half of Jan's
magnificent frame lay fully exposed halfway down the slope from Bill's
tree. Very deliberately now Bill rose, and moved toward Jan, walking
with dainty, springy steps like a cat at play. In all that countryside
Bill possessed an absolute monopoly of springiness and elasticity. But,
at their most sluggish, dogs in the northland are, of course, more alert
than the home-staying dogs of civilization. Snip snarled fatly as Bill
passed with his catlike tread. Jan, the crimson haw of one eye gleaming
as its lid lifted, growled savagely but low as Bill approached him. His
big limbs twitched convulsively and the hair about his shoulders
stiffened; but so grossly full-fed was he that he did not rise, though
the note of his growl ascended toward that of a snarl as Bill came
nearer.

Here again, and for the hundredth time that night, Bill's icy
self-control, his really marvelous command of his impulses, was sorely
tried. His enemy actually was recumbent in the snow before him, while
he, taut as a strung bow, was most exquisitely poised for the attack.
Why fight? Why not swift delicious murder, and the gush of the loathed
one's throat-blood between his fangs? Bill knew well why it must not be.
But given the knowledge, how many dogs in his case, nay, how many men
similarly tempted, could have forced discretion to master impulse?

Attempted murder must mean furious uproar, and uproar must mean
attempted rescue; and attempted rescue, so close to camp, might well rob
Bill of the life he claimed. It might leave Jan alive and himself
clubbed into insensibility. In the fire-lighted brain of Bill was
understanding of all things, and the determination to take no chances
with regard to this the greatest killing of his life.

And so, with the most delicate care, the most minutely measured
instalments of provocation, he proceeded to "crowd" the infinitely
sluggish Jan. So sunk in sloth was Jan that he, who three hours earlier
had been pricked to fury by an insolent glance from Bill's eyes, now
positively submitted to the actual touch of Bill's nose on his hocks
before he would budge. And then with a long snarl he only edged himself
a yard or two away.

"Be still, be still! For God's sake give peace!" his heavy movements
seemed to say.

Peace! And in Bill's lighted brain the roar of furnaces and the
remorseless whirl of swiftly driven machinery!

With the fathomless scorn of the self-mastering ascetic for the sodden
debauch