but for Willis.

Willis was not of the type of men who waste breath over repetitions of
exclamation of surprise. As Jan slowly heaved up his body, in a last
effort at duty, Willis swiftly lowered his own body, dropping upon his
knees, both arms widely extended. And it was at Willis's broad chest,
and between his strongly supporting arms, that the wreck of Jan plunged,
in response to what must be reckoned by far the greatest effort, till
then, that the great hound had ever made.

And if the thing had ended there, this incident alone proved that when
he chose the tent, before any of the more ambitious habitations near by,
Jan had chosen what was assuredly the best place for him in all that
town.

XXXIII

BACK TO THE TRAIL

Late that same evening two men who looked in to see Jim Willis found him
playing sick-nurse to all that remained of the strangest-looking hound
ever seen in those parts. His stove was well alight, and near by, on the
bed, were a spoon, a flask of whisky, a dish of hot milk, and some
meat-juice in a jar.

There was some talk about the hound, and then the bigger of the visitors
said:

"Well, Jim, what's it to be? Will you tackle the job, or won't you? You
must admit, if the trail _is_ bad, the money's pretty good. Will you
go?"

Willis nodded shortly. That meant acquiescence in the statement that the
money was "good." Then he pointed to the hound, whose head rested on his
knee. (He himself was sitting on the ground.)

"Well, no, Mike; I guess I won't," he said, slowly. "You say I'd have to
hit out to-morrow; and I reckon I'm going to try an' yank this feller
back into the world before I go anywheres."

"But, hell, Jim," said the other man, a little petulantly. "I like a
dawg as well as the next man, and this one does seem to have been some
husky in his time. Only--well, you admit yourself the money's good,
and--say, I won't try any bluffs with you. There ain't another man in
the place we could trust to do the job. Come, now, is it a go, Jim?"

Willis pondered a minute, eying Jan's head the while.

"Well, Mike," he said at length, "I've kinder given my word to this
feller here. He's a sort of a guest o' mine, in a way--in my tent, and
that. No, Mike, I'll not hit out to-morrow, not for any money. But if
you'd care to leave it for a week or ten days--ten days, say, I'll go.
An' that's the best I can do for ye. Think it over, an' let me know
to-morrow."

And with that the two men