Part 33 (2/2)

”No, don't leave me, Dal; I am so weak. But where is the dog?”

”He was not here when I broke in.”

”You broke in?”

”Yes; I could not make you hear. I say, though, had I not better fetch help?”

”What for? There is no doctor; and he might come back.”

Dallas had started, for as Abel spoke there was a loud thumping at the door. His hand went behind to his revolver, which he held ready, fully expecting from his cousin's manner that the marauder who had attacked him had returned; but to the delight of both, after a second blow on the door, the familiar voice of Tregelly was heard in a cheery hail.

”Hullo, there!” he cried. ”Any one at home?”

Dallas darted to the door, threw it open, and there in the gloomy light of mid-day stood their friend with a load over his shoulder.

”Back again, then? I was coming to see. But I say, what's the meaning of this--is it a trap?”

”Is what a trap?” said Dallas.

”Putting this bag out yonder with the dog to watch it and snap at any one who touches it. Is the bag yours?”

”Yes, of course,” exclaimed Dallas excitedly; ”but where was it?”

”Outside, I tell you; but it's a failure if it's a trap, for the dog's dead.”

Dallas rushed out, followed by his visitor, and there in the dim light lay the dog, stretched out upon the snow, perfectly stiff and motionless.

”I see how it was now,” cried Dallas excitedly; and as their neighbour helped him carry the dog in, he told him in a few words of how he had found matters on his return.

”Poor brute! Was he in the place, then?”

”I suppose so, and he must have attacked the scoundrel, and made him drop the bag.”

”And then lay down to watch it, dying at his post. If he had lived I'd have given something for that dog.”

”Indeed you would not,” said Dallas warmly. ”No gold would have bought him.”

The dog was laid down by the fire, but Tregelly shook his head.

”Might as well save his skin, youngsters; but you'll have to thaw him first.”

”Is he dead?” asked Abel feebly.

”No doubt about that,” replied Tregelly. ”It's a pity, too, for he was a good dog. Those Eskimo, as a rule, are horrid brutes, eating up everything, even to their harness; but this one was something. I'd come up to bring Mr Wray here half one o' my hams, but you won't want it now.”

”No,” said Dallas; ”and I can send you back loaded, and be out of debt.”

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