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 to see the finest dog in New York State? Perhaps the finest in the world."

"You couldn't show me anything that would interest me more. Is it in the barn ¢"

"Oh, no," said the girl flushing. "He is down in the woods. It is only a short walk."

Richard Henderson looked at her sharply and for the first time noticed the signs of tears. He divined at once that she was in trouble. Should he go with her to the woods?

It was rather odd!

But at that moment there arose from behind the house a dismal long-drawn howl, beginning down low and gradually ascending until it ended in a mere thread of sound, like the wailing of the wind.

"Is that him?" asked Richard. "It sounds more like a wolf. I once heard wolves howling in the mountains on a winter's night."

"Perhaps he is not so far removed from

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 a wolf. But he has a heart of gold and it's all love for his friends."

"Let's hurry or they will have the tire fixed."

They found Silversheene in a thicket of spruce, chained to a small tree. Under the tree his mistress had made a fine bed, but he was straining at his leash and all impatience to get loose.

At the first sight of him the young man stopped still in his tracks as though petrified. He did not speak, but voiced his surprise in a low whistle.

"My, he is a beauty. He is a wonder. Why I never saw anything to equal him at the San Francisco bench show," he said at last. "What is he, a Husky or a Malemute?"

"I don't know," said the girl. "We call him just an Eskimo dog. When Admiral Peary came back from one of his arctic trips he brought several sledge dogs with him. He kept them on an island in Casco Bay. But within the last five years they

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 have been breeding them at a kennel here in the Adirondacks. My father gave him to me for my fifteenth birthday. That was two years ago and now Dad is dead and Silversheene, he, he,—"

At this point in the narrative she broke into violent weeping and could not speak.

"I am mighty sorry," he said comfortingly. "If it is anything that I can help about command me."

"That is just the point. That was why I brought you down to see him. I want to give him to you. He is the dearest possession I have in the world. I love him best of any one next to mumsy. But I must get him away at once."

"I see," said Dick. "He has got to be railroaded out of the state immediately to escape somebody or something. What is his offense?"

"Sheep killing," sobbed the girl, "but it wasn't his fault. No one but Mike Fogarty would be so mean about it. He hated Dad and Dad is dead and, and,—"

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 "I see," said the young man sympathetically. "He hated Dad and now he takes it out on Dad's daughter. He must be a skunk. I would like to see him a few minutes."

"It wouldn't do any good. He is just that mean. He wants to hurt us and he has a chance. It was not Silversheene's fault either. Fogarty's old sheep got into our lot. They spoiled my flower garden. Silversheene helped me drive them out. I was rather vehement about it and did not curb him as I should. He saw that I felt badly about the garden and two hours later he went over into the pasture further to punish the sheep. Hekilled nine. We offered to pay for them, but Fogarty says that he will have blood for blood. He is sending the sheriff this forenoon to shoot Silversheene."

"I see," said the young man gravely. "But what can I do to help you?"

"I want to give him to you. It will almost break my heart to lose him, but that

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 would be better than to have him shot. I want you to take him to Oregon. He is a perfect gentleman, but mumsy says he is a man's dog. He is all gentleness with us, but he is terrible if he is aroused. I suppose it is his wild nature. You see he came from that savage north where everything is so terribly brutal. But he is a gentleman. I know you will love him."

Richard Henderson stood in silence taking in all the fine points of the beautiful dog before him, for a full minute. Then he struck his palms together with a loud slap.

"Done," he said. "He will start for Oregon as soon as that tire is on."

"Oh, that is fine," cried Hilda. "Now I shall not hear that dreadful rifle shot, but I shall lose him."

"Oh, Silversheene, I shall have to give youup. Come let me introduce you to your new master."

She took a strong hold of the splendid dog's collar and laid her other hand over his muzzle while Richard Henderson advanced

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 and put his hand lightly on the dog's back and finally on the back of his head.

At first Silversheene growled softly, but finally stood still and allowed himself to be fondled by the stranger.

It must not be imagined that every young man could come along and put his hand on this remarkable dog so easily, but there is a difference in men, and dogs are quick to discover it. In the first place Dick had fondled every dog that he could get his hands on since they left Oregon and his clothing smelled doggy.

This was a sort of letter of introduction, but even more important than that he loved dogs passionately and Silversheene knew it at once, merely from the tone of his voice and his mental attitude toward him.

Dogs are probably keener than any other animal on discerning the mental attitude of men and women about them toward their kind. This is probably because they have associated so long with man, and also because their intuitions are keen.

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 Then Richard had that masterful way with him concerning dogs which every fine dog likes. A good dog craves a good master. Not one who will coddle him, but one who will dominate him by a will stronger than his own. So Silversheene recognized at once that this man knew and loved dogs, and that he was a man to obey and worship.

So in a very few minutes there was begun an acquaintance which was to ripen into a wonderful companionship, and was to take the two on many strange adventures far from civilization, and to make a bond of friendship between them that only death could break.

While on his part Richard Henderson had never before felt his heart go out in a great bound of admiration and love as it did to Silversheene there in the woods, with the girl bending above him. And he was a dog to inspire love at the first sight. Well was he named Silversheene, for his coat was like spun silver and very long. At the shoulders it was eight or nine inches, while his

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 tail, which was carried curled up over his back, was like a great silver banner, the hair upon it being a foot long. This coat was so thick near the skin that water rarely touched his hide. His head was strong, but inclined to be pointed, with a wolf-like look about it. His jaws were powerful, as they had need to be in the desperate northland from which his sires had sprung. His forehead was broad and high, but his eyes were rather small and close together, yet of great brilliancy, and they could change with his every changing mood. Ata blow or a harsh word, fire like living coals would leap into them. His ears were small, erect and very expressive.

"I can't take this wonderful dog without leaving you something in return," said Richard finally. "He is worth much more money than I have with me."

"Oh, that is all right," said the girl with a half stifled sob. "You are doing me a great favor to take him."

The young man pulled out his pocketbook,

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 extracted a twenty-dollar bill, and pressed it into the hand of the reluctant girl. He then unclasped a small college pin from the lapel of his coat and gave it to her.

"That is my college pin," he said. "You keep it to remember me by. It is a University of Oregon pin. I am a senior at the finest college in the world."

"Oh, I'd love it to remember Silver sheerie's new master by," she said blushing, "but I ought not to take the money."

"Yes, you must. My father has plenty and he gives me more than I can spend. Buy yourself something to remember Silversheene and me by."

"I would love to. That will be fine. Oh, isn't it just like an exciting story?"

"Yes," said Richard, "and there is my father's chauffeur honking for me. That is like a storybook too."

"Perhaps you had better not go back to the house with Silversheene. The sheriff and Mike Fogarty might come for him. You see that bend in the road yonder by the

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 big pine? You take Silversheene and wait in the road there, and I will go back to the house and tell them to pick you up."

"All right," said the young man. "I am mighty glad to have met you and I am awfully sorry to rob you of your dog. I will take good care of him."

"Go, Silversheene," said the girl between her sobs as the dog hung back and growled softly and whined. His mistress finally had to pick up a stick and pretend to strike him before he would go along, but even so he looked back over his shoulder all the way. The last she saw of him he was disappearing behind a thicket and still looking back.

"When you get him safe in the automobile, honk three times," she called to the young man as they disappeared.

"All right," he called back cheerily. "Good-bye and good luck. Give my regards to Mike Fogarty when he comes."

The girl hurried back to the farmhouse and gave the message to the impatient party

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 and then watched with tear-filled eyes the great car as it glided noiselessly away.

A couple of minutes later she heard the horn give three mellow honks and then three more for luck, and she knew that Silversheene had begun his long journey to the Land of Sunshine.

She sat upon the piazza thinking for a long time and then went silently into the house.

In the words of Kipling she had given her heart to a dog to tear and it was now being torn.

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HE Henderson car was a very large one, so there was just room enough between the seats for Silversheene.

He lay by Richard's feet and occasionally looked up into his face with his wondering brown eyes which seemed to be saying, "I don't understand at all where we are going. I suppose it is all right because my mistress gave you my leash and told me to go with you, but I don't understand."

Whenever they stopped and got out of the machine Silversheene would look sharply about as though he was looking for the girl, as indeed he was. Twice he tried to give his new master the slip and run home to her, but Richard had expected this and was on the lookout for him, so he did not escape. For the first hour or two young Henderson

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 talked to him, and told him in his pleasant sympathetic voice that it was all right and that it was a good company into which he had fallen.

Henderson senior was also a dog lover and he admired Silversheene greatly, but when he was told of the sheep-killing episode he shook his head.

"I don't know, Dick, I am afraid," he said. "You didn't forget that we have ten thousand sheep more or less, did you?"

"No, father, I did not forget, but I am sure that it can be educated out of him. Perhaps I can make a sheep dog of him. You know I did of one killer we had."

"Yes, but that was a civilized dog, while this chap is the son of a wolf, if I am any judge. But he certainly is good to look upon."

