked the back of the wild beast; his right hand still lay on the wound; his eyes still held the eyes of the brute. The neck muscles of The Ghost slowly loosened, his teeth relaxed, his head fell back into its former position, and he waited. Bull Hunter looked at the double row of little white indentations across the back of his hand. From one pinhead puncture a tiny, tiny trickle was oozing. That escape had been close indeed, for if the wolf has tasted Even big-hearted Bull Hunter trembled, for he knew that only a man can forgive bloodshed. To the wild ones the sight of it, the taste of it, is the signal for the death-battle.
He went on with his work with a strange peace in his heart, and a sort of childish happiness, for indeed, only a child would have been capable of that pure and calm exaltation of the spirit which came to Bull Hunter in his great moments, and this was one of them. A wild beast had submitted to the power of hand and voice and eye. He felt that he was doing with kindness what all the speed and teeth and guns in the party of the chase had been unable to accomplish.
As to The Ghost, he was infinitely amazed at himself; a little afraid, too, because he had not closed those teeth of his when the occasion presented itself.
Chapter VII
A Real Friend
The treatment of the second wound was the same torture - first a new opening of the wound and then the application of the cold liquid like water which presently turned into intense fire. Twice The Ghost came within an ace of turning his head to bite. Twice he fought back the impulse and waited, for now the pain never grew so great that he was unaware of the voice, and from time to time that slow hand went down his back, and the finger tips left the little electric trails of pleasure behind them. His patience was threefold rewarded, before the end. The pain ceased even more quickly than that of the hind led, and here, as in the leg, there was the flush of comfort, and the pleasant sense of healing begun.
The work went on. For every slash on head and body that process was repeated. When it was over, The Ghost was weak from the many pains; but he was warm with comfort, and still he waited, with his head stretched on the hard floor - waited for what might be coming to him from this man of many mysteries.
Other things happened, now, in swift succession. First, metal clanked, and then a weight of it encircled his neck. The collaring was something new. The smell of the iron, with the man-scent on it, made him tremble a little, but after all it was a small thing compared to much that he had gone through this day of days.
The next marvel was the severing of the rope which bound his feet. The cords had been drawn so tight that the feet were numb for lack of blood, and, while the blood began to circulate again, tingling, The Ghost wondered.
Outside, the wind was rising. It would blow a gale this night, and a chill gale, at that. A dry, sharp, cold wind, The Ghost knew at once - a terrible night for wounds! How could he keep warm if he had to lie here moveless, on the cold wood?
But the work of the man was by no means done. Presently The Ghost heard a sharp rattle of metal. He looked askance. A thing of metal stood in the corner of the room. He eyed the engine quietly, waiting. Perhaps it would waken to life before long. No, it was obviously man-made, rank with the scent of man, as were all things in this cabin; not only the scent of the big man, but of another. The Ghost bared his teeth at the very thought.
The big man was gone through the door, and, left alone in the cabin, The Ghost became uneasy. The scent of the second man was doubly strong now, and from the outside of the cabin came the clear odors where the hounds of the pack had walked and sniffed at the ground. He was more and more troubled. At length he hitched himself into a crouching position, leaning his hindquarters somewhat against the wall of the shack so that the weight was taken completely from his wounded rear leg. This accomplished, he waited for what should happen, more reassured now that he was in a position of some defense. The iron thing around his neck, he now discovered, was hitched to a place in the wall with a flexible rope, of iron, also. He tried it with his teeth at once and discovered that not only was the taste unpleasant to a degree, but the hardness of the iron made his jaws ache from the pressure.
At this point the big man came again through the door, shut out the wind, and deposited on the floor some dry wood sweet with the smell of resin. Then he took paper, crackling more than dry leaves under the foot of a heavy bull, and put it in the stove, and presently a match hissed on the trousers of Hunter, and spurted into flame.
The Ghost winced toward the floor at that sight. Here was the most dreaded of all things - the playmate and helpmate of man. Here was the inanimate life which he had seen become terrible in the forest, red and huge and roaring with a voice louder than the roar of a hundred grizzlies. His pointed ears worked back and forth, and the hair prickled down his back as he saw it. Then the paper was lighted and flamed up.
He backed himself as far as possible against the wall. He began to understand the meaning of the chain. Perhaps the man had tied him there, helpless. Now he was setting fire to the shack and would leave it to burn with The Ghost.
Now wood was piled on the fire; presently the iron covers were replaced, and a roaring began up the chimney. That threatening voice filled the wolf with uneasiness. But the big man seemed full of cheer. As he walked to and fro through the cabin he spoke from time to time to The Ghost, and always his voice was as gentle as ever.
Suddenly the smell of food struck the nostrils of The Ghost, and he grew weak with hunger. Slaver filled his mouth. He gulped it down, and squinted at the face of Bull Hunter. Behold! Red meat, new killed, was under the hands of the man, was being divided, and now a generous portion was placed before The Ghost.
He looked straight over it at the man. Was the big creature a fool to think that he, The Ghost, who a thousand times had sniffed in contempt at man-handled meat with its promises of poison would now accept food which he had seen the hands of a man actually lift and put down?
Bull Hunter shoved the red meat nearer with his foot. The Ghost withdrew from it.
”All right,” said Bull, chuckling. “You’re a suspicious devil, old boy, but you’ll get used to these things after a while.”
He sat down on his heels and looked the big wolf in the face. That sudden lowering of his head to the level of The Ghost’s own eyes disturbed the latter. It overpowered him with man-presence, and yet the thrill of that nearness was not altogether unpleasant. The man was offering him the meat in his very hand!
A true wolf would never have touched that meat until he was on the verge of starving, and even then he might have chosen to starve rather than to eat. But the dog strain spoke strongly in The Ghost now in one of those rash impulses which overcame him occasionally. That impulse was to play with death, taste death in the very presence of him who might have poisoned the meat.
Cautiously, with his eyes on the face of the big man, he stretched out his head and with a sudden snap he sheered away a corner of the meat as though with a knife. Then he crouched back with his spoils, snarling terribly. But there was no blow, no anger, no attempt to wrench that stolen meat from his jaws. No, the meat went sweetly down into his stomach in one great gulp. No poison about that mouthful, at least. Perhaps another might be ventured at and stolen in safety.
But would this fool leave his meat still within range? Yes, it was unmoved; it was even shoved closer to him. The wolf looked up in vast wonder and beheld the man laughing! At that a great doubt and a great shame welled up in him.