"I'm not much of a person to be with. Don't think I don't know it. I'm
mean and surly, and my temper's getting worse by the day. I can't
associate with people any more. But _you_ can. I was thinking maybe I'd
leave you--"
"No!" cried Mark.
"Not in an orphanage or anything like that. But I have some friends
whose kids are growing up--"
"No. I won't go. If you send me, I'll run away. I want to be with you."
"Okay," said Sam. "That's that."
But it wasn't, and he knew it. Even as he went about preparing his
traps, he knew it.
* * * * *
As it turned out, the only animals he caught in his traps were small
ones which tore themselves in two and then scampered off, each half
running in a different direction. For the animal which had made those
noises, no traps were necessary. Later on he heard a noise outside
again, and he went out cautiously, gun in hand. The animal backed away,
but he saw it, then he heard it bark. So did Mark, who had followed him.
Mark's eyes almost popped. It was four years since he had heard the
sound, but he knew at once what it was. "Gosh! A dog! How do you s'pose
he got here?"
"I don't know," said Sam. "Your guess is as good as mine."
"But if we're the first human beings to land here--it ain't possible!"
"I know that. But there he is."
At the sound of their voices, the dog broke into a series of furious
barks, backing away as it did so.
"What kind is he, Pop?"
"He looks like a mongrel to me. A bad-tempered, medium-sized mongrel
with an ugly look about him. Maybe I ought to shoot him and get it over
with."
"Shoot him? Don't do that! I want him as a pet."
"He looks too wild to make much of a pet."
The dog gave one last bark of defiance, turned, and fled in the same
general direction, Sam noticed, as he had run last time.
"Maybe dogs _do_ grow on other planets, Pop."
"Only if men have brought them there."
"Then that means there was a ship here?"
"At some time or other there was a ship. I don't think it was smashed
up, or I'd have seen wreckage when I cruised around before landing. That
dog was either left here by mistake, or deliberately marooned."
"Maybe--maybe he's with somebody who's still here."
"Not likely," said Sam thoughtfully. "He wanders around too freely, and
he seems unused to the presence of human beings. Besides, no men would
be likely to live here long without shelter. And I've seen no sign of
any house or hut."
"Could he belong to a being that wasn't human?"
"No," replied Sam with certainty. "Only human beings have been able to
domesticate dogs. If a dog is here, a human being was once here. That's
definite."
"He _would_ make a good pet," said Mark longingly.
"Not that one. Maybe I should have got you a dog long ago. It might have
been just the kind of companionship you needed. But you can't make a pet
of this animal. He's been away from people too long, and he's developed
some mean habits." And he added mentally, "_Like me._"
"I could train him," said Mark. "He wouldn't be any trouble at all, Pop.
I'd train him and feed him, and he'd be just like one of us. And--and
like you say, Pop, it wouldn't be so lonely for me."
Kids don't give up easily, thought Sam. All the same, he had an idea
that with this dog all the persistence in the world would be useless. He
shrugged, and said simply, "We'll see." And then they went into the ship
to eat.
* * * * *
All through the meal he could tell that Mark was thinking about the dog.
The boy's thoughts seemed to affect his appetite. For the first time,
he left some of his proteinex on the plate.
"I'm not very hungry today," he said apologetically. "Maybe--" He looked
inquiringly at his father.
"Go ahead and finish it," said Sam. "We've got plenty of food. I'll fix
up something else for the dog."
"But I want to feed him myself, Pop. I want him to get used to me
feeding him."
"I'll give you your chance later."
Afterwards, Sam thriftily opened an old can of a less expensive variety
of proteinex and put half of it on a platter, which Mark carried outside
the ship. He moved off about a hundred yards in the direction the dog
had taken, and set the platter down on a rock.
"The wind is blowing the wrong way," said Sam. "Let's wait a while."
* * * * *
In ten minutes the wind shifted, and if the dog was near, Sam felt
certain that he had picked up both their scent and that of the food.
