The fanfare of barking, a quarter-mile below, changed his intent.

A true dogman knows his dog's bark,--and its every shade of meaning,--as well as though it were human speech.

From the manner wherewith Lad had given tongue, the Master knew he had cornered or treed something quite out of the common.

Catching up his rifle, he made for the direction of the bark; running at top speed.
The bear put an end to the moment of hesitancy.

Lunging forward, he raked at the crouching collie, with one of his murderous claws; in a gesture designed to gather the impudent dog into his death-embrace.
Now, even from humans, except only the Mistress and the Master, Lad detested patting or handling of any kind.