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 by a great fear that he would again lose Dick. For he followed him about like a shadow and could not seem to get close enough to him. All that afternoon they spent in just loving each other and that night Silversheene slept on half of his master's blanket. Several times in the night he awoke Dick by his low growling. But Richard could see nothing to growl about, yet Silversheene did, for once again the phantom dogs of the past, his ancestors, the gray wolves were sitting in a gray circle about the outer rim of the man's campfire calling for him to come back to them. He was a wolf, not a dog. His place was with them. But with each such suggestion, the dog would snuggle closer to his master and thrust his muzzle into the man's hand. Several times that first night Dick heard him whimpering in his sleep and reached over and stroked his head.

"Poor old Silversheene," he would say, "you have had a hard time of it, but now I have you back, nothing in the world will