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He
went
out
to
look
at
the
city
and
the
clouds
had
cleared
away
completely
,
and
he
lit
a
cigarette
and
came
back
to
bend
down
and
look
at
the
Hound
.
It
was
like
a
great
bee
come
home
from
some
field
where
the
honey
is
full
of
poison
wildness
,
of
insanity
and
nightmare
,
its
body
crammed
with
that
over-rich
nectar
and
now
it
was
sleeping
the
evil
out
of
itself
.
"
Hello
,
"
whispered
Montag
,
fascinated
as
always
with
the
dead
beast
,
the
living
beast
.
At
night
when
things
got
dull
,
which
was
every
night
,
the
men
slid
down
the
brass
poles
,
and
set
the
ticking
combinations
of
the
olfactory
system
of
the
Hound
and
let
loose
rats
in
the
firehouse
area-way
,
and
sometimes
chickens
,
and
sometimes
cats
that
would
have
to
be
drowned
anyway
,
and
there
would
be
betting
to
see
which
the
Hound
would
seize
first
.
The
animals
were
turned
loose
.
Three
seconds
later
the
game
was
done
,
the
rat
,
cat
,
or
chicken
caught
half
across
the
area-way
,
gripped
in
gentling
paws
while
a
four-inch
hollow
steel
needle
plunged
down
from
the
proboscis
of
the
Hound
to
inject
massive
jolts
of
morphine
or
procaine
.
The
pawn
was
then
tossed
in
the
incinerator
.
A
new
game
began
.
Montag
stayed
upstairs
most
nights
when
this
went
on
.
There
had
been
a
time
two
years
ago
when
he
had
bet
with
the
best
of
them
,
and
lost
a
week
's
salary
and
faced
Mildred
's
insane
anger
,
which
showed
itself
in
veins
and
blotches
.
But
now
at
night
he
lay
in
his
bunk
,
face
turned
to
the
wall
,
listening
to
whoops
of
laughter
below
and
the
piano-string
scurry
of
rat
feet
,
the
violin
squeaking
of
mice
,
and
the
great
shadowing
,
motioned
silence
of
the
Hound
leaping
out
like
a
moth
in
the
raw
light
,
finding
,
holding
its
victim
,
inserting
the
needle
and
going
back
to
its
kennel
to
die
as
if
a
switch
had
been
turned
.
Montag
touched
the
muzzle
.
The
Hound
growled
.
Montag
jumped
back
.
The
Hound
half
rose
in
its
kennel
and
looked
at
him
with
green-blue
neon
light
flickering
in
its
suddenly
activated
eyebulbs
.
It
growled
again
,
a
strange
rasping
combination
of
electrical
sizzle
,
a
frying
sound
,
a
scraping
of
metal
,
a
turning
of
cogs
that
seemed
rusty
and
ancient
with
suspicion
.
"
No
,
no
,
boy
,
"
said
Montag
,
his
heart
pounding
.
He
saw
the
silver
needle
extended
upon
the
air
an
inch
,
pull
back
,
extend
,
pull
back
.
The
growl
simmered
in
the
beast
and
it
looked
at
him
.
