It was a wonder to Alice that Mac hadn't done away with him already, judging from the comfort she derived from the dog. Dobie never fretted, never whined and seemed so appreciative of everything she did for him. She had scolded him for his killing but found herself unable to put her heart in it because he seemed to love it so. Instead, she always managed to clear any bones away before Mac returned from town or came up from the barn and she was thankful he seemed as yet unaware of the brown dog's hunting nature.
Now it appeared she'd have to cover up for the dog once again and she opened the door. Dobie was under a bush half way across the barn yard, his kill still in his mouth. He was circling around, and she knew he'd soon be on his stomach enjoying his feast.
"Dobie!" she called in a low voice, hoping it would not carry to the barn.
Dobie's ears came up. He looked her way.
"Dobie!... Come here, Dobie!"
The dog was undecided, looking at her, unmoving for a moment. Then his tail started flicking, he lowered his head and came up to her.
Then she saw what he had in his mouth and her blood stopped and only a great effort on the part of her heart started it going again.
It was a human hand, blood still oozing from the severed wrist.
"Dobie!"