air.

"Some dog, son," he said. "The best I ever seen." He flashed a swift
glance at Percival who stood at his side, and saw that his face was
white as death, that his lips were drawn into a thin, bloodless line,
and that little beads of sweat stood out like dew on the white brow. But
even as he looked, the stenographer stretched out his hand and laid it
on the great dog's head, and he, too, stroked the silvery hair of the
great ruff.

Waseche, noticing that Connie cast an inquiring glance at the newcomer,
introduced him, abruptly: "Son, this here's Roarin' Mike O'Reilly, from
over on the Tanana. He's our new stenographer, an' while he goes an'
gits on his reg'lar clothes, you an' me an' the Injun will knock off fer
noon, an' go over to the cabin."

During the preparation of the midday meal Connie told Waseche of how he
had found 'Merican Joe, starved and unconscious in his little
snow-covered shelter tent, and of how, out of gratitude, the Indian had
presented him with Leloo. Waseche eyed the great ruffed animal sombrely,
as Connie dwelt upon his curiously mixed nature--how he ran the ridges
at night at the head of the wolf pack, and of how, ripping and slashing,
he had defended his helpless master against the fangs of those same
wolves.

"Well, son," he drawled, when the boy had concluded, "he's the finest
brute I ever seen--barrin' none. But keep your eye on him. If he ever
gits his dates mixed--if he ever turns wolf when he'd ort to be
dog--_good-night_!"

"I'll watch him," smiled the boy. "And, Waseche, where do you think
'Merican Joe came from?"

"Well," grinned his big partner, "fetchin' such a lookin' brute-beast as
that along with him--I'd hate to say."

"He came from beyond the Mackenzie! He knows the country."

"That's prob'ly why he come away," answered Waseche, dryly.

"But he's going back--he's going with me. We're going to hit the trail
for Dawson tomorrow, and hit across the mountains by way of Bonnet Plume
Pass, and outfit at Fort Norman on the Mackenzie, and then strike out
for the eastern end of Great Bear Lake, and the barren grounds. We're
going to trap the rest of the winter and next summer we're going to
prospect and figure on starting a trading post. We've got it all worked
out."

"Oh, jest like that, eh? It ort to be right smart of a little ja'nt.
With nothin' between Dawson an' Fort Norman--an' nothin' beyond."

"We might make another strike. And if we don't we can trap."

"Yup,