“To—to—whom,” I gasped, for to have the man actually confess an alliance with Satan rather startled me also.
The Wild Hunter chuckled in an amused manner.
“Thanks to Pluto, I said. But Pluto is that black wolf-dog over there, nevertheless. I think that the name ‘Pluto’ fits his character to a nicety.”
He pointed to the massive, deep-chested, long-haired, long-limbed, vicious looking leader of his black wolf pack where it was chained to a post. The great animal glared at his master when his name was mentioned. He crouched twenty feet away with his slanting green eyes fixed constantly on his master’s face and in them ever flared a fierce, wicked fire.
“Yes, you son of Satan, you and your hybrid whelps have helped me do all this in spite of the fact that you hate me, and would love to tear me limb from limb. You splendid, ugly brute, you are insensible to kindness!”
I noticed that whenever he looked the wolf in the face his own countenance became grim and his eyes exceedingly fierce and not unlike the wolf itself in expression.
“I think the name ‘Pluto’ fits his character to a nicety”