hereafter the whole tribe adopted
and protected him, and woe to the Indian dog which molested him. Once
when I was passing the house of this same Lot Tyeen, one of his large
hunting dogs dashed out at Stickeen and began to worry him. Lot rescued
the little fellow, delivered him to me and walked into his house. Soon
he came out with his gun, and before I knew what he was about he had
shot the offending Indian dog--a valuable hunting animal.

Stickeen lacked the obtrusively affectionate manner of many of his
species, did not like to be fussed over, would even growl when our
babies enmeshed their hands in his long hair; and yet, to a degree I
have never known in another dog, he attracted the attention of
everybody and won all hearts.

As instances: Dr. Kendall, "The Grand Old Man" of our Church, during his
visit of 1879 used to break away from solemn counsels with the other
D.D.s and the carpenters to run after and shout at Stickeen. And Mrs.
McFarland, the Mother of Protestant missions in Alaska, often begged us
to give her the dog; and, when later he was stolen from her care by an
unscrupulous tourist and so forever lost to us, she could hardly
afterwards speak of him without tears.

Stickeen was a born aristocrat, dainty and scrupulously clean. From
puppyhood he never cared to play with the Indian dogs, and I was often
amused to see the dignified but decided way in which he repulsed all
attempts at familiarity on the part of the Indian children. He admitted
to his friendship only a few of the natives, choosing those who had
adopted the white man's dress and mode of living, and were devoid of the
rank native odors. His likes and dislikes were very strong and always
evident from the moment of his meeting with a stranger. There was
something almost uncanny about the accuracy of his judgment when "sizing
up" a man.

It was Stickeen himself who really decided the question whether we
should take him with us on this trip. He listened to the discussion, pro
and con, as he stood with me on the wharf, turning his sharp, expressive
eyes and sensitive ears up to me or down to Muir in the canoe. When the
argument seemed to be going against the dog he suddenly turned,
deliberately walked down the gang-plank to the canoe, picked his steps
carefully to the bow, where my seat with Muir was arranged, and curled
himself down on my coat. The discussion ended abruptly in a general
laugh, and Stickeen went along.

Then the acute little