, seeing the ugly face within a foot
of his own, withdrew a step, and without waiting for the formality of an
introduction, struck "The Wolf" a very sharp blow upon the end of his
nose, at the same time remarking, "Howl, then, you beast."

Long John did howl. Clapping his hands over his face, he retreated,
roaring, from the store, amid the enthusiastic plaudits of those
present.

Thus it was that the name of "The Wolf" fell into disuse and the title,
"Yellow Pup," was substituted; and if at any time thereafter Long John
became obstreperous or in any way made himself objectionable, it was
only necessary for some one in company to say "Bow-wow," when the
offender would forthwith efface himself, with promptness and dispatch.

This was the man who came striding down upon Joe and me, looking as
though he were going to eat us up at a mouthful and think nothing of it.
Doubtless he supposed that, being country boys, we had not heard the
story of Bertie Van Ness, for, advancing close to us he said fiercely:

"What you doing here? Be off home! Do you know who _I_ am? I'm 'The
Wolf'!"

"So I've heard," said I, calmly; a remark which took all the wind out of
the gentleman's sails at once. He collapsed with ridiculous suddenness,
and with a sheepish grin, said, "I was only just a-trying you, boys, to
see if you was easy scart."

"Well, you see we're not," remarked Joe. "What are _you_ doing up here?
Pretty early for prospecting, isn't it?"

"Not any earlier for me than it is for you," replied Long John, with a
glance at the hatchet in Joe's hand. He was sharp enough.

Joe laughed. "That's true," said he. "I suppose we're both hunting the
same thing. Did you find any of it in that hole up there?"

Long John hesitated. He would have preferred to lie about it, probably,
but knowing that we could go and see for ourselves in a couple of
minutes, he made a virtue of necessity and replied:

"Yes, there's some of it there; but it don't amount to much. I guess the
vein ain't worth looking for. Come and see."

We walked forward and looked into the hole Long John had chopped, when
we saw that his prospector's instinct had hit upon the right place
again. Here also was a black streak an inch thick below the yellow sand.

It was evident that the vein of galena was somewhere up-stream, though
we ourselves were unable to judge from the amount of the deposit whether
it was likely to be big or little. Long John might be telling the truth