ordinary tiger affair.

They were tired and sun drained. Skag laid down his blankets in the
early dusk and there were hours of sleep before he was awakened by the
different activities at the water hole. Nels apparently had been awake
for some time, studying the separate noises in a moveless calm. Skag
touched his chest affectionately. A panther or some smaller cat had
just made a kill among the rocks above the pool, yet Nels' hackles had
not lifted in answer to the bawl of the stricken beast.

"Spotted deer possibly," Skag muttered. Then he added to the Dane:

"You're an all-right chap to camp with, son. You'd sit it out alone
until they brought the fracas to our doorstep rather than disturb a
friend's sleep. That's what I call being a white man."

Skag always thought of Cadman as the unparallelled comrade for field
work. In fact, he had learned many of the little niceties of the open
from the much-travelled American artist and writer--finished
performances of comradeship, a regard for the unwritten things,
reverence for those rights which never could be brought to the point of
words, but which give delicacy and delectation to hours together
between men. Skag never ceased to delight in the silence and
self-control of the Dane. The dog rippled and thrilled with all the
fundamental elements of friendship and fidelity, but his big body
seemed able to contain them with a dignity that endeared him to the one
who understood. Bhanah's work in the training of this fellow was
nothing short of consummate art.

Breakfasting together, Skag refreshed Nels' mind with the work of the
day--that it meant Tiger, that all lesser affairs might come and go.
The big fellow was up and eager to be off, before Skag finished
strapping his blanket roll. There was rather a memorable moment of
sentiency just there. Skag was on one knee as he glanced into Nels'
face. His own powers were highly awake that minute, so that he
actually sensed what was in the dog's mind--that they must go down to
the pool for a look before moving on. The thing was verified a moment
later when Nels led the way down into the dim ravine to the margin of
the water.

Tiger tracks--full four feet on the soft black margin of the pool--a
huge beast, unmarked by any toe scar or eccentricity. Long body,
heavy, a perfect thing of his kind. It was as if the tiger had stood
some moments listening. Yet the natives declared that only the mated
pair operated in