"That ain't any wolf.

Look at him now!" The big, shaggy animal had slunk to the feet of his master and with head abased stared furtively up into Barry's face.

A gesture served as sufficient command, and he slipped shadow-like into the corner and crouched with his head on his paws and the incandescent green of his eyes glimmering; Barry sat down in a chair nearby.
O'Brien was happily spinning bottles and glasses the length of the bar; there was the chiming of glass and the rumble of contented voices.
"Red-eye all 'round," said the loud voice of Jerry Strann, "but there's one out.

Who's out?
Oh, it's _him_.

Hey O'Brien, lemonade for the lady." It brought a laugh, a deep, good-natured laugh, and then a chorus of mockery; but Barry stepped unconfused to the bar, accepted the glass of lemonade, and when the others downed their fire-water, he sipped his drink thoughtfully.