“No! No! No!” the dog yelled.
The fox, however went on. “You turncoat ... you defector!” His lacerated body became stiff with hatred and contempt. “You’re just His henchman,” he hissed. “You miserable ... you seek us out where He couldn’t find us ... you persecute us in places that He can’t get to ... you turn us in ..., and all of us are your relatives ... you turn me in, and you and I are nearly brothers ... and you just stand there ...are you not ashamed of yourself?”
Suddenly many loud, new voices were heard around them.
“Traitor!” called the magpies from the trees.
“Henchman!” screeched the jays.
“Miserable!” squealed the weasel.
“Defector!” spat the polecat.
Shrill hisses and screeches came out from all the trees and bushes, and from the air came the screeching of the crows, “henchman!” All had hurried close, all had listened to the quarrel from the trees above or from a safe hiding place on the ground. The disgust expressed by the fox released the old, bitter disgust that they all felt, and the blood steaming in sight of them on the snow made them furious and made them lose all their reserve.
The dog looked around him. “You!” he called. “What do you want? What do you know about it? What are you talking about? All o’ you belong to ‘Im, just like I belong to ‘Im! But me ... well I love ‘Im, I pray to ‘Im! I serve ‘Im! But you, you don’t know that ‘E’s in charge ‘ere. You’re pitiful you are, you can’t rebel against ‘Im? ‘E’s the almighty! ‘E’s above all of us! Ev’rything you’ve got comes from ‘Im! E’vrything that grows and lives, it all comes from ‘Im.” The dog was shaking in his outrage.
“Traitor!” the squirrel screamed.