The dog was matured, of almost stern aloofness, and manifestly not used to people.

His deep, wine-dark eyes seemed to search Helen's soul.

They were honest and wise, with a strange sadness.
"He looks intelligent," observed Helen, as she smoothed the long, dark ears.
"That hound is nigh human," responded Dale.

"Come, an' while you eat I'll tell you about Pedro." Dale had gotten the hound as a pup from a Mexican sheep-herder who claimed he was part California bloodhound.

He grew up, becoming attached to Dale.