His white fangs gleamed in the firelight.

His ears were flat.

He wanted to sink his teeth in the red throat where he had already drawn blood.
The stick fell.

It fell again and again, and when McTaggart was done, Baree lay half stunned, his eyes partly closed by the blows, and his mouth bleeding.
"That's the way we take the devil out of a wild dog," snarled McTaggart.

"I guess you won't try the biting game again, eh, youngster?
A thousand devils--but you went almost to the bone of this hand!" He began washing the wound again.