Bart obeyed, slowly, but his evil eyes were fixed upwards upon the head of Satan.
“If you got any manners,” remarked Dan, “you'll be sayin' that you're sorry.”
The ears flattened along the snaky head; otherwise no answer.
“Sorry!” repeated the master.
Out of the deep throat of Black Bart, infinitely, ludicrously small, came a whine which was more doglike than anything Joan had ever heard, before, from the wolf.
“Now,” continued the implacable master, “you go over in that corner, and lie down.”
Black Bart arose with a finally ugly look for Satan and sneaked with hanging head and tail to the outer edge of the circle of light.
“Farther! Clear over there in the dark,” came the order, and Bart had to uncoil himself again in the very act of lying down and retreat with another ominous growl clear into the darkness. Satan held his head high and watched triumphantly.
But Joan felt that this was a little hard on Bart; she wanted to run over and comfort him, but she knew from of old that it was dangerous to interfere where Daddy Dan was disciplining either horse or wolf; besides, she was not quite free from her new awe for Bart.
“All right,” said the master presently, and without raising his voice.
It brought a dark thunder bolt rushing into the circle
