"Honey, come here and shake hands with your Uncle Buck." The gesture called forth deep throated warning from Bart, and he caught back his hand with a start.
"It's always that way," said Kate, half amused, half vexed; "Bart won't let a soul touch her when Dan isn't home.

Good old Bart, go away, you foolish dog! Don't you see these are friends ?" He cringed a little under the shadow of the hand which waved him off but his only answer was a silent baring of the teeth.
"You see how it is.

I'm almost afraid to touch her myself when Dan's away; she and Bart bully me all day long." In the meantime the glance of Joan had cloyed itself with sufficient examination of the strangers, and now she turned back towards the door and the meadow beyond.
"Bart!" she called softly.

The sharp ears of the dog quivered; he came to attention with a start.

"Look! Get it for me!" One loud scraping of his claws on the floor as he started, and Black Bart went like a bolt through the door with Joan scrambling after him, screaming with excitement; from the outside, they heard the cry of a frightened squirrel, and then its angry chattering from a place of safety up a tree.
"Shall I call her back again ?" asked Kate.
"Not if Bart comes with her," answered Lee Haines.