e sand while his captor fastened the end of the hide rope to the
stern of the canoe. Sandy grinned. What was about to happen would be fun
for him. In the Yukon he had learned how to take the spirit out of dogs.

He pushed off, bow foremost. Bracing himself with his paddle he then
began to pull Kazan toward the water. In a few moments Kazan stood with
his forefeet planted in the damp sand at the edge of the stream. For a
brief interval Sandy allowed the babiche to fall slack. Then with a
sudden powerful pull he jerked Kazan out into the water. Instantly he
sent the canoe into midstream, swung it quickly down with the current,
and began to paddle enough to keep the babiche taut about his victim's
neck. In spite of his sickness and injuries Kazan was now compelled to
swim to keep his head above water. In the wash of the canoe, and with
Sandy's strokes growing steadily stronger, his position became each
moment one of increasing torture. At times his shaggy head was pulled
completely under water. At others Sandy would wait until he had drifted
alongside, and then thrust him under with the end of his paddle. He grew
weaker. At the end of a half-mile he was drowning. Not until then did
Sandy pull him alongside and drag him into the canoe. The dog fell limp
and gasping in the bottom. Brutal though Sandy's methods had been, they
had worked his purpose. In Kazan there was no longer a desire to fight.
He no longer struggled for freedom. He knew that this man was his
master, and for the time his spirit was gone. All he desired now was to
be allowed to lie in the bottom of the canoe, out of reach of the club,
and safe from the water. The club lay between him and the man. The end
of it was within a foot or two of his nose, and what he smelled was his
own blood.

For five days and five nights the journey down-stream continued, and
McTrigger's process of civilizing Kazan was continued in three more
beatings with the club, and another resort to the water torture. On the
morning of the sixth day they reached Red Gold City, and McTrigger put
up his tent close to the river. Somewhere he obtained a chain for Kazan,
and after fastening the dog securely back of the tent he cut off the
babiche muzzle.

"You can't put on meat in a muzzle," he told his prisoner. "An' I want
you to git strong--an' fierce as hell. I've got an idee. It's an idee
you can lick your weight in wildcats. We'll pull off a stunt pretty soon
that'll fill our pockets with