of his loose parka.

"Cold night," he muttered to himself, as he paused to readjust the rope
of the small sled he was drawing, to the right shoulder.

Then he glanced back over the trail, and a dark object arrested his
attention, drawing nearer and nearer.

"A wolf! and on my track, too! I expected as much in this desolate
spot," and the traveller unslung the small rifle from his back and
stood ready for action.

For some time the animal did not look up, but kept its nose close to
the ground, and trotted steadily on. Then it lifted its head, slowed
down to a walk, and at length stopped.

"I don't like that brute on my track at this time of the day," thought
Keith. "Perhaps a leaden message may give it a hint to travel
elsewhere."

He raised his rifle to his shoulder and took aim. Then he lowered it,
moved by some sudden impulse. "Why, I believe it's a dog, not a wolf
at all," and he gave a sharp whistle to the watching animal.

The dog, for so it was, pricked up its ears, moved forward, and
stopped; but no coaxing on the traveller's part could induce it to
advance any further. After trying in vain for some time to make
friends with the cur, Keith resumed his weary walk.

The short winter day was drawing to a close, and the sun had dipped
behind a tall, hoary peak. The shadows stealing over the land warned
him that night was shutting down, and camping time was near.

Ahead lay a clump of thick fir trees, which promised shelter and an
abundance of wood. Toward this he moved, the dog following some
distance behind. Reaching the place, it did not take him long to clear
away the snow from a suitable spot, using one of his narrow snow-shoes
as a shovel. This done, he built a fire from the dead trees standing
close by, and prepared a generous supply of fuel to last during the
cold night. With much skill, acquired through long practice, he soon
fashioned a cosy little nest on one side of the fire, from the
richly-scented fir boughs. To make the shelter more complete, he
erected in the background a brush barricade in the form of a
semi-circle, a few feet high. In front of this he spread a wolf-skin
robe.

"A palace fit for a king," he remarked, half aloud, as he glanced
around upon his handiwork. "Now for supper."

A little bacon, a few beans, a taste of sourdough bread, with some
black tea for a relish, formed the humble repast.

In the meantime the dog had crept close, attracted by the warm, brigh