s wealth grew, he would become interested in the
world of politics, and he would----

He was dragged back to the present by a memory of the scene at the
dugout, and quite suddenly he broke into a cold perspiration. He
increased his pace, nor did those pleasant visions again return to
him. It was well past noon when at last he halted for food and rest.

He devoured his simple fare ravenously, but he gained no enjoyment
therefrom. He was moody. At that moment he hated life; he hated
himself for his weak yielding to the pricks of conscience; he hated
the snow and ice about him for their deadening effect upon the world
through which he was passing; he hated the dreadful solitude with
which he was surrounded.

Presently he drew out a pipe. He looked at it for one instant, then
raised it to his nose. He smelt it, and, with a motion of disgust and
a bitter curse, he threw it from him. It reeked of the weed he had
found at the dugout.

Now he was seized with a feverish restlessness and was about to rise
to his feet. Suddenly, out on the still, biting air wailed the
familiar long-drawn note of misery. To his disturbed fancy it came
like a dreadful signal of some awful doom. It echoed in undulating
waves of sound, dying away hardly, as though it were loth to leave its
mournful surroundings. He turned in the direction whence it proceeded,
and slowly into view limped the wounded husky, yelping piteously at
every step.

At that moment the man was scarcely responsible for what he did. He
was beside himself with dread. The solitude was on his nerves, this
haunting dog, his own reflections, all had combined to reduce him to
the verge of nervous prostration. With the last dying sound his heavy
revolver was levelled in the direction of the oncoming hound. There
was a moment's pause, then a shot rang out and the dog stood quite
still. The bullet fell short and only kicked up the snow some yards in
front of the animal, nor did the beast display the least sign of fear.
The man prepared to take another shot, but, as he was about to fire,
his arm dropped to his side, and, with a mirthless laugh, he put the
pistol away.

"The d----d cur seems to know the range of a gun," he muttered, with
an uneasy look at the motionless creature. His words were an apology
to himself, although perhaps he would not have admitted it.

The dog remained in its rigid attitude. Its head was slightly lowered,
and its wicked grey eyes glared ferociously. Its