All the gods started up the steps to enter the house. White Fang followed closely at the master’s heels. d**k, on the porch, growled, and White Fang, on the steps, bristled and growled back.
“Take Collie inside and leave the two of them to fight it out,” suggested Scott’s father. “After that they’ll be friends.”
“Then White Fang, to show his friendship, will have to be chief mourner at the funeral,” laughed the master.
The elder Scott looked incredulously, first at White Fang, then at d**k, and finally at his son.
“You mean . . .?”
Weedon nodded his head. “I mean just that. You’d have a dead d**k inside one minute—two minutes at the farthest.”
He turned to White Fang. “Come on, you wolf. It’s you that’ll have to come inside.”
White Fang walked stiff-legged up the steps and ac