As the day wore on Silversheene and Richard Henderson became better and better acquainted, and by the time they had reached the top of the world as they called it and were crossing the backbone of the

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 continent, they were the best of pals. But as Hilda had said, "he was a man's dog." Even so it took a good dog handler and a dominant spirit always to control him and keep him in bounds.

A harsh word or a threatened blow made him see red. His eyes would change in a second from a mild wondering kindly brown, to two flaming coals. He would be transformed by some hostile incident from a gentle loving animal to a bristling quivering fury, only one degree removed from the wolf.

Twice in the middle west Richard had to literally throw himself upon Silversheene to keep him from killing some foolish dog who had attacked him. And once he had to get up in the night and rescue a venturesome hostler who had attempted to whip Silversheene for barking, when he was tied in the barn. The dog had suddenly sprung at the man, pulling out the staple which held his chain, and treed the unsuspecting hostler on a hay mow. He might have

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 stayed there all night had not his cries for help brought aid.

One twilight night three weeks after the Henderson party had taken on Silversheene they found themselves marooned in the Cascade mountains in Oregon just at dusk. An important part of the automobile had broken and the chauffeur could not fix it. It was finally decided that Richard should go on foot to a small town ten miles down the mountain to get the part needed. A foot of snow had fallen and he did not expect to get back that night. The car had come to a standstill in as lonely and out-of-the-way spot as could well be imagined. White snowcapped peaks towered all about them. Between the peaks valleys stretched, deep, precipitate and silent as the tomb. Many of these deep cuts and gorges afforded a straight drop of several hundred feet.

The larger timber had disappeared as they climbed and only scrub pines survived at this altitude. It seemed to the marooned

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 party as they prepared to make themselves comfortable for the night that they were the only people in all the world at the very heart of this silent, ghastly, ghostly world.

Richard said that he would take Silversheene with him, for while he was eating lunch something happened that made him fearful of his walk down the mountain side.

The party were chatting and laughing over their lunch and trying to make the best of their rather sorry plight when from the outer world there came a sound which they first mistook for the shrieking of the wind. All but Silversheene, he was not fooled. For his hackles went up and he got quickly to his feet and began growling softly.

"What is it, old scout?" asked Dick, laying his hand on the dog's head.

All listened intently and in a minute or two the sound was repeated. This time it was much nearer. At the sound Silversheene whined to be let out of the car and Dick opened the door and let him out.

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 "What was it, Father?" asked Richard in surprise.

"A wolf," said Mr. Henderson simply. "It is the hunting cry of the gray wolf. Let's watch and see what your son of a wolf will do. He evidently knows his kind."

Silversheene stood like a statue beside the ear listening, his ears were erect, his tail was curled a little tighter than usual if possible. His head was up, his eyes were blazing and his whole manner was tense with waiting.

Again the wild weird cry floated down to the listening humans. They could now hear it plainer and it certainly was a weird sound. It began down low with a hoarse roar, but gradually ascended, becoming more vital with sound and wild and unearthly as it ascended. Finally it ended in a weird wail which was a mere thread of sound, blood curdling and rather terrible.

For several seconds after the last cry Silversheene stood like a statue listening, then to the astonishment of every one he lifted his muzzle to heaven and answered the cry

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 in as perfect a wolf howl as that which had come out of the gathering gloom.

"There," said Mr. Henderson, "I told you so. He is a veritable son of a wolf. I presume he will desert us here and go back to the wild."

"Not on your life," said Dick. "He thinks too much of me already. I believe he would fight a whole pack of wolves for me."

"Richard," said Mrs. Henderson, "you aren't going a single step to-night. If the wolves don't get you this terrible dog will. I shall not rest a minute while you are gone."

"Oh, I don't think anything of that sort will happen," said Mr. Henderson, "buf it is a rather nasty night. I wish we had not been marooned here."

"The wolves would be as afraid of me as you are of them, Mother. Of course I will go. I will take my revolver and Silversheene and they won't molest me. A wolf will run as fast from a man as he can."

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 "That is so," said Henderson senior, "unless he is hungry and I don't think these wolves would be at this time of the year. I presume there is but one. They are not very plenty."

Richard was all eagerness to be off, for he scented an adventure. He had spent one winter in the mountains with his father's shepherds and their stories of wolves and attacks on the sheep in the olden days thrilled him. He was young, courageous, and this threatened danger only added zest to the trip. His father took his part, so finally he set out. The moon was bright—and he had his revolver and Silversheene, so he felt perfectly secure. His mother heard him go whistling into the distance occasionally calling to the dog as he went.

"I do wish Richard was not so venturesome," she said to Mr. Henderson. "I am afraid something will happen to him sometime."

"He is a fine spirited boy," said her husband. "He has the making of a fine man.

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 I am proud of him. He will be all right."

For three hours all went well and the young man and the dog trudged steadily down the mountain side. It was rather bad walking as the track had not been broken. This was especially so in places where it had drifted badly. Some of the way the road was entirely bare, but in other places the drifts were two and three feet deep. It was not very cold, but the wind was keen and it had a biting edge. Had it not been for the plight of his family Richard Henderson would rather have enjoyed this night tramp.

But when they had covered five miles of the distance to the village the unexpected happened, as it is always liable to. The road here was very steep, with a precipitous drop of several hundred feet on one side, and a dark woods on the other. Richard was just congratulating himself on how well they were getting along when he came to an icy place in the road.

The ice was covered with a coating of an

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 inch of snow and this made it even more treacherous. Suddenly his feet shot out from under him, and as he fell his right ankle twisted and he went down heavily. With a groan of pain he sat up and rubbed his ankle. It was probably nothing. He had often had as bad a hurt as that in football and gone back into the game. But as he felt of the injured member he uttered a cry of pain. It certainly was no slight sprain.

He took off his shoe and began slowly massaging the ankle, and then he noted that it was swelling rapidly. He put snow upon it but that did little to stop the swelling. Soon it was so badly swollen that he could not replace the shoe.

Then the full force of his predicament came home to him. He could not even put on his shoe, much less step upon his foot. There was little chance that an automobile would pass as the track showed that none had passed since the storm.

It was cold but he did not think he would

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 freeze, though it was anything but pleasant to think of lying there in the snow all night. But he would make himself as comfortable as possible, so he crawled to one side of the road, and brushed snow off from a flat boulder and sat upon it. For an hour he sat in silence, occasionally speaking to Silversheene who stuck close to his side. The wise dog seemed to divine that something was the matter. At first he had started several times down the road and then stopped to look back, thus seeking to get his master started. But he finally seemed to understand that they could not go, so he settled himself by Richard's side to wait his pleasure.

Finally the young man became impatient and bethought himself of shouting for help. This he did until his throat ached, but got only echoes in response. Then he remembered his revolver. Three shots in quick succession was the signal of distress the world over, so he slipped it out and set the echoes ringing with three quick shots.

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 They waited for a long time, but there were no answering shots or shouts, but they did hear a sound. It was so faint that Richard first thought it was the wind but not so Silversheene, for his hackles and mane went up and his eyes became filled with fire. Soon the sound was repeated and Dick himself recognized it to be the hunting cry of the gray pack.

"Ye gods, Silversheene," he cried. "I have just fooled away three of my six shots. What a fool I was not to take some extra eartridges."

For a quarter of an hour both dog and man listened, but heard only the moaning of the wind and the hooting of an owl, weird sounds Richard thought them. Then the wolf howl came clearly to them. It was a score of rods up the road. With a shudder Dick recognized the fact that they were trailing him. He was in trouble and no mistake.

He called the dog to him and talked to

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 him in a low voice, petting him on the head as he talked.

"I am in a tight place, old pal, and you must stick by me. The folks think you will desert me, but I know better. We must stand by each other if it comes to a fight at close range."

Five minutes later one of the wolves appeared in the road a dozen rods away, but the young man knew that he must not take any chance shots. All his cartridges must count, so he waited. Then another gray shape appeared and then another. There were three of them and God only knew how many more. Silversheene saw them also and he stood waiting with his mane still bristling and his eyes like blazing coals. An hour passed and the three gray shapes had gradually drawn in toward them within fifty feet. They skulked behind boulders and trees, and did not long stay in the open.

The man shouted at them, but it had no deterrent effect for they kept right on nar-

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 rowing down the distance between them and their quarry.

Then one of the gray marauders disappeared and Richard thought perhaps he had given up, but a quarter of an hour later he was dismayed beyond words to discover the wolf watching him from behind a tree trunk, not two rods away. The reason?

Silversheene was the first to discover the nearness of their foe, and wanted to attack, but Richard held him by the collar and took a careful aim at the wolf's head.

The light was not as good as it would have been in the daytime and he thought he missed, but he did not see the eyes again for an hour. Then they appeared behind another tree still nearer. Silversheene by this time was all eagerness to get at them, but Dick still restrained him. He wanted to save the noble dog for the fight at close range if they came to grips. He was afraid that two or three wolves might overpower him in the dark woods. Finally the eyes like living coals drew so close that they were

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 barely fifteen feet away and Richard who was inexperienced hazarded another shot.

