wanted Warrigal for his mate and he would have her.

[Illustration: Finn's towering form stood out clearly in the
moonlight.]

Finn was standing in the middle of the flat ledge outside the den,
and he neither advanced or retreated a single step as Lupus drew
nearer. He simply bayed, at intervals, like a minute-gun, and
scratched a little at the sandy rock beneath him with his right
fore-foot. Once, Warrigal, snarling savagely, ranged up alongside
him, but he sent her back to the mouth of the den with a peremptory
growl which admitted of no argument. "This is my affair," his growl
said. "Stay you back there in the doorway." And Warrigal, like the
good spouse she was, retreated to the mouth of the den. Just then
Lupus landed on the rock-ledge with a hectoring snarl which
betrayed extravagance in a commodity he could ill afford to
waste--breath. He plunged forward upon Finn with the clumsiness of
a buffalo, and, for his instruction, received a slashing bite
across one shoulder and a chest thrust which sent him rolling
backwards off the ledge to the trail below, on his back.

A dingo in Finn's place would have leaped upon him then, and, it
may be, the fight would have ended suddenly; for even so
redoubtable a foe as Lupus is of no very great account if he can be
seized when on his back, with all four feet in the air. Black-tip
and his companions in the rear drew in their breath sharply. They
had never before seen Lupus on his back, and if he had stayed there
another second he would have had their fangs to reckon with. But
his reception by the stranger taught Lupus something, and the enemy
that faced Finn for the second assault was a far more deadly one
than the Lupus of a few moments earlier. Finn had scorned to pursue
his fallen foe, but it would have been better for him if he had had
less pride. The fan-shaped line of watching dingoes closed in a
little as Lupus remounted the rocky ledge, with a blood-curdling
snarl and an awe-inspiring exposure of his gleaming fangs. In
another instant the two were at grips, and Finn realized that he
was engaged in a fight for life, and a far more serious combat than
any he had known before. The mere weight of impact with the
wolf-dingo was sufficient to tell Finn this, and for the
infinitesimal fraction of an instant he felt a sense of fatality and
doom when his opponent's tremendously powerful jaws closed over the
upper part of his right fore-leg.

In the next instant Finn had