Two or three times the woman groaned, and Spotty pricked his ears wonderingly. Such sounds were unfamiliar. Jim watched him. The dog seemed half inclined to spring on the bed. Thinking better of it he settled down again with his eyes fixed as before.
A drowsy feeling crept over Jim. He was fearful of going to sleep. He had been sitting like a statue for the Lord knows how long and he had no idea of the time.
He listened. Not a sound, except a few melancholy notes from a passing bird. What was Glen doing all this time? He had promised to watch, but Glen had not promised to come back. Jim's mind was in a chaotic state, and he was hardly responsible for it.
Spotty pricked his ears. Jim accepted this as a sign that he heard something, and listened intently.
The dog gave a short, sharp bark, a true signal this time.
In his great sense of relief Jim stood up. He could bear the strain no longer.
Spotty flew at him, straight at his throat. Jim caught him with both hands and held him, the dog growling, snarling, trying to wrench himself free to bite his hands. Jim held on. He heard the hoof-beats. It was Glen returning and all would be well, but he was tired and cramped with the strain, and Spotty was a ferocious dog, and strong.
The woman moved and half sat up; then she sank back again. He was thankful.
Ping halted. Glen got out of the saddle with the precious burden and strode into the hut. Unstrung as he was, the sight that met his gaze caused him to drop the package. With a cry of despair he caught at it, just breaking its fall.
Spotty, seeing his master, ceased struggling. Jim let go his hold and fell on the floor in a dead faint.
"Get out," almost yelled Glen, and the dog shot through the opening like a fox bolting from hounds, dashing under Ping's belly and scouring across country at top speed. Yet he had only guarded his master's hut, and his doggy brain resented the injustice.
Glen opened the package before attending to Jim. There was no damage done, and he had never felt so like offering up a prayer before--supposing, after all, he had gone through, the precious bottles had broken? He knelt down beside Jim, summing up the situation, and wondering how long he had been subjected to the strain caused by the dog. Opening one of the bottles, he poured a small quantity down Jim's throat, being careful not to spill a drop.