to adjust their clothing, and to find some garment for the man, since
he wore only shirt and trousers. But the bull-terrier, for a wonder,
did not follow its mistress. Instead, it sat on its haunches close to
the mountaineer, and muzzled his hand. Zeke pulled the dog's ears
gently.

"That thump I gin ye must 'a' struck plumb down to yer heart, an' made
a right-smart change in yer affections. Ye wa'n't so dummed friendly
when ye tuck thet-thar hunk out o' my pants."

The dog whined an answer, and crept fawningly into the mountaineer's
lap, where it nestled contentedly. It was thus that the girls,
returning with a rain-coat, found the two, and they stared in
surprise, for the bull-terrier was none too amiable with strangers.

"I never knew Chubbie make friends like that before," Josephine
exclaimed. She looked in fresh curiosity upon the wholesome face with
the regular features, rather stern in repose, but now softened by a
smile. "It must be because he helped us pull you out. We couldn't have
done it without him. That makes you belong to him, in a way."

Zeke stared at the dog, with new respect.

"The darned son of a gun!" he ejaculated, gravely. "I reckon," he
continued after a meditative pause, "the little cuss felt like he owed
me somethin' fer sp'ilin' my jeans. That crack I gin him put the fear
o' God into his bosom, so to speak. 'The more ye beat 'em, the better
they be.'"

Josephine started at his words. Without a hat, the dark curls had
given a look so different to the face that, until now, she had not
recognized the man of the ferry-boat.

"Why," she cried, "you are the one!" She turned to the bewildered
Florence. Her blue eyes were flashing; her voice was hard. "He's the
creature that almost killed Chubbie. And to think we troubled to save
him!"

"That hell-fired pup o' your'n took a holt on me first," Zeke
protested wrathfully, forgetful of his reconciliation with the dog.
Then, a plaintive whine recalled him. He smiled whimsically, as he
patted the bull-terrier's head, which was lifted toward him fondly.
The anger died out of his face, and he smiled. "I've hearn these-hyar
dumb critters git things 'bout right by instinct, somehow. Yer dawg's
done fergive me. Won't you-all, mum?"

Josephine hesitated. The ingenuous appeal touched her. Only pride held
her from yielding.

"An', besides," Zeke went on, "ye was a-sayin' as how the dawg kind o'
felt I belonged to him like, bein' he he'ped pull me out o