Leave-taking.
A few minutes after I saw how darkness and fancy can combine to startle one who wakes suddenly from sleep, for the man who had been Mr Raydon’s companion on the previous day suddenly made his appearance silently at the door and walked in, his deerskin moccasins making no sound as he came towards us. He was followed by a great fierce-looking dog, about whose neck was a formidable ruff of loose hair, and as he trotted towards me I saw in them the Indian and the wolf of my scare.
“Morning,” said the man, quietly; “needn’t ask you how you slept. I came in late to see if the fire was all right, and you were all fast. Here, Rough—quiet! Better make friends with him at once,” he continued, turning to me.
For, after sniffing at Gunson, and Esau, who got out of his way as soon as possible, the dog turned his attentions to me, smelling me all round, as if to try whether I was good to eat, and then uttering a low deep growl, to indicate, I suppose, that he was satisfied that I was a stranger.
“Well,” I said, laying my hand upon his head, feeling nervous though not showing it, “are we to be friends?”
There was a deeper growl, and two fierce eyes glared up at me, while I fully expected that my hand would be seized. Then there was a slight agitation of the great fluffy tail, which began to swing slowly from side to side, and before I knew what was about to happen the great beast rose up, planted its paws upon my shoulders, threw up its muzzle, and uttered a deep-toned bay.
“That’s all right,” said the man; “you and he will be good friends now. Can I do anything for you? Start this morning, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Gunson, “I’m off directly.”
“Right; my wife will bring you some breakfast.—Come along.”
He went to the door, and the great dog followed him with his muzzle down; but as soon as he was outside he ran back to me, thrust his great head against my side, uttered a loud bark, and then trotted off.