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Show 82 "No one." "Then hurry." Gast took the lead walking onto Walther's land. There were two small outbuildings beside the house, one of them a decrepit goat-pen and the other a makeshift bam with wide spaces between its timbers. "He will no doubt have his grain stored in there," Gast said, pointing to the bam. "If he has much grain at all," I answered. "He's too old to carry it to the miller himself, so I suppose he hires a cart to take whatever he needs ground into flour." We had come to within a dozen paces of the barn when a large black dog leapt up and began to bark and snarl. Gast stopped quickly and threw out an arm to keep me from advancing. The dog looked hungry, vicious, and dangerous. A rope around its neck was fastened to a tree growing next to the bam, and the rope was long enough that we could not enter the barn from any side without the dog being able to reach us, "Wait here," Gast said to me. He started slowly toward the watchdog, which yelped and barked with a hideous noise, showing long, sharp teeth. "Don't, Gast, he's mean!" I cried out. "Look at him. If you get close he'll tear you apart!" Gast paid me no attention. He spoke softly to the dog in words I could not understand, holding out his hand as he shortened the distance between them. All the while the dog was slavering and hurling itself against the rope in a frenzy. I held my breath in |