It was the Airedale puppy which he had left curled up all night at the foot of his bed.

The scent of the meat now had awakened him, and he was begging his new master for attention.
Sim leaned down stiffly to pat him on the head, gave him a bit of food.
Then he bethought him of the sack of fowls which he had entirely forgotten--found them luckily still alive in the wagon bed, cut off the sacking around them, and drove them out into the open to shift for themselves as best they might.

But the little dog would not be cast off.

He followed Sim wherever he went, licked his hand.

That made him think how She would have petted the puppy had She been there.