Білий ікол
The Call of Kind
WhiteFangwasdisinclinedtodeserthim. Themasterthoughtofwritinganote,butsearchedhispocketsvainlyforpencilandpaper. AgainhecommandedWhiteFangtogohome.
Thelatterregardedhimwistfully,startedaway,thenreturnedandwhinedsoftly. Themastertalkedtohimgentlybutseriously,andhecockedhisears,andlistenedwithpainfulintentness.
"That’sallright,oldfellow,youjustrunalonghome,"ranthetalk. "Goonhomeandtellthemwhat’shappenedtome. Homewithyou,youwolf.Getalonghome!"
WhiteFangknewthemeaningof"home,"andthoughhedidnotunderstandtheremainderofthemaster’slanguage,heknewitwashiswillthatheshouldgohome. Heturnedandtrottedreluctantlyaway. Thenhestopped,undecided,andlookedbackoverhisshoulder.
"Gohome!"camethesharpcommand,andthistimeheobeyed.
Thefamilywasontheporch,takingthecooloftheafternoon,whenWhiteFangarrived. Hecameinamongthem,panting,coveredwithdust.
"Weedon’sback,"Weedon’smotherannounced.
ThechildrenwelcomedWhiteFangwithgladcriesandrantomeethim. Heavoidedthemandpasseddowntheporch,buttheycorneredhimagainstarocking-chairandtherailing. Hegrowledandtriedtopushbythem. Theirmotherlookedapprehensivelyintheirdirection.
"Iconfess,hemakesmenervousaroundthechildren,"shesaid. "Ihaveadreadthathewillturnuponthemunexpectedlysomeday."
