too big for him," said Douglas; "and it's up to me to look out for my pal."
The moon had risen and the snow was very light. Prince continued to yelp and it was not long before Douglas found the dog's tracks and was able to follow them without difficulty. They led up to the tree line on the east flank of Lost Chief Peak. The yelps appeared to come from not far within the border of pines.
Douglas chuckled. "He sure has bitten off more than he can chew this time! I'll have to tell that old dog that—"
A revolver shot interrupted his thoughts. The yelps abruptly ceased. Douglas spurred his horse and in a moment saw the figure of a man standing beside an outcropping rock. It was Charleton Falkner. Douglas threw himself from his horse. Prince, his paw in a trap, lay motionless on the ground beside the badly mangled body of a wolverine. Charleton's face in the moonlight was coolly vindictive.
"I'll teach a dog to spoil a pelt for me!" he said. "He didn't realize there were two traps here."
"But that was my dog, Prince!" exclaimed Doug.
"I don't care if it was the Almighty's dog! He can't rob my traps if I know it!" snarled Charleton.
Douglas advanced slowly. "You don't seem to get the idea, Charleton. That was my old dog that grew up with me—the faithfulest little chap in Lost Chief. I'd have paid you for the pelt and you know it. What did you shoot him for?"
Charleton's jaws worked. "I'll show you and Scott and the whole valley that my traps and my hunts are not to be interfered with!"
"Still you don't get the idea." Douglas was now not an arm's-length from Charleton. "You can't shoot a
