Once she moved a little
to one side and Vic caught the glint of two eyes, red-stained, which were
fixed undeviatingly upon her face. Mixed with Vic's alarm at the great
fighting beast was a peculiar uneasiness, for there was something uncanny
in the determination, the fearlessness of this infant. When she stepped
away the wolf-dog stood trembling visibly but his eyes were still not upon
the man he hated or feared to approach but upon the child's face.
"Can you pat him now?" she asked, not for an instant turning to Gregg.
"No, but it's close enough," he assured her. "I don't want him any closer."
"He's got to come." She stamped. "Bart, you come here!"
He flinched forward, an inch. "Bart!" Her hands were clenched and her
little body quivered with resolution; the snake-like head came to the very
edge of the bed.
"Now pat him!" she commanded.
By very unpleasant degrees, Vic stretched his hand towards that growling
menace.
"He'll take my arm off," he complained. Shame kept him from utterly
refusing the risk.
"He won't bite you one bit," declared the child.
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