Barry stepped away.
"Bart!" he called, and the shouting of the Asper was now so far away that he could be heard.

"Come round here, old boy, and stop botherin' him.

He's goin' to pull through." He leaned against a willow, his face suddenly old and white with something more than exhaustion, and laughed in such an oddly pitched, cracked tone that the wolf-dog slunk to him on his belly and licked the dangling hand.

He caught the scarred head of Bart and looked steadily down into the eyes of the wolf.
"It was a close call, Bart.

There wasn't more than half an inch between Satan and--" The black turned his head and whinnied feebly.
"Listen to him callin' for help like a new-foaled colt," said the master, and went to Satan.
The head of the stallion rested on his shoulder as they went slowly on.
"Tonight," said the master, "you get two pieces of pone without askin'." The cold nose of the jealous wolf-dog thrust against his left hind.