The strength is gone from
his legs."
It seemed even as the little maid protested. Massive, silent,
contemptuous, his small eyes under the wolfish skull cold and alight
with a look that sent shuddering from him the timid,--thus he had been
in his hard-fought and hard-won supremacy, a great, mysterious beast
brought full-grown from the snowbound wilderness of the forest one
famine-time by old Aquamis and sold to Bois DesCaut for a tie of
tobacco.
Now he stood, a pitiable shadow, and begged mutely of the only tender
hand he had known for understanding of this strange weakness that took
his limbs and sent the heavens whirling.
McElroy looked long upon him.
"'Tis a shame," he said, his straight brows drawing together, "the dog
is a better brute than Bois."
"Aye," flashed Francette, talking as though it were no uncommon thing
for the factor to stop at the cabin of the Molines, "and no more shall
the one brute serve the other. You have said, M'sieu."
"Yes," laughed the factor, "I have said and it shall be so. I will buy
the dog from Bois if he speaks of the matter. Take good care of him,
little one," and McElroy turned down toward the gate.
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