hen it was seen that Finn's assiduous licking had
been sufficient to restore the man to consciousness. The Master
raised his head feebly, and said--

"For God's sake don't hurt the dog! He saved my life. Killed six
dingoes in front of me. God's sake don't touch the----"

And with that he lapsed again into unconsciousness, while Jeff
propped up his head and another man produced a spirit-flask, and
the black-fellow gazed admiringly round upon the dead dingoes, and
the huge Wolfhound who sat there, with hackles raised and lips a
little curled by reason of the proximity of the men-folk. But Finn
was perfectly conscious that the Master was being helped, and he
showed no inclination to interfere. He was watchful, however, and
would not retreat for more than a few paces.

The party had brandy, and water, and food in plenty with them; and
it was not long before the Master was sitting up and munching
soaked bread, and sipping brandy and water, while one of the men
cleansed and bandaged his arms where the dingoes had torn them.
Another of the men tossed a big crust of bread to Finn, and, seeing
the way the Wolfhound bolted this, realized that the hound was as
near to starving as the man. After that, Finn had food and drink in
modest quantities; and, presently, the Master called to him, and
placed one arm weakly over his bony shoulders, while telling the
men, in as few words as might be, something of the manner in which
Finn had fought for him, and the origin of their relationship.

Exactly a week later, Finn lay on the balcony of a country town
hotel, with his nose just resting lightly on the Master's knee. The
Master was still weak. He lay on a cane lounge, with one hand on
Firm's shoulder. Beside him, in a basket chair, was the Mistress of
the Kennels, and now and again her hand was passed caressingly over
Finn's head. There was still a good deal of gauntness about the
great Wolfhound; but he was strong as a lion now, and his dark eyes
gleamed as brightly as ever through their overhanging eaves of
iron-grey hair.

[Illustration: The Wolfhound raised his bearded muzzle, and softly
licked the Master's thin brown hand.]

"Well," said the Master, looking across at his companion, over
Finn's head. "I'm not very certain about most things. It takes some
time to get used to being rich, doesn't it? I suppose we may be
called rich. They say the claim is good enough for half a dozen
fortunes yet; and sixty odd pounds of gem