“Hullo, here!” cried Dallas. “Where’s your master?”
The dog looked at him intelligently, then opened its mouth and howled.
“Come along, then. Seek, seek.”
The young man made for the door as if to open it, but the dog crept closer to the fire, crouched down, and howled more dismally than before.
“Well, come and find him, then. Your master. Here, here! Come along.”
The dog lifted its head, looked at the glowing fire, and then at first one and then the other, howled again, and made an effort to raise itself, but fell over.
“What’s he mean by that, poor brute? He’s as weak as a rat. What is it, then, old fellow?” cried Dallas, bending down to pat him. “Why, the poor brute’s a mere skeleton.”
The dog howled once more, struggled up, and fell over sideways.
“He doesn’t act as if any one was with him,” said Abel.
The dog howled again, made a fresh effort, and this time managed to sit up on his hindquarters, and drooped his fore-paws, opening his great mouth and lolling out the curled-up tongue.