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squealed.
    Carola had shrunk away, eyes bulging. ‘Keep still!’ she hissed. ‘It’s a wolf!’
    â€˜It is not,’ laughed Fanny, and put out a friendly hand. ‘Hello, boy. What brings you here?’
    â€˜Fanny! Have you lost your senses?’
    â€˜This is exactly like a dog we had in our party – Melchior was his name. It could even be his son, the likeness is so great. But this lad is larger by half a foot. Far larger than a wolf, I would guess.’ She fondled the coarse neck fur and then offered the animal a nugget of bread. Recalling an accident to her small sister’s hand when just such an offering was made, she took care to toss the morsel the final few inches. The great mouth opened and snapped shut and the bread was gone. The broad tail wagged slowly.
    â€˜I come from a family of dog lovers,’ said Fanny. ‘Though I made as if I thought them a trial. My sister Lizzie has a bitch – at least, I suppose she has her yet. There were pups, sired by the great Melchior. We all watched over them, and took delight in their games.’ The nostalgia for those last months on the trail took her by surprise. She could not recall saying a word of approval for Lizzie’s dogs at the time. But now she remembered them with a painful fondness. ‘I would dearly love to have a dog of my own,’ she murmured.
    â€˜Impossible,’ snapped Carola. ‘We have no space, and a monster such as this would require a deal of feeding.’
    â€˜I understand that,’ said Fanny reluctantly. ‘Besides, he no doubt has an owner somewhere already. His condition is good.’
    The dog flopped down at her side, lolling his huge head on her legs, tongue hanging out. He raised a paw as if for her inspection. ‘Oh, my! See this!’ Fanny cried. ‘His claw is torn almost off.’ She bent to look closer. ‘And his pads are bleeding. This dog has been walking for miles when he wasn’t used to it. He must be very far from home.’
    Carola merely hummed in vague concern and maintained a careful distance. Then she looked at the sky and announced they should get back because there were clouds approaching.
    Fanny was not surprised in the least when the dog followed them. She admitted to herself that she had hoped he would do just that. Already she was conscious of a relationship, an exchange of trust and goodwill that would inevitably form a bond that neither would easily break. Carola repeatedly turned and shouted at him to go away. He would pause and hang back for a minute, only to limp on when he deemed it safe. Fanny was distraught at his suffering feet, determined to bathe and dress them at the first opportunity.
    The idea dawned swiftly, from one moment to the next. ‘He will keep us safe!’ she proclaimed. ‘We can teach him to attack any man who threatens us harm.’
    Carola had reacted as if her friend were insane from her first overtures to the animal. ‘Teach him?’ she echoed, as if Fanny had suggested the dog be used as their cook and medical attendant.
    â€˜He seems to have a full complement of wits. Unlike Melchior,’ Fanny added with a laugh. Her spirits had lifted immensely in the past hour. ‘Let me try it,’ she insisted. ‘What can we lose by it?’
    For the first time since the appearance of the dog, Fanny took a look at her friend’s face. It was red and tight. ‘Carrie? What is it?’
    â€˜I will not have a dog in the house. I cannot abide them. Send it away.’
    Fanny stood still. ‘Cannot abide dogs? For what reason?’
    â€˜They smell. They slaver and drool. They
need
so much.’
    Fanny smiled. ‘Poor reasons. I expected you to tell me of some savage bite when you were six.’
    Carola shook her head. ‘My mother had a lap dog. Some Chinese thing, with long hair and no nose. She loved it more than she loved her own children. It made me sick. Every