wild beast
tamer in a menagerie as the result of your tussle with Jack; for his
strong wolf strain and his enormous strength certainly made him a
formidable opponent. Yet you never tied nor whipped him."

"That had been tried constantly, with no success, and some danger. You
see, with McMillan's disposition, such treatment only made him more
defiant, without in the least breaking his spirit. I knew of course that
he would have to be conquered, and conquered completely, or become an
outlaw against whom every one would turn; but the punishment would have
to be more vital and less humiliating than a beating. It won't do to
embitter an animal any more than it will a person. You have to leave a
certain self-respect and give him a fair chance."

And more than a fair chance Jack had received in that thrilling moment
when the wiry little Scotchman, cool and determined, had faced the huge
brute whose nature, harking back to the wild, threw off the shackles of
generations of suppression and training, and rose to meet his hereditary
enemy--opposing fierce resentment to all efforts of control.

For an instant the man and dog had paused, each seeming to gauge the
strength of the other--then the instinct to kill, that heritage from the
past, when the timber wolf gave no quarter, rose supreme; and the dog
sprang forward, the wide open jaws revealing his sharp, white teeth and
cruelly broken tusks. Suddenly the weight of Allan's body was hurled
against him; strong supple fingers closed upon his neck, and with an
unexpected wrench Jack McMillan's head was buried in a drift of soft,
deep snow. He struggled violently to wrest himself from the iron grasp;
madly he fought for freedom; but always there was that slow, deadly
tightening at the throat. Panting and choking, he had made one last
desperate attempt to break the grip that pinned him down; and then lay
spent and inert except for an occasional hoarse gasp, or convulsive
movement of his massive frame.

At length the man had risen, and the dog, feeling himself loosed, and
able to get his breath, staggered uncertainly to his feet, turned, and
stood bravely facing his foe. There was, for a brief period, the
suggestion of a renewed conflict in the dog's attitude. With the foam
dripping from his mouth, quivering in every muscle; but still erect,
exhausted but not cowed, he waited for the next move--and when it came
McMillan had met his master. Not because of the force in the vise-like
f