This time he was successful, for the wolf sprang into the air and fell kicking in the snow not a dozen feet away.

"That's one of them, old pal," he said to Silversheene, who was fairly raging to get into the fight. "If I could get another I'd let you go."

Then the second wolf again appeared behind still another tree. He was not over twenty feet away and Richard was getting rattled by their boldness, so took deliberate aim and fired. It was a lucky shot as the second had been. And the second wolf crawled away to die.

"I guess we have done for him," said Dick. "If I knew there were only three I would let you go."

But the matter was taken from his hands by the dog himself, for with a frantic bound he broke away and with two springs disappeared into the woods. A few seconds later Richard heard the rapid motions of a

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 desperate struggle. They did not snarl or bark as dogs do, but fought silently. Then to Richard's dismay Silversheene gave ground and the wolf slowly drove him into the open. This had been a ruse on Silversheene's part, but Dick did not know it.

They came into a small open place at the edge of the forest and Richard saw the desperate battle to the very end, the fight that the brave dog was waging for him.

They did not clinch, but springing, slashed and then sprang again. They were so quick in their movements that the man could hardly tell the dog from the wolf. Silversheene was punishing the wolf, and he himself was also being punished.

It made Dick wince as he heard the savage blow of the wolf's jaws upon the face of his dog friend as they fought. But Silversheene's long coat stood him in good stead that night, especially about the throat. Once the wolf almost got the death grip. For several minutes the battle swayed first this way and then that. Sometimes Dick

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 thought Silversheene would be killed, but all the time he cheered him on with shouts and words of encouragement. Finally the wolf became overconfident and pressed the dog too hard and in an unguarded moment the powerful jaws of the arctic fighter reached his throat. Once they had gotten their hold, they did not let go, although the Eskimo dog usually fights like a wolf. Over and over they rolled in the snow, the wolf fighting to free himself and Silversheene holding on. Richard fairly held his breath as the desperate struggle went on. But finally the efforts of the wolf grew feebler and feebler until at last he lay still. Silversheene had won! Then he got up and sniffed his vanquished enemy's nose and limped painfully to his master.

Dick received him with joy and hugged and praised him. He had won the fight yet he was badly gashed about the face, and his silver coat was dyed red in many places. But he sat down philosophically in the snow and began licking his wounds.

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 This last struggle seemed to have discouraged the wolves, if there had been others, for although the man and dog listened feverishly for an hour, yet they saw no more of them. Nor did the mournful wolf hunting cry disturb them again.

Finally just at daybreak, to his great joy, Richard discovered an automobile coming slowly up the mountain. Fifteen minutes later the machine stopped beside the helpless man and the brave dog.

After brief explanations they headed back to the village and got the wanted parts for the Henderson machine and by noon Richard and Silversheene were back on the mountain top telling of the great adventure.

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HE story of Silversheene's fidelity to Richard in the battle with the wolves gained at once for him a place in the affections of the Henderson family. Even Dick's mother looked on him with favor. No further mishap befell the party and in two days they were back on the Oregon ranch, very happy to be home again.

Dick's sister Eleanor welcomed them with open arms. She had been spending her vacation with a school chum and had not seen them for several weeks. So there was a general rejoicing in the Henderson family.

Eleanor at once took Silversheene to her heart and this was a great comfort to him. To tell the truth he had been very lonesome for Hilda, although he worshipped Dick.

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 And Eleanor was just about Hilda's size and her voice reminded the homesick dog of his lost mistress. So she fitted into the sore spot in his dog heart and they became the best of friends.

The only other dogs on the place were a Pomeranian named Snap, and a cocker spaniel called Jerry. The Pomeranian Silversheene would not even deign to look at. He evidently considered him a disgrace to the dog family, but he and Jerry became very good friends, and had many a good romp together.

The week after their return Richard went away to college and Silversheene missed him greatly. But Eleanor was only away for the day so they had the nights and mornings together.

Mr. Henderson finally taught Silversheene to go with him in the automobile and he always left him in the car while he was doing errands. He boasted to his friends that he did not worry much about having his car stolen, or anything taken from it

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 while Silversheene was on guard. When Dick came home at Christmas time Silversheene was overjoyed and they had a blissful two weeks together.

Silversheene got on very well with every one except Pedro Garcia, one of the gardeners. This Mexican disliked dogs thoroughly, and he had undertaken to drive Silversheene off from a garden bench on which he was lying.

This incensed the dog who thought that he was doing no harm. Pedro made the mistake of attacking a gentleman with a garden rake, instead of politely asking him to get down.

Silversheene resented this and a pitched battle ensued. The dog was wounded badly in the face, but Pedro had to take refuge in a peach tree and even so narrowly escaped being eaten alive.

Mr. Henderson took the dog's part and told the Mexican that he ought not to have struck at him.

Pedro said little, but with the vengeful

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 nature of his people secretly vowed that he would get even with the savage brute. He would pay him off in a coin that would make the score even with something in his favor.

The following summer Richard went into the mountains with the shepherds who tended their ten thousand sheep. He had boasted that he could make a good sheep dog of Silversheene, and this was to carry out his boast.

Day after day he labored patiently with the dog, first instifling into his head by many object lessons the fact that the sheep were property and that they belonged to him; that they were creatures who had to be guarded and tended and driven hither and thither. He perfected him in driving and penning, and in all the intricacies of a good sheep dog. Finally in September he was convinced that his work was well done. He felt that the sheep were as safe under Silversheene's protection, as under that of any of their trained collies. Richard wanted to stay until the sheep were driven

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 out of the mountains into the broader valleys nearer civilization for the winter months. But his father had decided that he ought to go into his office to help him with the business and on the fruit orchards, which were also a feature of the work on the great ranch. So Richard reluctantly left Silversheene with the shepherds to help them drive in the sheep when the time should come while he went back home.

All went well with Silversheene and the sheep until early in November when they started to round the sheep up and to drive them down into the warm valleys. Then the weather played them a bad trick. Before they had any idea that it was coming the first snow was upon them with a fall of a foot. The snow had fallen in the night and when the day dawned it was still snowing hard. The shepherds knew that the more snow they had the harder time they would have in getting the sheep out, so they kept on driving them in a blinding snowstorm. It was Silversheene's task to fol-

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 low on the left flank of one of the large flocks and keep the stragglers from getting away. In that section of the flock was an old black-faced buck who was the leader, and he gave Silversheene a great deal of trouble. He seemed to dislike the dog and would stamp and lower his head at him whenever he came near. Again and again this obdurate buck broke away and took a score or more of sheep with him, and the dog had to go after them. Finally towards night the old buck made another attempt and got behind Silversheene in spite of him, as he was having trouble with another bunch of sheep who were also stragglers. This time the old buck got a good start and Silversheene was unable to head him off. An evil spirit seemed to possess the old buck and he led his little band further and further away from the flock down a deep gulch beside a small stream. It was so narrow that Silversheene could not get around in front of them to head them off.

All he could do was to tag along behind,

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 hoping all the time that they would get sick of it and turn back. But the old leader had no mind to turn back. He seemed to think that better feed was ahead.

So hour after hour he led them further and further from the large flock, until finally they were hopelessly separated from the rest of the sheep. Then it was that the shepherds discovered that Silversheene was missing. The following day they saw that the old buck was also gone, and they imagined some sheep as well. Well, they would have to look out for themselves, as they had their hands full with the main flock. So it happened that two days later poor Silversheene found himself hopelessly lost in the mountains. He and his little flock were marooned in a small valley between high mountains. The snow that had continued to fall had obliterated all signs of their tracks, so no one could find them.

When the shepherds finally reported the event to Mr. Henderson he whistled and looked very grave.

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 "That will be a great blow to Dick," he said. "He had trained him very carefully and thought he was a safe dog with the sheep. I guess he won't go hungry himself, so long as he has plenty of mutton at hand. But it is a rather sorry plight for the sheep."

When Richard was finally told of the loss he wanted to go in search of them at once, but business was pressing and his father told him to wait. But Dick said that he would bet on old Silversheene and he knew that he would do all he could to protect the sheep. He would starve before he would kill one. "I know it."

The rest of the family were rather skeptical, but Dick's faith did not waver.

It was a happy day for Richard when the work in the warehouses and the office let up enough so that Mr. Henderson said he could go and look for Silversheene if he wanted to.

The young man set off without delay, feeling quite sure he would find that the dog

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 had been faithful to his trust, although he could not understand what had become of him and the little flock of sheep.

He went as far as the foothills in an automobile. Arriving there, Richard left the car with a small farmer who corralled and fed his father's sheep in the winter months, and farmed on a small scale for the rest of the year. When Richard told him his errand, the man who was well versed in the ways of sheep shook his head.

"I am afraid you will find the flock sadly diminished, if you find it at all," he said. "You could not blame the dog. He could not be expected to starve."

"But I trained him very carefully. He understands that they are my property as well as I do," explained Dick.

"I know," said the farmer, "but even man will break all the moral laws when it comes to a case of slow starvation."

