dozen coarse men had paid to see what François promised would be the tamdest dog fight that they had ever witnessed. With this in view he had brought Wolf and Silversheene to the deserted cabin to fight it out to the death, just as he knew they would if they were set upon each other by the cruel means which man's degeneracy has devised for such occasions.
Of the cold and desolate cabin feebly lit by the light of lanterns and the dozen coarse men who gathered about and of the desperate fight to the finish waged by the two fine dogs my pen refuses to write.
Such scenes are not for civilization. Suffice it to say that half an hour later they dragged Wolf forth and buried him in the snow behind the cabin, while Silversheene limped painfully back to the village behind his sorry god. Henceforth he would have Wolf's place as lead dog, but it was a question which of them was the better off. Wolf had earned his rest under the white snow where the lash of his
