About the walls were a number of flaming torches stuck
in holes in a clay plaster which evidently served the purpose of
preventing the inflammable wood and grasses of which the hut was
composed from being ignited by the flames. Lying about among the
warriors or wandering restlessly to and fro were a number of savage
dogs.
The warriors eyed me curiously as I entered, especially the Galus,
and then I was conducted into the center of the group and led forward
toward Al-tan. As I advanced I felt one of the dogs sniffing at
my heels, and of a sudden a great brute leaped upon my back. As
I turned to thrust it aside before its fangs found a hold upon me,
I beheld a huge Airedale leaping frantically about me. The grinning
jaws, the half-closed eyes, the back-laid ears spoke to me louder
than might the words of man that here was no savage enemy but
a joyous friend, and then I recognized him, and fell to one knee
and put my arms about his neck while he whined and cried with joy.
It was Nobs, dear old Nobs. Bowen Tyler's Nobs, who had loved me
next to his master.
"Where is the master of this dog?" I asked, turning toward Al-tan.
The chieftain inclined his head toward the Galu standing at his
side. "He belongs to Du-seen the Galu," he replied.
"He belongs to Bowen J. Tyler, Jr., of Santa Monica," I retorted,
"and I want to know where his master is.
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