oxing-gloves; his head was three sizes too big for his body, and
accident had assisted Nature in the perfection of her masterpiece by
robbing him of a half of one of his ears. As he watched his master this
half of an ear stood up like a galvanized stub, while the other--twice
as long--was perked forward in the deepest and most interested enquiry.
Head, feet, and tail were Mackenzie hound, but the ears and his lank,
skinny body was a battle royal between Spitz and Airedale. At his
present inharmonious stage of development he was the doggiest dog-pup
outside the alleys of a big city.

For the first time in several minutes his master spoke, and Miki
wiggled from stem to stern in appreciation of the fact that it was
directly to him the words were uttered.

"It's a mother and a cub, as sure as you're a week old, Miki," he said.
"And if I know anything about bears they were here some time to-day!"

He rose to his feet, made note of the deepening shadows in the edge of
the timber, and filled his pail with water. For a few moments the last
rays of the sun lit up his face. It was a strong, hopeful face. In it
was the joy of life. And now it was lighted up with a sudden
inspiration, and a glow that was not of the forest alone came into his
eyes, as he added:

"Miki, I'm lugging your homely carcass down to the Girl because you're
an unpolished gem of good nature and beauty--and for those two things I
know she'll love you. She is my sister, you know. Now, if I could only
take that cub along with you----"

He began to whistle as he turned with his pail of water in the
direction of a thin fringe of balsams a hundred yards away.

Close at his heels followed Miki.

Challoner, who was a newly appointed factor of the Great Hudson's Bay
Company, had pitched his camp at tie edge of the lake dose to the mouth
of the creek. There was not much to it--a battered tent, a still more
battered canoe, and a small pile of dunnage. But in the last glow of
the sunset it would have spoken volumes to a man with an eye trained to
the wear and the turmoil of the forests. It was the outfit of a man who
had gone unfearing to the rough edge of the world. And now what was
left of it was returning with him. To Challoner there was something of
human comradeship in these remnants of things that had gone through the
greater part of a year's fight with him. The canoe was warped and
battered and patched; smoke and storm had blackened his tent until it
was t