"Silversheene could hunt enough to keep himself alive," countered Dick.

"Not and watch the sheep and keep off

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 bears and perhaps mountain lions. I guess he has had a sorry time guarding that flock all right."

Richard was much impressed with the farmer's logic, although his faith in Silversheene did not waver. But as the farmer said, if it was a case of slow starvation he could not blame the dog.

Most of the mountain intervals and gulches Dick knew, although it was a rather wild country. He planned to stay several days if necessary, so he took three days provision and a heavy blanket, and also: a Winchester rifle. He did not intend to get caught again as he had with the wolves, so he had his revolver as well.

His plan was to go along the sides of the valleys, high enough up so that he could see all of the country below with his field glass. In that way he could search more rapidly. There was very little snow in the deep valleys, although in the woods along the slopes there was still considerable.

Dick walked rapidly and covered large

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 sweeps of the country at a time, but even so it was slow work and very much like looking for a needle in a hay mow.

The first day he followed the most likely valley for ten miles back into the mountains, and then crossed over the ridge and worked back along another valley to this starting place in the foothills. He saw plenty of deer tracks, and rabbit tracks, and several bevies of mountain quail, but not a sign of sheep. The second day was a repetition of the first.

A long twenty-mile tramp, many deer signs, but no sheep tracks. He had now covered the four most likely intervals and was getting discouraged, but he did not give up. He was not that sort.

The third day bade fair to be a repetition of the other two. Richard tramped and tramped, starting as soon as daylight and never stopping to rest. By noon he was tired and rather discouraged. His father and the farmer had been right. Looking for the sheep in these endless mountains

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 was a hopeless task. He would probably have to go back and leave poor Silversheene to his fate.

In this frame of mind he sat down upon a rock to rest and to scan with his glass a little valley half a mile beneath. It looked like a very cosy and warm valley and the grass was still green in places. There was no snow in the sheltered vale.

He was just raising the glass to his eyes when a faint and far-away bark floated up to his ears. At first he thought he must be mistaken, so he listened intently and soon it was repeated. It sounded very much like Silversheene's bark. He was a rather silent dog, as are the Eskimo dogs, but he would occasionally bark when driving sheep.

Dick scanned the interval carefully with the glass and was about to put it up and go down and see what he could discover when a wonderful sight met his eyes. A small flock of sheep came out from another interval which led from the first, and

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 started slowly along the valley; and close behind them was a silver gray dog. There was no mistaking him even at that distance. It was faithful old Silversheene.

Richard's first impulse was to shout at the top of his voice and so attract the dog's attention, but something cautioned him to wait and watch. So he held the glass upon them and waited. Slowly and patiently the dog drove them for fifty rods up the valley and then some of them stopped and bunched together and seemed to be feeding.

Then for the first time Richard noted that a small stream threaded its way through the valley. The sheep were drinking at a quiet little pool. The lines of that old shepherd's ong came to his lips. "He leadeth me beside the still waters." That was what Silversheene was doing. It was noon and he was watering his sheep. For half an hour the flock lingered about the pool and then the dog drove them slowly away and they disappeared in the gulch which had first hidden them from sight.

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 Dick waited no longer, but as fast as his long legs could carry him he made his way down to the valley and soon discovered the interval where the flock had disappeared. There in a sheltered warm spot he discovered the flock feeding, and beside them, watching and waiting patiently, a tired disconsolate-looking dog. Dick had come upon them so quietly that Silversheene did not at first see him. His head was down, and he looked very tired and even at that distance Richard could see that he looked haggard and old.

Then he sprang forward with a glad shout and the dog sprang up with an angry snarl and was immediately on guard. But when he discovered who the intruder was he flung himself joyously on his young master, while Dick hugged the brave dog as he would have a brother. Then he noticed that Silversheene was very gaunt.

He did not look as though he had eaten for weeks. When Dick finally set him down he staggered and nearly fell, and a

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 wild look came into his eyes. "My heavens, old pal, you are starving!" cried Richard. "We will remedy that at once."

He unstrapped his knapsack and took out the remains of his lunch. The dog gulped the food down so rapidly that he choked and then whined pitifully for more. So Dick broke it up in small pieces and fed it to him gradually.

He had shot a rabbit a mile back and hung it in a tree, so he and Silversheene made all haste to the spot; and soon the famished dog was tearing the rabbit to pieces like a hungry wolf. On the way back they shot another; and Silversheene had his fill for the first time in three weeks. When Dick went over the ground where the dog and the sheep had spent the three weeks, he found that they had cropped the grass clean in many places and had come often to the only sizable pool in the stream to drink. Silversheene's thoughtfulness in caring for them was evinced by the fact that Dick found a trampled place in a sheltered

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 thicket where they had slept at night. That evening at sunset he waited and watched to see what Silversheene would do.

He first drove the sheep out to the pool and watered them just as he had at noon and then drove them into the thicket for the night.

"Good enough, old pal!" cried the man, when the jubilant dog had returned to his master after seeing the sheep safe for the night. "We will stay here for the night and to-morrow you and I will drive them out."

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HEN his enemy, Pedro Garcia, learned to run the automobile and became Mr. Henderson's chauffeur, a more disgusted dog than Silversheene could not well be imagined. Hitherto, when Dick was not available, Mr. Henderson had run the machine himself and now to have this objectionable Pedro take their place at the wheel, filled Silversheene with disgust.

Most dogs are very susceptible as to the character of those about them. They are especially keen to detect evil. This trait was so marked that a large business house kept a St. Bernard dog in the outer office. Whenever a stranger came into the office the dog would look him over, or perhaps sniff at him inquiringly. If the dog growled or showed other signs of disapproval, the

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 stranger was turned down in the inner office.

So while Mr. Henderson knew that Pedro was rather untrustworthy as are many Mexicans, Silversheene knew his real character.

True, the dog and his master now rode on the back seat, and that was a comfort. But Silversheene had often to sit for a long time in the car with the hated greaser and this irked him exceedingly. He never slept on such occasions, but would lie watching Pedro intently. He would not let the chauffeur take anything from the back of the car when they were alone. It is probable that the dog also felt the hatred in the vengeful man's mind, and the evil that he was planning against him.

"It is strange," said Mr. Henderson to Richard one day, "how Silversheene dislikes Pedro. There seems to be something between them. I am almost afraid to leave them together."

"Silversheene is a gentleman, and Pedro

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 is a skunk," said Dick. "So they don't mix well. There is more honor in a hair of that dog's tail than there is in the whole body of that greaser. I don't like him, Dad. I wish you would fire him and get a white man."

"Oh, I guess he is all right. You know he has been with us fifteen years. He has always been good help and he is a fine gardener."

Silversheene would often catch Pedro looking at him from out the corner of his eye, and he knew that the gaze was malevolent, but no one in the Henderson family ever dreamed of the dastardly plan which was brewing in the mind of the greaser.

One day Pedro and Mr. Henderson and Silversheene drove to some distant orchards where spraying was being carried on. Mr. Henderson left the dog and the driver in the car while he inspected the orchard. Silversheene wanted to go with his master, but Mr. Henderson finally left him in the machine. The last he saw of the dog

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 as he glanced back was his beautiful head looking wistfully through the window. After he had passed from sight the dog lay down and pretended to sleep, but he was watching Pedro carefully as usual.

Mr. Henderson was gone a long time and he finally sent one of the men to tell Pedro to go to a small railway station a couple of miles distant for some express. He also told the man to let the dog come back with him, as he knew Silversheene hated to be left alone with the greaser. This part of the command the man failed to obey. As Pedro started up the car the dog noted that he grinned malevolently back at him and said something in Spanish. Of course the dog could not understand the words, but he knew the tone was malevolent.

Instead of driving directly to the station Pedro stepped on the accelerator and was soon flying along the road in an opposite direction. In about ten minutes he stopped before a small shack and a disreputable greaser came out.

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 "Hurry, Alsandra," cried Pedro excitedly. "I have just the good chance to-day. The good God he makes me this chance. Hurry, get out your machine. I have him in behind. He can't get away."

"Did you say fifty dollars, Pedro? We get fifty at Portland and you divide even."

"Yes," cried Pedro. "Hurry, I must be back quick." Then Alsandra hurried away and soon had a disreputable Ford standing beside the Henderson car.

Silversheene in the meantime seemed to divine that their actions had to do with him, and growled softly eyeing them suspiciously.

"He looks like a fighter," said Alsandra. "I guess he will give us much trouble. Could you get a slipnoose over his head from the front seat, Pedro? If you could we would have him all right. A dog with his wind shut off is as good as dead."

When Pedro dangled the rope over the seat, Silversheene met him with a deep snarl. He was now sure that they had sinister de-

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 signs on him. But when Pedro barked at him and growled in answer to his growls, he suddenly felt a great longing to get at these two devils and tear them to pieces. So without considering the consequences he reared up on his hind legs and reached over the front seat for Pedro. This was just what the cunning greaser wanted. For with a sudden motion he slipped the noose over the beautiful head of the dog and with a sharp pull drew it tight. At the same time his confederate opened the back door of the machine and caught the dog by the hind legs and in another second they had the great fighter stretched out between them helpless.

