Now the hunters called the dog. He was a sorry-looking object,
pawing at his muzzle, first with one foot, then another, trying
to unswallow the quills in his tongue, blinking hard, uttering
little painful grunts and whines as he rubbed his head upon the
ground or on his forelegs. Rolf held him while Quonab, with a
sharp jerk, brought out quill after quill. Thirty or forty of
the poisonous little daggers were plucked from his trembling
legs, head, face, and nostrils, but the dreadful ones were those
in his lips and tongue. Already they were deeply sunk in the
soft, quivering flesh. One by one those in the lips were with-
drawn by the strong fingers of the red man, and Skookum whimpered
a little, but he shrieked outright when those in the tongue were
removed. Rolf had hard work to hold him, and any one not knowing
the case might have thought that the two men were deliberately
holding the dog to administer the most cruel torture.
But none of the quills had sunk very deep. All were got out at
last and the little dog set free.
Now Rolf thought of vengeance on the quill-pig snugly sitting in
the tree near by.
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