Obedience was strong in him, for it was his heart's desire to serve his lord's will, and from the few days' confinement he sensed, or guessed, or divined, without thinking about it, that it was Steward's will for him to stay in the stateroom.
For a long time he sat down before the closed door, regarding it wistfully but being too wise to bark or speak to such inanimate object.
It had been part of his early puppyhood education to learn that only live things could be moved by plea or threat, and that while things not alive did move, as the door had moved, they never moved of themselves, and were deaf to anything life might have to say to them.

Occasionally he trotted down the short cross-hall upon which the stateroom opened, and gazed up and down the long hall that ran fore and aft.
For the better part of an hour he did this, returning always to the door that would not open.

Then he achieved a definite idea.

Since the door would not open, and since Steward and Kwaque did not return, he would go in search of them.

Once with this concept of action clear in his brain, without timidities of hesitation and irresolution, he trotted aft down the long hall.