Pedro pulled so hard on the rope that Silversheene's tongue came out and his breathing was temporarily suspended. Everything became black and he almost eeased to struggle.

Alsandra in the meantime hastily bound his hind legs together and his fore paws as

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 well. He then stuck a stick through the foaming jaws of the dog and tied them with a strong cord, until he was completely muzzled. Then Pedro let up on the slipnoose on the dog's neck.

Poor Silversheene raged and boiled inwardly but could do nothing. He worked his paws frantically to get them loose, but the cords with which they were bound held. With his jaws he could only growl and that helped him little.

So he lay helpless while his captors slung him into the back of the Ford and tied him to the footrest. Finally Alsandra threw an old blanket over him, covering all but the tip of his nose, and the Ford drove rapidly away.

Pedro then made all haste to the station, secured the can of spray and drove back to the orchard. When Mr. Henderson returned to the car Pedro seemed very much excited, and explained at some length that while he was at the station the dog had

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 climbed over the front seat of the car and run away, and that he had probably gone home.

Mr. Henderson glanced sharply at the greaser, but he looked honest. Then he remembered how Silversheene hated to be left with the Mexican and concluded that the story was true, so thought no more of it. But when they returned home and nothing had been seen of Silversheene his suspicions were aropsed.

They summoned the greaser and had a long conversation with him but could not break down his story. So there was nothing to do but advertise for the dog and put in motion what machinery they could for his recovery.

When Dick heard of it he said at once that the Mexican had played them some trick for getting rid of the dog; and if he ever found out what it was he would skin him alive.

So a campaign was started for the recov-

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 ery of Silversheene, but it was a long time before they saw him again. When he did at last come back into their lives it was like a chapter from the Arabian Nights.

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VER since the discovery of gold in Alaska in 1887, there has been a more or less thriving traffic in dogs for the Alaska sled teams, carried on along the Pacific Coast. This business was not legitimate, but nefarious to the last degree. It was done usually by such men as rob hen roosts and do other petty larceny. But in this case the crime seems even more contemptible because it often robbed the household of a dog who was one of the family.

Often the companion of little children was sacrificed to man's greed for gold. Thus it happened that dog-snatchers were always on the watch for dogs which would work into one of the northern dog teams. When, as in the case of Pedro Garcia, one could pay off an old score and get fifty dol-

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 lars for doing it, the enterprise looked good, although it took the heart of a Judas to carry it out.

So it was into the hands of such men that poor Silversheene had fallen. As he lay bound upon the floor of the Ford car he was certainly a pitiful object, but the men who carry on such business have neither pity nor honor.

It was almost a miracle that Pedro and his confederate had managed to get the upper hands of this terrible fighter so completely, but they had taken him off his guard.

When the noose tightened on his throat, Silversheene would have pulled down Pedro and possibly killed him had not the other man caught him by the hind legs at the same time. Between them they had him utterly at their mercy. He was now absolutely helpless as he lay on his side with both hind and fore legs tied, and with the stick muzzle in his mouth. In addition to that the driver of the Ford had a noose about his

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 neck and one end of the rope was passed under the footrest and the other end was slipped over the man's arm. So if the dog struggled in any way to free himself, his wind was at once shut off. It was a devilish arrangement, and all Silversheene could do was to rage inwardly. This he did with a vengeance.

He was a gentleman and had been betrayed by two blackguards. He had been tricked. He had not been given a chance to fight for his freedom. But he did not whimper. Instead he occasionally growled deep down in his throat. His eyes became bloodshot, his jaws dripped froth. His great, kind dog heart was nearly bursting with rage. His brain reeled, and he was very near to convulsions.

For hours he lay upon his side while the car rolled rapidly over the smooth roads. Occasionally the man looked over the back of the seat at him. He did not want him to die because he would then lose his part of the plunder, but he did not care how

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 much he suffered. The sun touched the western horizon and passed from sight and still they sped on.

About ten o'clock the man stopped the car beside the road, and taking a pail from the automobile, he went to a brook nearby and got some water.

He then took the stick from the dog's mouth and gave him enough slack from the rope so that he could raise his head. Then he held some water under his muzzle.

Silversheene would rather have drunk blood from the man's throat, but he was famishing, and his tongue was badly swollen, so he slowly licked the water, occasionally stopping to growl. The man then ate a lunch and offered the dog a biscuit which he disdainfully refused.

In fifteen minutes they were again on the way. For two days and two nights the car hummed on its way while Silversheene lay upon his side on the floor. He was seasick from the motion and heartsick as well, but he still had plenty of fight left in him. For

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 all the while he had been storing up wrath against the time when he should get at one of these devils who had bound and carried him away.

Finally on the third day the automobile entered a large city on the seacoast and the driver made his way to its most objectionable suburb. Here he drove about for a while searching for the man he had been directed to. Finally the machine drew up before a small house, and a red-faced, brutal-looking man came to the door.

"Hello, Bill," said Alsandra. "I have got a prize for you. It is that dog which Pedro Garcia was planning to send you as soon as he landed him. He is a dandy, but I guess he is hell fire all right. He will give you a go for your money as soon as I let him loose."

The man grinned. "I never see any darned dog that I was afraid of yet. You just drive around back inside the board fence and we will take a look at your roaring lion."

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 So the greaser drove the car inside an enclosure of, perhaps, fifty square feet which was protected from prying eyes by a high board fence.

"This is my school yard where I first takes the kinks out uv um," said Bill. "The fence keeps any prying folks from the society with the long name from interferin', You just unloose your dog devil and let's see what he will do. Wait, I will do it myself."

So without any fear the man reached inside and untied the cords on Silversheene's legs, both front and back, and he sprang up with an angry snarl.

"He ain't so stiff as I thought, seein' he has been lyin' there tied up for so long," observed Bill. "I guess he is so full of fight that it keeps him limber. Wait until I get my club, then we will let him loose. I guess he don't know a club."

When Silversheene felt the cords unloosed from his legs and again stood on all fours he knew that his hour had come. All the

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 rage for all the indignity of the past two days welled up in him and he became transformed into a raging, snarling fury.

Now some one would pay the price of all his injuries.

"Ain't you afraid of him?" inquired Alsandra. "He looks to me a good deal like the devil himself."

The man with the club laughed then he stepped to the back door and flung it wide.

"All right," he said. "Now come on, my ugly pup. You can have all the rope you want."

Silversheene needed no further invitation, for he was out of the door like a flash and with a bound like lightning sprang full at the man's throat.

With an agility that surprised the dog the man sprang to one side and at the same time caught—him a sharp blow with the club on the side of the head. Silversheene was so raging that he did not even feel it, although it was a hard blow. Again he sprang, and this time the man had a closer

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 call, but eluded him again and got in a stunning blow and this time it hurt. Once again the infuriated dog sprang and the man resorted to the same tactics. The fourth spring carried him almost into the man's face, but he stooped low and caught him a mighty blow under the jaw which made him see stars. For a few seconds poor Silversheene was groggy and so dazed he could scarce see his opponent, but when he finally did make him out, he was once more at him.

But no matter how fast or furious Silversheene sprang and snapped, the man with the club always eluded him and put in a stunning blow. The dog was game but the terrible blows were beginning to tell.

"For God's sakes, Bill," cried Alsandra from the fence. "Don't slip or fall. He will kill you if you do."

The strain of the fight was beginning to tell on this brutal champion of the club. His breath came in gasps and once he nearly lost his footing.

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 "Ef he gets too much for me I've gut a gun for him in my pocket, but I never had to use it on a dog yet. He'll give up directly, or my name ain't dog-smasher Bill."

Silversheene had been standing for a few seconds with his fore legs braced getting back his wind and his eyesight. Blood was flowing freely over his face and it blurred his sight.

Finally with a blood-curdling snarl he went at his tormentor again. This time the pace was faster and more furious than before. Finally when the man had been hard pressed for several seconds he succeeded in bringing the club down full on the top of the dog's head and as he crumpled up on the ground he followed it up with a brutal kick in the side fully to cower him.

The world went dark to Silversheene and he lay still and ceased breathing.

"Well," said the man on the fence, "I guess you have killed him. But you'll have to pay for him. I delivered him all right."

"Killed nothing," snorted Bill, contemp-

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 tuously. "But I guess he has got enough of his Uncle Bill for this time."

After about five minutes Silversheene raised his head and looked bewilderedly around.

"Hello, perp. Come out of your nap. It wasn't a very long one. You will be all right."

To the surprise of the other man Bill got a basin of water and held it fearlessly under Silversheene's nose while the dog lapped the water eagerly. Then with a deep sigh he lay down utterly exhausted and offered no objections while the man washed the blood from his face and chest.

"Gosh, Bill, ain't you afraid he will bite you?"

"Him and me are all right now we have hed our fracas. Why, I ain't sure but what he would love me ef I kept him a week."

