"'The wand's wrack we share o't,
The warstie and the care o't.'

For it's you and I alane, lad." And the dog would trot up to him,
place his great forepaws on his shoulders, and stand thus with his
great head overtopping his master's, his ears back, and stump tail
vibrating.

You saw them at their best when thus together, displaying each his
one soft side to the other.

From the very first David and Red Wull were open enemies: under
the circumstances, indeed, nothing else was possible. Sometimes
the great dog would follow on the lad's heels with surly, greedy
eyes, never leaving him from sunrise to sundown, till David could
hardly hold his hands.

So matters went on for a never-ending year. Then there came a
climax.

One evening, on a day throughout which Red Wull had dogged
him thus hungrily, David, his work finished, went to pick up his
coat, which he had left hard by. On it lay Red Wull.

"Git off ma coat!" the boy ordered angrily. marching up. But the
great dog never stirred: he lifted a lip to show a fence of white,
even teeth, and seemed to sink lower in the ground; his head on
his paws, his eyes in his forehead.

"Come and take it!" he seemed to say.