avage was in
the midst of a fierce scrimmage. Two farm dogs were attacking him.
They were both half-bred sheep-dogs. One was making futile attempts to
get a hold upon the stranger, and Neche was shaking the other as a
terrier would shake a rat. And Andy, the choreman, was lambasting the
intruder with the business end of a two-tine hay-fork, and shouting
frightful curses at him in a strong American accent.

As Hervey came upon the scene, Neche hurled his victim from him,
either dead or dying, for the dog lay quite still where it fell upon
the snow. Then, impervious to the onslaught of the choreman, he seized
the other dog.

"Come out of it, Andy," cried Hervey.

The hired man ceased his efforts at once, glad to be done with the
savage. Hervey then ran up to the infuriated husky, and dealt him two
or three terrible kicks.

The dog turned round instantly. His fangs were dripping with blood,
and he snarled fiercely, his baleful eyes glowing with ferocity. But
he slunk off when he recognized his assailant, allowing the second
dog to run for its life, howling with canine fear.

Andy went over to the dog that was stretched upon the snow.

"Guess 'e's done, boss," he said, looking up at Hervey as the latter
came over to his side. "Say, that's about the slickest scrapper round
these parts. Gee-whizz, 'e went fur me like the tail end o' a cyclone
when I took your plug to the barn. It was they curs that kind o'
distracted his attention. Mebbe thar's more wolf nor dog in him.
Mebbe, I sez."

"Yes, he's a devil-tempered husky," said Hervey. "I'll have to shoot
him one of these days."

"Wa'al, I do 'lows that it's a mercy 'e ain't got no more'n three
shanks. Mackinaw! but he's handy."

The four women had watched the scene from the kitchen door. Hervey
came over to where they were standing.

"I'm sorry, mother," he said. "Neche has killed one of your dogs. He's
a fiend for fighting. I've a good mind to shoot him now."

"No, don't go for to do that," said his mother. "We oughtn't to have
sent Andy to take your horse. I expect the beast thought he was doing
right."

"He's a brute. Curse him!"

Prudence said nothing. Now she moved a little away from the house and
talked to the dog. He was placidly, and with no show of penitence,
lying down and licking a laceration on one of his front legs. He
occasionally shook his great head, and stained the snow with the blood
which dripped from his fierce-looking ears. He paused in h