ng!_ The Christ hid
his head finely nowadays! That cross up there on the mountain top, with
the sun gleaming on it--they had been right to put it up where no man
lived, and not even a dog roamed, to be pitied! "Fairy tales, fairy
tales," he thought; "those who drive and those who are driven, those
who eat and those who are eaten--we are all poor devils together. There
is no pity, no God!" And the flies drummed their wings above him. And
the sun, boring into his spine through his thin shirt, made him reach
for his jacket. There was the little dog, still, sitting on its base,
twenty yards away. It cowered and dropped its ears when he moved; and he
thought "Poor beast! Someone has been doing the devil's work on you, not
badly!" There were some biscuits in the pocket of his jacket, and he
held one out. The dog shivered, and its thin pink tongue lolled out,
panting with desire, and fear. Jean Liotard tossed the biscuit gently
about half way. The dog cowered back a step or two, crept forward three,
and again squatted. Then very gradually it crept up to the biscuit,
bolted it, and regained its distance. The soldier took out another. This
time he threw it five paces only in front of him. Again the little beast
cowered, slunk forward, seized the biscuit, devoured it; but this time
it only recoiled a pace or two, and seemed, with panting mouth and faint
wagging of the tail, to beg for more. Jean Liotard held a third biscuit
as far out in front of him as he could, and waited. The creature crept
forward and squatted just out of reach. There it sat, with saliva
dripping from its mouth; seemingly it could not make up its mind to
that awful venture. The soldier sat motionless; his outstretched hand
began to tire; but he did not budge--he meant to conquer its fear. At
last it snatched the biscuit. Jean Liotard instantly held out a fourth.
That too was snatched, but at the fifth he was able to touch the dog. It
cowered almost into the ground at touch of his fingers, and then lay,
still trembling violently, while the soldier continued to stroke its
head and ears. And suddenly his heart gave a twitter, the creature had
licked his hand. He took out his last biscuit, broke it up, and fed the
dog slowly with the bits, talking all the time; when the last crumb was
gone he continued to murmur and crumple its ears softly. He had become
aware of something happening within the dog--something in the nature of
conversion, as if it were saying: "O my