The dog followed his actions with a dumb pathetic glance, and then slowly struggled to its feet. It stood looking up at Gray, lifting one paw towards him with an indescribable air of supplication in its whole attitude. Then it turned, and began to move in the direction it had come from, looking round at every painful step to see if Gray would follow.
A rush of pitiful feeling swept over Gray. He ran back towards the hut with one thought uppermost in his mind, to get his horse and go with the dog. Everything else was forgotten. When he had run a short distance he looked round at Watch and whistled. The dog was lying on the grass regarding him, but it refused to come at his whistle.
Gray stood still, and began to argue with himself. It was absurd to start at once. Watch would die on the way. It would be far better to wait for some hours till the poor creature was rested. Harding, in all probability, was already dead. Still he would go—of course he would go; but not just yet. It would be the height of absurdity to start just now. He would fetch Watch some water and food where it lay, if he could not get the dog to go back to the hut.
He whistled again, but Watch made no response. It lay with its head between its paws, and its eyes still fixed on Gray.
"Stay there, then," muttered he impatiently, and went on towards the hut. The dog was still lying in the same place when he brought the food and water for it. It ate and drank greedily, and then rose and shook itself with a glad, eager movement, and ran a few steps forward. It was pitiful to see the change that went over the dog when on turning its head it saw that Gray was walking steadily back towards the hut. It lay down again, and gave a series of short barks and then a long pitiful howl when it found that Gray still went steadily on.
Gray did not turn round this time. He went into the hut, and sat down to think the matter over. What was the use of going with the dog at all? he began to say to himself. Would it not be better to go over to the station at once? or, better still, go later on in the day, so as to reach the station in the evening when the men would have come in from their work? Yet—was not every moment precious? If he went at once with the dog, might he not be in time?
He sat thus, swaying to and fro between different decisions, till a violent scratching at the door roused him. He got up and flung back the door. Watch stood there with drooping tail, and eyes full of dumb entreaty. Gray shut the door sharply on him. "Lie down, sir!" he exclaimed imperatively. The sight of the dog filled him with rage. Watch whined once or twice; but then came silence.
Gray sat down again at the table. "I will not go," he said to himself. And he put the thought of Harding from him, and tried to plan how he would carry out his scheme. But suddenly, before he was aware, a wave of remorseful shame came over him, and he sprang to his feet as one awaking from some hideous dream. He grasped his whip and hurried to the door; but,—
The dog was gone.