"And this here old dog," he continued, touching Tally’s upturned nose with his knotted fingers, "this here old dog has followed me for—for ten years; through floods and droughts, through fair times and—and hard—mostly hard! and kept me from going mad when I had no mate nor money on the lonely track; and watched over me for weeks when I was drunk drugged and poisoned at the cursed shanties; and saved my life more’n once, and got kicks and curses very often for thanks; and forgave me for it all; and—and fought for me. He was the only living thing that stood up for me against that crawling push of curs when they set onto me at the shanty back yonder—and he left his mark on some of ’em too; and—and so did I."
He took another spell.
Then he drew in his breath, shut his teeth hard, shouldered his swag, stepped into the doorway, and faced round again.