the natural thing for a one-man dog to do. But
the unexpectedness of it held McKay speechless, and at first a little
disappointed. It was as if Peter had deliberately betrayed a trust.
During the storm and flight of the night McKay had thought of him as the
one connecting link remaining between him and the girl he loved. He
had left Peter to fill his place, to guard and watch and keep alive
the memory of the man who was gone. For him there had been something of
consolation in this giving up of his comradeship to Nada. And Peter had
turned traitor.

Even Peter seemed to sense the argument and condemnation that was
passing behind McKay's unsmiling eyes. He did not move, but lay squatted
on his belly, with his nose straight out on the ground between his
forepaws. It was his attitude of self-immolation. His acknowledgment of
the other's right to strike with lash or club. Yet in his eyes, bright
and steady behind his mop of whiskers, Jolly Roger saw a prayer.

Without a word he held out his arms. It was all Peter needed, and in
a moment he was hugged up close against McKay. After all, there was
a mighty something that reached from heart to heart of these two, and
Jolly Roger said, with a sound that was half laugh and half sob in his
throat,

"Pied-Bot, you devil--you little devil--"

His fingers closed in the cloth about Peter's neck, and his heart jumped
when he saw what it was--a piece of Nada's dress. Peter, realizing that
at last the importance of his mission was understood, waited in eager
watchfulness while his master untied the knot. And in another moment,
out in the clean and glorious sun that had followed storm, McKay held
the shining tress of Nada's hair.

It was a real sob that broke in his throat now, and Peter saw him crush
the shining thing to his face, and hold it there, while strange quivers
ran through his strong shoulders, and a wetness that was not rain
gathered in his eyes.

"God bless her!" he whispered. And then he said, "I wish I was a kid,
Peter--a kid. Because--if I ever wanted to cry--IT'S NOW."

In his face, even with the tears and the strange quivering of his lips,
Peter saw a radiance that was joy. And McKay stood up, and looked south,
back over the trail he had followed through the blackness and storm
of night. He was visioning things. He saw Nada in Father John's cabin,
urging Peter out into the wild tumult of thunder and lightning with
that precious part of her which she knew he would