evolent joy gleamed in the big
husky's red eyes as he plunged upon the terrier. One thrust of his
mighty shoulder sent the little chap spinning on his back, and there was
the throat-hold exposed to Sourdough's practised fangs. His bitter
temper had been carefully inflamed in advance, and demanded now the
sacrifice of blood, warm life-blood. His wide jaws flashed in upon the
terrier's throat just as O'Malley's boot took him in the rear.

"If ye touch that dog again, my man, I'll break your jaw for you," came
from the sergeant in a hoarse growl.

Now O'Malley was a disciplined man, and the sergeant was his official
superior. But, as it happened, the matter was now taken out of his
hands. Jan, who, before the sergeant's arrival, had been lying stretched
in the dust thirty paces distant, had risen then and stood stiffly,
watching Sourdough with raised hackles. At the moment that the husky's
fangs touched the skin of Micky's throat, Jan was upon him like a
battering-ram, shoulder to shoulder, with an impact that sent the husky
rolling, all four feet in the air, a position in which no barracks dog
had ever before seen Sourdough, and one in which any of them would have
given a day's food to find him. For that is the one position in which
even a Sourdough may with safety be attacked.

But Jan apparently (and very recklessly) scorned to avail himself of
this splendid opportunity. His own great weight and swiftly silent
movement had been responsible for Sourdough's complete downfall. And
now, while O'Malley grabbed his terrier in both arms, thankful the
little beast's throat was whole, Jan stood stiff-legged, with stiffly
arched neck and bristling hackles, glaring down at Sourdough, with the
expression which, among pugilistic school-boys, goes with the question,
"Have you had enough?"

"Enough!" Any such question could but prove abysmal ignorance of
Sourdough's quality. The big husky was not scratched, and of fighting he
could hardly be given enough while his heart continued to beat. Before,
he had been angered. Before, he had loathed and hated Jan. And now Jan
had rolled him over on his back as though he were a helpless whelp. Jan
had glared menacingly at him, at Sourdough, while he, the acknowledged
canine master and terror of that countryside, had all four feet in the
air. A flame of hatred surged about the husky's heart. His snarl as he
bounded to his feet was truly awe-inspiring. His writhen lips drew up
and back crescen