"You believe, then," said Mercy, "we have a right to make the lower animals work?"
"I think it is our duty," answered Alister. "At all events, if we do not, we must either kill them off by degrees, or cede them this world, and emigrate. But even that would be a bad thing for my little bulls there! It is not so many years since the last wolf was killed—here, close by! and if the dogs turned to wolves again, where would they be? The domestic animals would then have wild beasts instead of men for their masters! To have the world a habitable one, man must rule."
"Men are nothing but tyrants to them!" said Christina.
"Most are, I admit."
Ere he could prevent her, she had walked up to the near bull, and begun to pat him. He poked a sharp wicked horn sideways at her, catching her cloak on it, and grazing her arm. She started back very white. Alister gave him a terrible tug. The beast shook his head, and began to paw the earth.
"It wont do to go near him," he said. "—But you needn't be afraid; he can't touch you. That iron band round his nose has spikes in it."
"Poor fellow!" said Christina; "it is no wonder he should be out of temper! It must hurt him dreadfully!"
"It does hurt him when he pulls against it, but not when he is quiet."
"I call it cruel!"
"I do not. The fellow knows what is wanted of him—just as well as any naughty child."