there any more you know
are good?"

"Denver, come hyar!" yelled Belllounds. A white, yellow-spotted hound
came wagging his tail. "I'll swear by Denver. An' there's one
more--Kane. He's half bloodhound, a queer, wicked kind of dog. He keeps
to himself.... Kane! Come hyar!"

Belllounds tramped around the corral, and finally found the hound in
question, asleep in a dusty hole. Kane was the only beautiful dog in the
lot. If half of him was bloodhound the other half was shepherd, for his
black and brown hair was inclined to curl, and his head had the fine
thoroughbred contour of the shepherd. His ears, long and drooping and
thin, betrayed the hound in him. Kane showed no disposition to be
friendly. His dark eyes, sad and mournful, burned with the fires
of doubt.

Wade haltered Kane, Jim, and Sampson, which act almost precipitated a
fight, and led them out of the corral. Denver, friendly and glad,
followed at the rancher's heels.

"I'll keep them with me an' make lead dogs out of them," said Wade.
"Belllounds, that bunch hasn't had enough to eat. They're half starved."

"Wal, thet's worried me more'n you'll guess," declared Belllounds, with
irritation. "What do a lot of cow-punchin' fellars know about dogs? Why,
they nearly ate Bludsoe up. He wouldn't feed 'em. An' Wils, who seemed
good with dogs, was taken off bad hurt the other day. Lem's been tryin'
to rustle feed fer them. Now we'll give back the dogs you don't want to
keep, an' thet way thin out the pack."

"Yes, we won't need `em all. An' I reckon I'll take the worry of this
dog-pack off your mind."

"Thet's your job, Wade. My orders are fer you to kill off the varmints.
Lions, wolves, coyotes. An' every fall some ole silvertip gits bad, an'
now an' then other bears. Whatever you need in the way of supplies jest
ask fer. We send regular to Kremmlin'. You can hunt fer two months yet,
barrin' an onusual early winter.... I'm askin' you--if my son tramps on
your toes--I'd take it as a favor fer you to be patient. He's only a boy
yet, an' coltish."

Wade divined that was a favor difficult for Belllounds to ask. The old
rancher, dominant and forceful and self-sufficient all his days, had
begun to feel an encroachment of opposition beyond his control. If he
but realized it, the favor he asked of Wade was an appeal.

"Belllounds, I get along with everybody," Wade assured him. "An' maybe I
can help your son. Before I'd reached here I'd heard he was wild, an' so
I'm p