ward the end of Jan's twentieth or thirtieth move, when his
subconsciousness was simply one ache of continuous boding discomfort,
while still his outer consciousness barely permitted the lifting of his
heavy eyelids, now Bill, that incarnation of calculating watchfulness,
gathered up his magnificent muscles for the act which should bring the
first instalment of his reward, the guerdon of his season of
super-canine self-mastery. In another second or so Jan would sink down
again to sleep. Bill did not snarl or growl. He needed no trumpet-call.
He made no more sound than a cat makes in leaping for a bird. Yet he
rushed upon the blinking, half-comatose Jan as though impelled thereto
from the mouth of a spring cannon.

There was no possibility that in his then condition Jan could withstand
the shock of that furious impact. And he did not. Indeed, he spun
through the air feet uppermost, and Bill, in his eyes a cold flame of
elation, knew that when he did reach earth it would be to yield the
throat-hold at which your fighting-dog always aims, and to die the death
which he, Bill, had long pictured for the usurper of his office.

XXIX

THE FIGHT IN THE WOODS

The one thing for which Bill had made no allowance was the thing of
which he could not possibly have any knowledge; the strength of Jan's
subconscious self which had now been wide awake for some time.

During the fraction of time which Jan's body spent in mid-air this
subconscious self of his worked several miracles simultaneously. It
jagged the whole of Jan's outer consciousness into the widest
wakefulness. It explained to him the inner meaning of most things that
had happened since Jean shot the moose. And acting through a muscular
system which, always fine, had been made well-nigh perfect during the
past six weeks, it succeeded in accomplishing the patently impossible
and bringing Jan to earth again almost erect, certainly on his four feet
and with spread jaws pointing toward Bill--instead of landing him on the
broad of his back where Bill had quite properly and logically expected
to see him.

Now began the fight between Bill and Jan, ex-leader and leader; the
veteran northland dog, comparatively empty and exquisitely poised and
prepared; and the new-comer from the outside world, terribly full,
heavy, and unprepared. All, or nearly all, had fallen out as Bill had
planned. Their distance from the camp was a safe one; Jan was grossly
bloated and he, Bill, wa