stling back curved for the leap, and
white fangs flashing.

"Too sulky to eat it, but mighty concerned when he thought I was
goin' to take his meat from him," commented the Professor, in
explanation to Sam. As a matter of fact, Finn had not thought of
the meat. His present feeling was that he had fallen among a lot of
mad wild beasts, some of whom, by curious chance, had the
appearance of men folk. If one among them should lift an iron bar,
and more especially if the maddest and most hated among them, the
Professor, should lift the bar, why then, as Finn saw it, his one
chance for life was to fight; to strike hard and swiftly.

"We'll have to keep these two always caged together," said the
Professor, with a careless glance at Finn and the tiger. "Old
Killer works him up in great style. I guess he'll fetch the public
all the time, while he can hear old Killer at his antics. He
certainly is the finest-lookin' beast I ever saw in the wolf line,
and he's as strong and heavy as a horse. I guess your number would
'ave been up for sure, Sam, if you'd been in my shoes a while back,
when he got me down. What I don't like about the beggar is you
can't reckon on him; he don't seem to have the same ways as most of
'em. He don't fly at ye right away; he doesn't even jump for his
grub, you see. He seems to lie back an' consider. It's a bad thing
that, for he's hefty enough, anyway, without stopping to think out
his wickedness like a man. He's goin' to be a rough, hard case to
tame, Sam, that Giant Wolf of yours; but he's come to a hard-case
tamer, too, and don't you forget it. He's got to bend or break, and
you can gamble clear down to the butt of your sack on that, my son.
Come on now, and I'll show you how the others are fed. Just fill
old Killer's water-dish first."

It was now thirty hours since Finn had tasted food, and three days
since he had eaten a proper meal. If his experiences of the past
four-and-twenty hours had been in every other respect distressing,
they had at least robbed him of grief about the Master. His
outraged physical senses, and the tremendous strain placed upon his
nervous system, effectually shut grief out from his mind. Finn was
accustomed to have meals served to him in spotless enamelled
dishes, and it had always been food of which a man might have
partaken: well-cooked meats, bread, vegetables, and gravy, nicely
cut and mixed. Now for a long time the condition of passionate
protest and irritability