In this, however, he was mistaken. For while Silversheene had learned his lesson, that he could not fight a man with a club, yet he always ached in his heart to get at

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 the man and tear his throat open, but he was too sagacious to show it.

That evening Silversheene was put in a yard with about a dozen other dogs, nearly all of whom mourned the loss of their masters and their homes. Some of them sulked, but others took it cheerfully.

At first Silversheene who had always been a gentleman and associated with aristocratic dogs held aloof, but he finally surrendered to his new conditions and adjusted himself to his new life.

Every day or two men would come to the yard where the dogs were kept and look them over. Then gold would clink between the strangers and the man called Bill and some of the dogs would go away. Silversheene wondered where they went, but he never knew. All he knew was that they never came back.

Finally in the fortunes of war his own turn came and he had become so tired of the yard that he was rather glad. His new master proved to be a Canuck called Gene

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 Gordet and he took Silversheene with him when he went away.

He did not know, but this was a new chapter in his life. One that would take him thousands of miles away from Oregon which had been his home for the past year. Not only was he to go far away, but he was to take an active part in the most strenuous life that men have ever lived. Life that tires men's muscles and endurance to the breaking point. He was to be tested out with a twenty-foot rawhide whip, and a daily run that would leave a civilized dog dying beside the trail at the end of the first day.

Henceforth, Silversheene was to learn in the hard school of experience. He was to learn the law of fang and whip in a country where the under dog never was given quarter and the only fight to wage was the fight that won.

The following day Silversheene and Gene Gordet boarded a train for the north. They went into the baggage car where Gene

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 played cards and talked with other coarse men like himself. Silversheene lay between the seats watching the face of his new master. He decided after a while that he was much better than the man with the club. Gene was tall, muscular, and his voice was rather pleasant, and he laughed a good deal, which Silversheene thought a good sign. Just at dusk they alighted from the train and made their way to a large partly empty warehouse beside the docks. Here Gene left the dog, after feeding him a good supper and tying him up. That same evening he came with another dog. He was a large Dane named Billy and Silversheene liked him at once. Billy was also tied in the warehouse and again Silversheene's new master went away. The following day he brought two more dogs. One was a Russian deerhound named Ginger, and the other a large collie called Whirlwind. The four dogs finally fraternized well enough with the exception that none of them liked Ginger. This was the nucleus of Gene's

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 Alaskan dog team, but of course they did not know.

The third day Gene took all four dogs upon a steamer bound for Alaska and their great adventure had begun. The dogs were kept between decks and they did not see much of Gordet except when he came to feed or water them.

Silversheene had always been fed more than he could eat. So now he was very dignified about his food and did not try to steal from the rest as the others did. The first night Ginger snatched a large piece of meat that had been intended for Silversheene, but retribution was very swift.

For Gordet who had been watching them sent his whiplash singing at the offender and caught him on the middle of the ear and he dropped his stolen plunder and sulked behind Billy. The four dogs did not know that it was Gordet's boast that he could strike straighter at twenty feet with his whip than he could shoot with his revolver, and he was one of the best shots in

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 the west. But they all learned that the way of this whip was swift and terrible and it called for swift obedience. But Gordet was a just man and he never punished without cause.

So the one event in the life of the four dogs as the ship ploughed her way through the Pacific was feeding time. Billy and Whirlwind often put in their time romping and tumbling, for they had to do something. Ginger was too cross to want to take part in any play. Silversheene was too heartsick to care to play. He was not cross, but indifferent. He would lie for hours with his head between his paws, and a far-away look in his brown eyes. At such times the other dogs did not disturb him. He was thinking of the girl in the Adirondacks who had been his first playmate and mistress. In his sleep he would often spring up with a glad bark, only to look about him bewilderedly and then lie down with a dejected air.

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 This was when he had been dreaming of Hilda. Or he would bark excitedly and wag his tail, only to awaken and find that Richard Henderson was not calling him. No one was calling him. The only sound was the endless beating of the engine which was driving the propeller that was taking him further and further from both Hilda and Dick.

So time went slowly by for three weeks. Then one foggy morning the ship came to anchor at the mouth of a great river, where there was an Alaskan city. The men and dogs and freight had to be taken ashore by lighters as the harbor was shallow.

Gene and his four dogs did not attract much attention as there were several other rough men with dogs.

When they were finally upon the city streets Silversheene saw many dogs, but they seemed rather different from most of the dogs that he had seen in his short life. Most of them were either gray or white and

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 many looked quite like himself. So this made him feel more at home than he would otherwise.

Gene led his dogs through the city and out to a low building where a friend kept a rude hotel. Here he left the dogs for the summer while he went inland upon a prospecting expedition. This was just a freak trip that he went on at a minute's hotice. His real object in coming to Alaska was to run a trucking, dog team between two Yukon towns, five hundred miles apart. He expected to make good money at this work. It was hard work, but it paid well and he had come north for gold.

The thing that Silversheene had the most difficulty in adjusting himself to in that far-away Alaskan country, was the summer time of perpetual sunshine. But he finally got used to it and would sleep whenever he felt like it.

One morning when Gene had been gone about a month Silversheene witnessed something that he never forgot. It taught him

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 one of the first lessons of this hard country, and that was never to lose one's feet in a dog fight, especially if a dozen savage brutes were standing by.

Silversheene and a dozen other prospective sled dogs were gathered in a solemn conclave behind the long low building where Gene's friends who boarded Silversheene lived.

It was a sort of hotel of a rude class, but most of the boarders now were dogs, as the men had gone away up the river. Among the dogs who frequented the city and hung about this street was a small white cur of no particular breed. This little dog was the target for the dislike of all the dogs in the vicinity, and he was rarely left alone.

On this particular morning the little homeless canine lost his temper and turned upon his assailant who was larger than himself and a lively dog fight ensued. At the sound of the angry snarls, dogs came running from all directions, and in a minute's time there were at least a score of onlookers.

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 Silversheene was half a mind to take the part of the smaller dog and help him, but he was gradually losing all of his chivalric spirit so he just stood by watching. For a short time the smaller dog held his own, being nerved by a sense of his injustice. But finally the greater weight and strength of the other dog prevailed and the small dog was borne to earth. At this sight, the crowd of watching dogs was transformed to savage brutes just one degree removed from starving wolves. Without a moment's notice of what was to happen the whole mass swept over the struggling fighters, all seeking to get at the under dog.

According to the ethics of the wolf pack this dog had gone down. He had lost his footing and he was any one's meat. They rushed upon him with blood-curdling snarls and snapped and fought to get at him.

At the sound of the melee men came running from all directions with clubs. No man would have the temerity to go into a dog fight like that unarmed. The men

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 struck right and left and some of them even caught the dogs by their hind legs and dragged them back.

But they were too late, for when they had dispersed the dog riot the small cur for whom no one cared was dead. If they had been given time and it had been winter and they were hungry, the pack would have eaten him as well as killed him.

To Silversheene who was used to a civilized country and civilized ways this was rather terrible. But it taught him the needed lesson. Never lose your feet in a dog fight if there are dog spectators, unless you want to lose your life as well.

Late in September the first snow flurry came and Gordet came back from his prospecting expedition. The following day Silversheene's life as an Alaskan sledge dog began.

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HE first thing that Gordet did on re turning from his prospecting expedition was to purchase two more sled dogs and a fine sled. One of these dogs was an old grizzled veteran of the Husky order, named Wolf. The other was an ordinary Husky named Snowball, as he was white as snow. Because of his experience Wolf was given the lead position and upon him fell the great responsibility for the team, so far as dog responsibility could go. Wolf assumed the position as a matter of course and straightway began ruling his teammates with ready and gleaming fangs. Silversheene who was very high spirited himself resented this, but he soon discovered that Gene backed up Wolf with his long

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 cutting whip so he accepted his leadership with as good grace as he could.

When the team was finally harnessed up Wolf was in the lead with Billy next to him. Then Snowball was placed as wheel dog and Ginger, Whirlwind, and Silversheene in between them. Silversheene was very glad Gene did not place him next to Wolf, for that savage Husky well bore out his name and he punished poor Billy mercilessly whenever he transgressed any of the laws of the team.

Billy of course was green so he often transgressed and suffered accordingly. Gene trained them in an open field back of the hotel and in half a day had them partly broken.

At the crack of the whip Wolf led off and woe betide Billy if he did not follow his lead. They first learned that "mush" meant to go forward. As this was their natural impulse it was readily learned. They were taught gee and haw which came harder. But at the word and the crack of

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 the whip Wolf would swing to the right or left, while Snowball would swing his end of the team in the right direction so they got along very well. If the dog ahead of Snowball got out of his traces, that old Husky was at once snapping at him and barking for him to get back, while Wolf saw that none of the dogs near him got out of the traces.

Running about with the empty sled was soon mastered and it was great fun, but when Gene piled on a heavy load and started to draw it from the wharves to a storehouse that was quite different. Then it was that the long black lash sung and cracked about their ears and each dog had to dig for all he was worth. If a dog sulked or lay down in the harness he soon had both the two indignant Huskies and Gene's whiplash to reckon with. It was strange how soon even the civilized dog began to like this work in the harness.

