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 one of the first lessons of this hard country, and that was never to lose one's feet in a dog fight, especially if a dozen savage brutes were standing by.

Silversheene and a dozen other prospective sled dogs were gathered in a solemn conclave behind the long low building where Gene's friends who boarded Silversheene lived.

It was a sort of hotel of a rude class, but most of the boarders now were dogs, as the men had gone away up the river. Among the dogs who frequented the city and hung about this street was a small white cur of no particular breed. This little dog was the target for the dislike of all the dogs in the vicinity, and he was rarely left alone.

On this particular morning the little homeless canine lost his temper and turned upon his assailant who was larger than himself and a lively dog fight ensued. At the sound of the angry snarls, dogs came running from all directions, and in a minute's time there were at least a score of onlookers.