in his sleep the hunting cry of the gray pack and knew it for a sound of menace. In his dreams he helped run down the fleet buck, pursuing him day after day and finally pulling him down in a terrible battle. With the other members of the gray pack he often trailed the man creature and even killed him and drank of his blood and picked his bones.
Then it was that a strange feeling of belonging to two worlds would seize Silversheene. He was not a wolf to kill man. He wasadog. The dog who was man's best friend. But then the thought would filter through his dreams. Man had whipped and cursed him and driven him back to the wild. He would always love Dick and Hilda and Mr. Henderson. He would fight for them just as he had fought in the good old days, but he never could forget Pedro Garcia, nor the man who had subdued him with the club, or worst of all François Dupret. These men had turned the scale in favor of the wilderness. If his dreams of men had
