with striped trousers tucked into them,
and on his coat were bits of metal which caught the last gleams of the
sun. Peter knew nothing of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. But he
sensed danger, and he remained very quiet, without moving a muscle of
his head or body, while the stranger looked about, with a hand on his
unbuttoned pistol holster. Not until he entered the cabin, and closed
the door after him, did Peter move back into the deeper gloom of the
forest. And then, silent as a fox, he skulked through cover to the
foot-trail, and down the trail to the ford, across which Jolly Roger
would come from Cragg's Ridge.

There was still half an hour of daylight when Jolly Roger arrived. Peter
did not, as usual, run to the edge of the bank to meet him. He remained
sitting stolidly on his haunches, with his ears flattened, and in his
whole attitude no sign of gladness at his master's coming. With every
instinct of caution developed to the highest degree within him, Jolly
Roger was lightning quick to observe the significance of small things.
He spoke to Peter, caressed him with his hand, and moved on along the
foot-trail toward the cabin. Peter fell in behind him moodily, and after
a few moments stopped, and squatted on his haunches again. Jolly Roger
was puzzled.

"What is it, Peter?" he asked. "Are you afraid of that wolverine--"

Peter whined softly; but even as he whined, his ears were flat, and his
eyes filled with a red light as they glared down the trail beyond the
outlaw. Jolly Roger turned and went on, until he disappeared around
a twist in the path. There he stopped, and peered back. Peter was not
following him, but still sat where he had left him. A quicker breath
came to Jolly Roger's lips, and he went back to Peter. For fully a
minute he stood beside him, watching and listening, and not once did the
reddish glare in Peter's eyes leave the direction of the cabin. Jolly
Roger's eyes had grown very bright, and suddenly he dropped on his knees
beside Peter, and spoke softly, close up to his flattened ear.

"You say it isn't a wolverine, Peter? Is that what you're trying to tell
me?"

Peter's teeth clicked, and he whimpered, never taking his eyes from
ahead.

There was a cold light in Jolly Roger's eyes as he rose to his feet, and
he turned swiftly and quietly into the edge of the forest, and in the
gloom that was gathering there his hand carried the big automatic. Peter
followed him now, and Jolly Roger swu