the girl's hands. "An ornery critter like
thet-thar pup ought to be kept shet-up," he concluded spitefully.

The girl lifted a face in which blue eyes were flaming.

"It's you ought to be shut up, you horrible man!" she cried. "And you
will be. I'll see to that."

"Now, don't be plumb foolish," Zeke expostulated. "The varmint hain't
hurt none--not a mite, ma'am."

"Beast!" the girl ejaculated, concisely.

Zeke retorted with high indignation.

"I jest nacher'ly hain't a-goin' to stand still an' say 'Thank ye!'
while I'm bein' et up piecemeal by no dawg--specially one with a face
like his'n."

He would have said more, but paused with mouth agape, eyes widening,
his expression horror-stricken. For, just then, the bull-terrier
snorted loudly, and unclosed its red eyes. The clenched jaws, too,
relaxed. Thus released, the broad strip of jeans fluttered to the
floor. Its movement caught Zeke's gaze. He recognized the cloth. The
ghastly truth burst in his brain. In an agony of embarrassment, he
clasped his hands to that portion of his person so fearfully
despoiled. Moved by his sudden silence, impressed perhaps by some
subtle impact of this new and dreadful emotion on his part, the girl
looked up. She, too, had noted subconsciously the fall of the cloth
from the dog's jaws. Now as she saw the young man's face of fire and
observed his peculiar posture, she understood. Her own crimson cheeks
rivaled those of the afflicted one. She turned and bent low over her
reviving pet. Her shoulders were shaking, Zeke was shuddering.

CHAPTER IV

The conventions of dress are sometimes pestilential. If any doubt this
truth let him remember the nightmares wherein his nudity made torment.
And, while remembering the anguish such lack of clothing has
occasioned in dreams, let him think with pity on the suffering of Zeke
whose plight was real. It was in sooth, a predicament to strain the
_savoir faire_ of the most polished courtier. Perhaps, the behavior of
the mountaineer was as discreet as any permitted by the unfortunate
circumstances, and could hardly have been improved on by the Admirable
Crichton himself. He simply retained an immobile pose, facing the
girl, with his whole soul concentrated in desire that the earth should
split asunder to engulf him. The tide of his misery was at its flood,
so that it grew no worse when some deck-hands thrust the forward doors
open, and a policeman bounded into the cabin, drawn revolver in