One knows he is right --
that braces him up; the other knows he is wrong -- and that
weakens him." Those were the Indian's views, expressed much less
connectedly than here given, and they led Rolf on to a train of
thought. He remembered a case that was much to the point.
Their little dog Skookum several times had been worsted by the
dog on the Horton farm, when, following his master, he had come
into the house yard. There was no question that the Horton dog
was stronger. But Skookum had buried a bone under some brushes
by the plain and next day the hated Horton dog appeared. Skookum
watched him with suspicion and fear, until it was no longer
doubtful that the enemy had smelled the hidden food and was going
for it. Then Skookum, braced up by some instinctive feeling,
rushed forward with bristling mane and gleaming teeth, stood over
his cache, and said in plainest dog, "You can't touch that while
I live!"
And the Horton dog -- accustomed to domineer over the small
yellow cur -- growled contemptuously, scratched with his hind
feet, smelled around an adjoining bush, and pretending not to see
or notice, went off in another direction.
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