his own loneliness and brought an unexpected whine to his throat. The girl, hearing it, knew he was still near and resumed her coaxing.
“I knew it must be you,” she said. “Come, Flash. Come on up to me, Flash,” she begged.
Ancestral strains waged grim conflict for the possession of his soul. The ancient heritage of dog to be the slave of man clashed with the wolf urge to be away from all this and back to the free hills. Lured on by the magic spell of a woman’s voice the spirit of the dog crept forward, dragging with it the protesting flesh of the wolf. Inch by inch he neared her until at last she touched him.
At the touch of her fingers he was once more the dog, the wild in him subservient to the tame, and he fawned upon her, whining with eagerness.
The girl threw her arms about him and drew him close.
“Don’t run off like you did that other time,” she begged, “Stay with me, Flash. I couldn’t live through another night alone. Stay with me, won’t you, Flash?”
The note of appeal in her voice was more urgent than any other sound he had ever heard. His craving for companionship had found an answering need in the girl.
