The animal came directly to her feet and lay down, acting in a very strange manner. His head was covered plentifully with clotted blood, showing the girl that he was suffering from a severe wound.
Lying upon the ground, he looked her in the face and whined in a piteous manner.
“Poor dog,” said Azurma. “What has become of your master? Is he dead? If not, take me to him.”
She waved her hand for the dog to get up and lead the way.
He seemed to comprehend her meaning, but acted in a dazed sort of way.
Running away from her for about fifty yards, he suddenly turned and made a circle, and then rolled over and over upon the ground.
Instead of being frightened at these strange actions, Azurma became interested.
Instinct told her that something unusual ailed the dog.
She made up her mind to find out what it was, if possible.
Quickly making her way to his side, she talked to him in a soothing manner, and then proceeded to examine the wound on his head.