It was not so much work as it was a great play. A strange game in which each sought

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 to outdo his fellow. Finally when they were fully trained their greatest joy was to stand ready for the harness and their greatest ambition to aspire for Wolf's position at the head of the team.

Of course there were some dogs who were without ambition, just as there are men, but if a dog had any spirit he was always looking to promotion to the lead position.

Silversheene took to the snow like a duck to water. His forbears had revelled in it for untold ages so he came back to his own with great zest. He also surprised Gordet with the quick way in which he mastered the harness, but that also was a part of his inheritance, for one of his immediate ancestors had drawn Peary to the pole, while others had drawn heavily loaded sleds over the icefloes and the snowdrifts of the frozen arctic from time immemorial.

Silversheene had some trouble with the snow which gathered between his toes as he travelled and made him fvotsore, but he soon learned to lie upon his back and gnaw

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 the frozen snow from between his toes each night. This was a trick that he learned from old Wolf. To tell the truth he was always watching this grizzled veteran from out of the corner of his eye. Although he hated him because of his severity, yet he admired him and knew that he was very wise in the ways of arctic waste.

The team was fed once a day at night. The feed was always the same. One pound of dried salmon. It was Wolf's place to see that the dogs did not get to fighting over this evening meal, and he was seconded in this watchfulness by Gene's whip.

In the civilized world where Silversheene had been reared there was certain honor among dogs, but he soon learned that it was different here. The stronger dog always stole from the weaker if he could. The only right here in this cold desolate land was the right of might. Old Wolf himself, although he was supposed to set an example, often stole from Billy and the rest of the

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 southland dogs if he could when Gene was not looking.

Finally the real work for the team began and they were all glad, although it was desperately hard work. Work that taxed their endurance to the utmost and often found them footsore and lame at the end of the day's run. But in the morning each dog was sure to be ready, eager and trembling to have his harness again put on.

Gene had a contract to carry the mail and some light express between two Yukon towns five hundrd miles apart. He also made out a load with tea, coffee, and tobacco, for several trading posts along the way. As the price of transportation for these articles was several times the original cost in the States, the business was good. They started each morning at about seven, and kept up the steady pace for eight or ten hours, only stopping at noon to rest while Gene ate his lunch, and the dogs looked on with hungry eyes and dripping jaws.

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 Nor was the team the only part of the outfit that worked, for Gene himself ran the thirty or forty miles with his hand resting lightly on the "gee" pole, or even went ahead and broke track for the team when the going was bad.

Few men in the Yukon were better drivers, or could cover more miles in a day than Gene Gordet. He was six feet two inches in his stockings and weighed one hundred and ninety pounds. His muscles were like whipcords and his nerves like steel. He had wind like a moose and could run for hours behind the sled without fatigue.

His favorite stunt was to come into some snowbound Yukon trading post after a day's run of forty or fifty miles, and after bolting his supper and hot coffee, to join himself with the revellers in some dance hall and then dance all night, and even a part of the next day.

He never pushed his dog team beyond the day's work that he himself was willing to do. He was not a hard master as drivers

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 went in the Yukon, but he would not stand for any fooling in the traces. He often had to discard dogs from his team and find others of better stuff.

Gene drove his dog team just as he did himself. They must go the limit. His word was law. The slightest motion of his hand or whip called for immediate obedience. If it was not forthcoming, that black lash, which was more accurate than any bullet on the Yukon, went singing to the mark.

Gene rarely petted his dogs, as he said it spoiled them for the trail. Yet he made an exception of Silversheene, who was such a beauty that he could not keep his hands off from him. But Gene soon saw that this made the other dogs jealous, so he did his petting on the sly.

Each day on the trail was as much like the day before as routine could make it, although the conditions under which they travelled were always different. Some days the going was good, while others it was

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 very hard. Sometimes it was upon the smooth ice of the Yukon, while at other times they would flounder for hours through drifts. But the mode of procedure each day was the same.

Each morning the dogs came scrambling out of their snow beds at the first sound from their master and shook the snow from their long coats, and licked their feet until they were perfectly clean. Any cuts or bruises were also attended to.

They came as close to the morning campfire as they could and not disturb Gene's effort at getting breakfast. This also gave them a chance to get thawed out after the long night in the snow and to stretch their legs. They watched with expectant faces while their master ate. But when he got out the harnesses and laid them in a long row in front of the sled, each dog was usually in his place. If any lingered old Wolf was upon him and he was punished well for his tardiness. Then Gene harnessed them with care and saw that every-

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 thing was shipshape before the start. The load often had to be relashed to the sled if it had got to slipping. When everything was in readiness there came the clear call to mush and the sharp crack of the whip like the report of the rifle. The team sprang gladly into the traces and they were off for the long day's run.

It was through a lonely waste that they travelled. Usually their own last trail was the only track they saw. They heard few sounds save the howling of the wind and the creaking of the snow. If they did happen to hear the howl of the great white arctic wolf at night, the silence that followed was still more appalling. If the blue fox did puncture the silence with his sharp staccato bark, the stillness afterwards was still more pronounced. Often the arctic owl vied with the howling wind to make the night fearsome, but neither man nor dog heard the sounds, for they were sleeping the sleep of exhaustion.

Each noon Gene allowed himself half an

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 hour to eat his lunch and the dogs that time to rest, but they were not unharnessed. In the middle of the afternoon the pace would slow down and some of the dogs would perhaps lag a little, but at Gene's cheery call to mush and at the crack of the whip they would spring into the harnesses again and go forward at a steady pace. But when the empty stomachs between their gaunt sides told them that the day's run was nearly over old Wolf would occasionally look over his shoulder at Gene to see if there were any signs of stopping. Then Gordet would begin looking for a likely place to camp. It must be sheltered if possible. That was about all they could expect. Finally he would select the place and the team would lie down in the snow to rest, their tongues often lolling out. Finally when the man had made up his mind he would drive the sled under the lee of the boulder or ledge, or perhaps into a deep thicket, and the dogs experienced the great luxury of having their harnesses taken off.

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 Soon the bright campfire would be blazing and the dogs crowding about it. But before he had even put on his coffee Gene would get out the ration of dried fish and throw each dog his piece. When the team had been fed he got out the frying pan and put bacon into it. He would also put on the coffeepot and get out some hard biscuits. In a very few minutes he would be eating his own supper while the dogs watched him at a respectful distance. Again each dog would inspect his feet and gnaw the snow from between his toes and lick the cuts and bruises before retiring. Then one by one they would disappear under the soft snow, each curling up into a round ball and putting his nose in his bushy tail to keep it from freezing during the night.

When the last dog had disappeared Gene himself would stretch his muscles, and rake down his campfire so as to keep it until morning if possible. Then he would get out his rabbit-skin sleeping-bag and himself lie down upon some pine boughs that, if

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 he was lucky, he had been able to cut, but if not, he lay in the snow, for he was as hardy as the dog team. In less than a minute he would be sleeping more soundly than any of the luxury-cradled men of the States upon their beds of ease. Both team and man had earned their sleep, and nature, which often makes up in one way what she takes away in another, gave them sweet sleep and pleasant dreams, even in the frozen arctic under the blinking stars and the gorgeous aurora which painted the sky and the snow a dozen times a minute with a new hue. So they would sleep while the arctic hours slipped noiselessly by and the God of nature would watch over them.

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GAIN with the coming of summer Gene Gordet left his dog team with his friend the hotel-keeper and once more went into the primitive wilderness in search of gold. This bright metal seems to be to the heart of man what the magnet is to steel filings, for it draws them with almost irresistible power. For gold men have braved such hardships as are rarely chronicled. So it was in Alaska. In this mad scramble a man's life did not weigh much in the balance with the chance to "strike it rich" as they say. In the early days the gold fields were nearer to civilization, but in the time of which I write men had to take great chances and go further away from their bases.

But Gene Gordet was lucky, and he

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 struck it rich on that second summer, for he located a rich claim not far from other rich claims on the Tanana river. Every one said that he ought to stay and work it and get the full benefit of his discovery, but Gene thought differently. There were two people calling him back to the Province of Quebec. These were a widowed mother and a sweetheart. A combination very hard to resist. So Gene succumbed to a tempting offer for his claim and sold out. This necessitated his selling all of his outfit, including his dog team.

It is one of the great tragedies in the lives of the domestic animals that they are liable to change after change because of the fact that they are property.

If a dog or a horse is in his prime and his owner has no further use for him, or circumstances make it impossible to keep him longer, he is usually passed along to another master and too often to the highest bidder. But Gene tried to see that his dog team had a good master, for after some dickering he

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 sold the team to an Englishman named George White who was a skillful driver and promised to take good care of the dogs. Even so Gordet wanted to keep out Silversheene and take him back with him to Canada, but White would not hear of this as he said it would spoil the team.

