kinship just the same. Oh, no, not sentimental kinship. It was, rather,
a kinship of equality. Those eyes never pleaded like a deer's eyes. They
challenged. No, it wasn't defiance. It was just a calm assumption of
equality. And I don't think it was deliberate. My belief is that it was
unconscious on his part. It was there because it was there, and it
couldn't help shining out. No, I don't mean shine. It didn't shine; it
_moved_. I know I'm talking rot, but if you'd looked into that animal's
eyes the way I have, you'd understand. Steve was affected the same way I
was. Why, I tried to kill that Spot once--he was no good for anything;
and I fell down on it. I led him out into the brush, and he came along
slow and unwilling. He knew what was going on. I stopped in a likely
place, put my foot on the rope, and pulled my big Colt's. And that dog
sat down and looked at me. I tell you he didn't plead. He just looked.
And I saw all kinds of incomprehensible things moving, yes, _moving_, in
those eyes of his. I didn't really see them move; I thought I saw them,
for, as I said before, I guess I only sensed them. And I want to tell
you right now that it got beyond me. It was like killing a man, a
conscious, brave man, who looked calmly into your gun as much as to say,
"Who's afraid?"

Then, too, the message seemed so near that, instead of pulling the
trigger quick, I stopped to see if I could catch the message. There it
was, right before me, glimmering all around in those eyes of his. And
then it was too late. I got scared. I was trembly all over, and my
stomach generated a nervous palpitation that made me seasick. I just sat
down and looked at the dog, and he looked at me, till I thought I was
going crazy. Do you want to know what I did? I threw down the gun and
ran back to camp with the fear of God in my heart. Steve laughed at me.
But I notice that Steve led Spot into the woods, a week later, for the
same purpose, and that Steve came back alone, and a little later Spot