That his feeling was correct was shown by the sudden appearance of the
animal, who barked again, but this time not so fiercely. And he stopped
barking to sniff hungrily, at the same time keeping his distance.
"Here, mutt," called Mark.
"I'm afraid he won't come any closer while we're around," said Sam. "If
you want him to have that food, you'd better go away from it."
Mark reluctantly backed away with his father. The dog approached the
food, finally rushing down upon it as if he feared it would escape, and
gobbled it.
In the days that followed, they continued to feed him, and the animal
became relatively tame. He stopped barking at them, and at times let
Mark come within a few feet of him. But he never allowed Mark to come
close enough to touch him, and he was especially wary of Sam. The latter
could see, however, that there was nothing around the smooth-furred
neck. The collar, if it had ever existed, had evidently been worn away.
"So we can't find out what his name is," said Mark in disappointment.
"Here, Prince, here, Spot, here, Rover--"
The animal answered to none of the traditional dog names, nor to several
of the newer ones that Mark recalled.
After the dog had been with them for a half hour or so he usually
trotted off in the direction of what they had come to consider his
lair.
"He doesn't seem to be getting tame enough for a pet," said Sam. "That's
one idea I'm afraid you'll have to give up."
"All he needs is a little more time," said Mark. "He's getting used to
me." Then a sudden fear struck him, and he added, "You're not going to
leave here yet, are you, Pop? I thought you wanted to catch some big
animals."
"There aren't any other big animals," replied Sam. "Just those small
ones who came apart in the traps, and they're not worth catching. But
I'll stay. This place is as good as any other. I won't leave it yet."
* * * * *
In fact, the stay on the planet, bleak as the place was, seemed to be
less unpleasant than cruising aimlessly through space. Mark had been
starved for companionship of someone besides his father, and in a way,
without making too many demands, the dog was a companion. Wondering
about the beast and trying to tame him gave them something with which to
occupy their minds. It had been several days, realized Sam, since he had
last snapped at Mark.
It had become quite certain now that there was no other human being
around. The dog's eagerness for the food showed that no one else had
taken care of him for a long time. Evidently he had been forced to feed
himself on the small and elusive native animals which he could run down.
One of the things that puzzled Sam was the dog's obvious anxiety to
leave the neighborhood of the ship after a short period and return to
his lair. And one day, driven by curiosity, Sam followed him, with Mark
coming along, too.
The dog had become sufficiently accustomed to them by now not to resent
their presence, and it was easy to keep him in sight. He led the way for
at least two miles, over rocky ground and past a small stream. Quite
unexpectedly he stopped and began to whine and sniff the ground. As Sam
and Mark approached, he turned on them, barking furiously.
The man and boy exchanged glances. "He's acting just like he did in the
beginning," said Mark.
"There's something in the ground," said Sam. "I'm going to find out what
it is." And he drew his gun.
"You're not going to kill him, Pop!"
"I'll just put him to sleep. An anaesthetic pellet of the kind I use for
trapping ought to do the trick."
But one pellet turned out to be not enough. It required the bursting of
three pellets before the animal finally trembled, came to a halt, and
with eyes glazed, fell over on the ground.
When they approached closer, Sam caught sight of half a dozen stones,
roughly piled together. He said, "Better get back, Mark. This may not be
pleasant."
"You think--you think somebody's buried here?"
"Very likely. I'm going to see."
* * * * *
Using a flat rock with a sharp edge as an improvised spade, he began to
dig. The ground was hard, and the rock was not the best of tools. It
took him half an hour to reach the first bone, and another half-hour to
uncover the rest.
Mark had come up behind him and was watching with no sign of revulsion.
He said, "I--I was afraid there might be a body, Pop."
"So was I. It looks as if the man died so long ago that everything else
has rotted away, except for a few metal clasps. No other sign of shoes
or clothes. And no indication of how this happened."
"You think he was the dog's master?"
"Evidently."
They both stared at the sleeping animal. Then Sam shrugged, and began to
fill the shallow grave again. Mark helped him push in the dirt and stamp
it down into place. Finally they moved the stones back.