y working by formula, tightened the safe grip on the scruff of
Michael's neck and lifted him clear of the floor, at the same time, with
the other hand, directing the stream of water into his mouth and
increasing it to full force by the nozzle control. Michael fought, and
was well drowned for his pains, until he gasped and strangled helplessly.

After that he resisted no more, and was washed out and scrubbed out and
cleansed out with the hose, a big bristly brush, and much carbolic soap,
the lather of which got into and stung his eyes and nose, causing him to
weep copiously and sneeze violently. Apprehensive of what might at any
moment happen to him, but by this time aware that the youth was neither
positive nor negative for kindness or harm, Michael continued to endure
without further battling, until, clean and comfortable, he was put away
into a pen, sweet and wholesome, where he slept and for the time being
forgot. The place was the hospital, or segregation ward, and a week of
imprisonment was spent therein, in which nothing happened in the way of
development of germ diseases, and nothing happened to him except regular
good food, pure drinking-water, and absolute isolation from contact with
all life save the youth-god who, like an automaton, attended on him.

Michael had yet to meet Harris Collins, although, from a distance, often
he heard his voice, not loud, but very imperative. That the owner of
this voice was a high god, Michael knew from the first sound of it. Only
a high god, a master over ordinary gods, could be so imperative. Will
was in that voice, and accustomedness to command. Any dog would have so
decided as quickly as Michael did. And any dog would have decided that
there was no love nor lovableness in the god behind the voice, nothing to
warm one's heart nor to adore.

CHAPTER XXV

It was at eleven in the morning that the pale youth-god put collar and
chain on Michael, led him out of the segregation ward, and turned him
over to a dark youth-god who wasted no time of greeting on him and
manifested no friendliness. A captive at the end of a chain, on the way
Michael quickly encountered other captives going in his direction. There
were three of them, and never had he seen the like. Three slouching,
ambling monsters of bears they were, and at sight of them Michael
bristled and uttered the lowest of growls; for he knew them, out of his
heredity (as a domestic cow knows her first wolf), as