So Gordet said good-bye to the dogs who had served him so faithfully and sailed from Valdez for Victoria. This might have worked out all right for Silversheene and his team mates had it not been for the sad failing of George White, their new master. He was sometimes addicted to drink and the night following the purchase of the team he was in his cups. In this state he was prevailed to take a hand in a poker game and lost heavily.

Finally as a last chance to retrieve his fortunes he put up his new dog team and lost to François Dupret, a gambler and a notorious Alaska bad man.

François was just the opposite of Gene Gordet. Where Gene was tall and mus-

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 cular François was short and fat. His nickname by which he was always called when he was absent was "The Pig." He was very dark, probably with an Indian strain in his blood. His face was repulsive to the last degree and Silversheene's hair upon his neck arose the first time François laid his hand upon him. Instinctively the fine dog felt the degradation of the hand of this brutal man.

His eyes were small and near together, and usually red from drink. His lips were thin and cruel and his teeth usually showed in a malicious grin. He was a great gunman and always toted a .44. Like all bullies he was something of a coward, but always ready to bully the weak and the helpless.

He was especially noted as a hard driver of dogs and a team might well mourn the day he became its master.

By this time Silversheene had been moved up in the dog team until he now stood behind Wolf, the lead dog.

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 This had at once increased the hostility between them, but Gene had been able to control it and it helped to have two such aggressive dogs at the head of the team. François did not at once put the team into service but allowed the dogs to run and become demoralized.

Finally in October when the first snows had come and the police in the city had become insistent that François Dupret move on up the Yukon, he harnessed up his team and started on the long trip to Dawson. He was not so well known to the mounted police of Canada and he thought to carry on his gambling and other nefarious practices for the winter in that famous city.

In addition to a heavy consignment of dog feed François took a load of such commodities as he thought he might sell with profit in Dawson. When loaded, Gene had always run by the gee pole, but François always rode no matter how heavy the load, so trouble for the team at once began. He

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 had added two new Huskies to the team and this increased the lack of harmony.

That first day under the lash of the new master was a revelation to Gordet's old dog team. François was not a good frontiersman, so everything that he did with the team went badly. He did not get his load lashed well in place and it was also topheavy, and worst of all with his own bulky form there was about a third too much weight. But for all his own shortcomings the team had to pay.

It was the only animate thing in sight so he could best vent his ill temper upon it. He did not get started until nine o'clock, so he drove mercilessly until noon to make up. A good driver of either dogs or horses occasionally gives his animals a chance to breathe and rest, but not so. The Pig. He drove the team as he would have driven an automobile. He did not get tired himself sitting upon the sled cracking his long whip and swearing at the team in Canuck, so he saw no reason why the team should.

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 By noon all of the team with the exception of Wolf and Silversheene were thoroughly tired. But these two dogs were seemingly made of iron. By this desperate driving François had covered twenty miles.

At noon he stopped for half an hour to make hot coffee and eat his lunch. For the first time in the history of the Gordet team they got to fighting in the harness; this was when Wolf attempted to punish Silversheene for getting over his traces.

As leader of the team Wolf was supreme, but Silversheene thought he had been all right so fought back furiously, and a lively battle ensued. François rushed upon the two dogs and with the butt of his whip soon restored order, but this was the first of many battles.

When they finally made camp that first night François had covered forty miles which is a good day's run, but he had tired the team more than Gene would have done in a week.

It was strange, too, how soon the team felt

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 the loss of the master will of Gene. The will that had dominated them and made them go straight. The will that had made them as one dog. With the coming of the new master the team seemed to disintegrate, to go to pieces; and instead of a team it was eight individual dogs. Each pulling in his own way and doing as he wished so far as he could.

Wolf at once divined this fact and sought with all his might to keep the team intact.

It was strange how much he felt his responsibility. He seemed to know that this brute of a master could not control the team and make it work, and it was up to him.

Every ambitious dog aspires for the lead position.

Silversheene was dominant in every fiber of his being. He had come of a strain of sled dogs that had battled with snow and ice and cold, and he had inherited their dominant traits.

Silversheene had long chafed under the leadership of Wolf, yet Gene had re-

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 strained him. But now he felt that this restraint was gone, and he openly defied Wolf and hindered and balked him in the government of the team.

So it was a disorderly and rebellious dog team that sought their beds in the snow on that first night of the rule of. The Pig.

The following morning at harnessing up time Ginger was missing. Wolf finally routed him out of the snow where he had been trying to escape harnessing. This was an unheard—of thing in a sled dog. Usually the life in the traces is the greatest joy that the dog knows. He will run until he drops dead in his harness. Sled dogs have often died of a broken heart simply because they were unable to keep their places in the traces.

But not so Ginger, for he openly shirked and tried to evade his work.

Old Wolf fell upon him like a fury and punishing severely drove him whimpering to his place in the team.

Silversheene tried to defend Ginger, al-

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 though he hated and despised him at heart, and he and Wolf got into another fight. At this François rushed upon them with the butt of his whip.

"By Gar! What you tam dogs t'ink! You t'ink I keep a dog-fight team. By Gar, I keep you to work. You tam fighters."

All the time he had been laying about with the butt of his whip and soon order was restored. But from that time forward open and relentless war existed between Wolf and Silversheene.

That day François once more covered forty miles, but he was merely taking it out of his fine team. With his whip and his curses he made the miles and not by the good will of the dogs.

In the old days under Gene the work had been their greatest joy. Each dog was as eager for the day's run when harnessed as Gene was to have his work well done. But now it was different.

This man did not love them. He was not

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 just. He was not merciful but drove with his long whip and his curses.

So life went on day after day. Each morning there was the harnessing up of a team that hated the trail and wanted to shirk and get away from this drudgery. Each day they were driven cruelly and brutally until they often lay down in the harness and refused to move. Each night they fought like wolves over the dried fish in spite of all old Wolf could do, and after feeding time they went sullenly to their beds in the snow, or wearily to linger about the campfire. With each day the dissensions among the dogs grew and the rancor between Wolf and Silversheene increased until finally François had to put Silversheene back as the wheel dog. This almost broke Silversheene's heart and he laid it up against Wolf as another thing that he would some day punish him for.

By the end of the first week François had covered about three hundred miles. Three of the dogs had gone lame and limped pain-

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 fully along in their harnesses without doing much towards pulling the load. This made the work for the rest all the harder.

Finally on the eighth day poor Billy, who was all willingness, and about the only dog who had not shirked, fell in the traces and could not rise. So after whipping him until he saw he could not get up François left him there upon the trail and proceeded without him.

For a mile they could hear his pitiful howls at being left alone. That night Billy came limping into camp after them. He had regained his wind and courage and the following morning was again back in his place.

But in the middle of the forenoon he again gave out and was once more abandoned.

This time François had the grace to shoot him and the team went forward without good-natured Billy. Billy who had stayed in the traces until his strength was spent and his ability to draw his load was gone.

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 With increasing discomfort for both team and driver another week dragged by. Ginger and Whirlwind had both gone lame and were little more than figureheads in the team. It is a fact that usually southland dogs cannot stand such terrific strain as can the northland Huskies. But François did not look after their feet or seek to recuperate them. He simply whipped and cursed them in all the strange cuss words of his picturesque patois.

Just two weeks from the morning on which they started, while François was trying desperately to get this snarling, fighting, discordant team in harness, Ginger suddenly went mad. He gave no evidence of what was about to happen.

But without the slightest warning he rushed headlong at Wolf. He snapped blindly this way and that and his jaws dripped froth. Wolf at once recognized the dangerous malady and fled for his life. So Ginger turned upon Silversheene and narrowly missed biting him.

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 But Silversheene with great presence of mind sprang aside, and as the dog rushed by caught him by the throat. Something, which was wiser than he, told him that his only safety was in holding on, so he held on grimly, although Ginger struggled frantically until François shot the afflicted dog. The team was very lucky to escape so easily. But this feat of Silversheene's so pleased François that he promoted him to the lead and put Wolf back as wheel dog.

The following morning witnessed open rebellion and defiance in François' dog team, such as spelled its immediate dissolution. Wolf refused to go to the position as wheel dog and allow Silversheene to take his position as lead.

While Silversheene refused to go back to wheel dog and let Wolf have the lead position François cursed them in all the curses available in his picturesque Canuck. He struck at them with his whip but they kept just out of reach. He threw clubs at them, and finally, in a fit of great anger, began

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 shooting at them. This caused both dogs to run for their lives. Then François sat down on his sled and cried profusely and comforted himself with a long pull at his whiskey bottle.

This sad experience at once convinced François that he could no longer drive the team with Silversheene and Wolf in it. So he then and there laid a plan by which he could rid himself of one of the dogs and at the same time get double his price.

Finally both Wolf and Silversheene came sneaking back and after considerable coaxing they were harnessed with Wolf in the lead and Silversheene next to him. But even so they snarled and snapped at each other whenever there was opportunity.

"By Gar, you tam dogs. Pretty soon I give you all the fight you want. You growl, you fool, you bite if you want. Pretty soon, François, he feex you. You get fight enough to satisfy pretty quick."

That day François drove as far as his whip and cursing could get him and at

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