The two parted to come at Jeff from both sides. He looked longingly at a
club lying near the fire, and as though he had read Jeff's mind, the man
called Buff stood on the club. Jeff backed slowly toward the water. He
might lose the pack. But he intended to keep his money and he had no
intention of letting anyone work him over with a pick handle. As he
retreated, he felt with his feet for rocks, clubs, anything at all with
which to fight back. The two men advanced slowly, and Jeff risked a
backward glance to see himself within three paces of the water. There
was only sand beneath his feet.
At exactly that moment, the dog appeared.
He came slowly, with dignity, but uncertainly, because he was not sure
of a welcome. Neither was he able to restrain himself any longer. For
more than a half hour he had hidden in the grass, studying and entranced
by Jeff. Now he had to find out whether he was acceptable. He halted
four feet away, not caring to go any closer until he was sure.
Seeing him, Jeff saw his own salvation. He snapped his fingers and said,
"Well! Where have you been keeping yourself?"
The dog sighed ecstatically. For so very long he had sought someone and
now at last he had found him. He came forward to brush his shaggy back
against Jeff's thighs, and he looked up at the two men.
Huge, a wild and savage-appearing thing, even in the full light of day,
he was even more so by the fire's dancing glow. His eyes sparked. His
pendulous jowls seemed taut and strained, and though he regarded the two
men with suspicion only, neither could know that. They backed.
Jeff patted the big dog's head and said amiably, "Just my dog. Just my
little old dog. I need some help while I attend to the far-flung
business of Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd." His tone became slightly
reproachful and he said to the dog, "Here! Here! Don't bite them now!"
The two men scrambled up the embankment and disappeared.