eness of early
puppyhood, this had been Finn's attitude toward all humans,
including even the Master. He had liked the Master and the
Mistress; he had trusted them, and he had been deeply thankful to
find them again after his escapade with Matey; but it could hardly
have been said that he had loved them, in the sense, for example,
that his mother had loved the Master, or that he himself loved the
Master now; now that he would lie for hours on his bench, waiting,
watching, and listening for the sound of the footfall which he
easily distinguished from among the many that he heard. In short,
what had been no more than friendly affection and confidence, grew
now to personal attachment, to a feeling which could fairly be
called love, seeing that it comprised intense and jealous devotion,
and a contentedness which approached rapture, in the touch and
presence and society of one person. When they sat on the deck
together at night, the Master and Finn, under the gorgeous sky
which so often favours Pacific travellers by sea, the Wolfhound's
intercourse with the man stopped only just short of articulation,
and went far beyond the normal companionship of man and dog.

For instance, the Master would sometimes growl out low remarks to
Finn about the Old Country, about Tara, and the house beside the
Sussex Downs; and Finn understood practically every word he said on
those occasions. And then the Master might wind up by stroking his
head in a heavy, lingering way that Finn loved, and saying--

"Ah, well, Finn boy; there's other good places in the world, too.
The Australian bush is a mighty big hunting ground, I can tell you.
We'll have some good times there, Finn boy; rabbits, and wallabies,
and kangaroos, Finn; great sport for my big Wolfhound and me. And
maybe we'll get a good home together out there before long, old
man; might even strike it rich, somehow, and go back to the Downs
again, and do the thing in real solid style, my Finn, with big
kennels and half a score of hounds for you to lord it over!"

And at such times, Finn's inability to speak after the human
fashion was no particular bar between them. Understanding was so
clearly voiced in his dark, glistening eyes, in the eager thrust of
his wet, cool muzzle, and sometimes, for emphasis, in the
compelling weight of his great arm, as he laid it, with a pulling
pressure, over the Master's shoulder. In addition to all this, he
would occasionally whimper, or make low growling