the snow was hard.
Perhaps they were attempting to tear it away with some crude implement, a
stick or board.

As he listened, he heard the whine of a dog. So this was it? One of their
hounds had tracked him down. They were probably afraid of him and would
wait for him to come out.

"In that case," he whispered to himself, "they will wait a long, long
time."

He did not desert his post. To be caught in the far end of the mine meant
almost certain torture and death.

As he listened, he heard the dog's whine again and again, and it was
always accompanied by the scratching sound. What could that mean? A hound
which has found the lair of its prey does not whine. He bays his message,
telling out to all the world that he has cornered his prey.

The more the boy thought of it, the more certain he became that this was
not one of the Russian hounds. But if not, then what dog was it? Perhaps
one of Johnny Thompson's which had escaped. If it were, he would be a
friend.

Of one thing Pant became more and more positive: there were no men with
the dog. From this conclusion he came to a decision on a definite course
of action. If the dog was alone, whether friend or foe, he would
eventually attract attention and that would bring disaster. The logical
thing to do would be to pull out the snow-cake door and admit the beast.
If he were one of the Russians wolf-hounds--Pant drew a short-bladed knife
from his belt; an enemy's dog would be silenced with that.

With trembling fingers he gripped the white door and drew it quickly away.
The next instant a furry monster leaped toward him.

It was a tense moment. In the flash of a second, he could not determine
the character of the dog. His knife gleamed in his hand. To delay was
dangerous. The beast might, in a twinkle, be at his throat.

He did not strike. With a supple motion he sprang to one side as the dog
shot past him. By the time he had turned back toward the entrance, Pant
recognized him as a white man's dog.

"Well, howdy, old sport," he exclaimed, as the dog leaped upon him, ready
to pull him to pieces out of pure joy.

"Down, down, sir!"

The dog dropped at his feet. In another minute the snow-door was in its
place again.

"Well, old chap," said Pant, peering at the dog through his goggles. "You
came to share fortunes with me, did you? The little yellow men had a
tiger; I've got a dog. That's better. A tiger'd leave you; a dog never.
Besides, old top, you'll tell me w