had used such a method. With a huge effort the hound
managed to twist his body in such a way as to gain foothold for his hind
feet; and then, by the exercise of sheer muscular strength, he curved
his neck and shoulder inch by inch (while still his blood slaked
Sourdough's thirst) until with sudden swiftness he was able to grip the
husky's near fore leg between his jaws, just on and below the knee.

Then Jan concentrated his whole being into the service of his jaws.
Sourdough gave a cry that was almost a scream, and his jaws flew apart,
dripping Jan's blood. Jan's teeth sank a shade deeper. Sourdough pivoted
round in agony, snapping at the air, and emitting an unearthly yowling,
snarling, grunting cry the while. Jan's teeth locked together, and then
were sharply withdrawn, leaving a very thoroughly smashed and punctured
fore leg to dangle by its skin and sinew.

During the past few seconds the sergeant had been raining down blows of
his cane on Jan's head. Now O'Malley grabbed Jan by his steel collar.

"By hivens, sergeant!" he spluttered, "if ye'll meet me afterwards,
without your stripes on, I'll--I'll give ye what Jan here'd give your
bloody wolf, if ye had the honesty to l'ave 'em to ut."

Jan dragged back momentarily, and--in justice to Sourdough's gameness,
be it said--the husky struggled hard from his master's entwining arms to
be at the enemy again on three legs. But O'Malley's pleadings were
urgent and his right arm strong (the left was curled round Micky
Doolan); and so it befell that, while Sergeant Moore remained tending
his wounded favorite, O'Malley, leading Jan, whose front was bleeding
badly, as were his shoulders and one ear, arrived at the barracks gates
just as Dick Vaughan trotted up to them, on his return from duty in
Regina.

"My hat!" cried Dick, as he dismounted. "Has he killed the sergeant's
dog?"

"He would ha' done, the darlin', if the sergeant had bin a man, in place
o' the mad divil he is," replied O'Malley.

XXIV

PROMOTION

For a week and more after the fight the barracks saw nothing of
Sourdough, whose leg was being mended for him in the stable of a
veterinary surgeon in Regina. Sergeant Moore would have made no
difficulty over spending half his pay upon the care of his beloved
husky.

Jan's ills were confined to flesh-wounds, and in any case Dick preferred
to doctor the big hound himself. The story of the fight, and of Sergeant
Moore's not very sporting part therein,