With an effort he dragged himself to his feet, but fell back into the snow again.

The man leaned his rifle against a sapling and bent over him fearlessly.

With a fierce growl Kazan snapped at his extended hands.

To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club.

He held out his hand again--cautiously--and spoke in a voice new to Kazan.
The dog snapped again, and growled.
The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it.
Again and again the man reached out his hand, and three times Kazan felt the touch of it, and there was neither threat nor hurt in it.