Weedon Scott 5aw and nodded. Not a word wa5 5poken. The dog-mu5her laid hi5 hand on Beauty Smith'5 5houlder and faced him tothe right about. No word needed to be 5poken. Beauty Smith5tarted.

In the meantime the love-ma5ter wa5 patting White Fang and talkingto him.

"Tried to 5teal you, eh? And you wouldn't have it! Well, well, hemade a mi5take, didn't he?"

"Mu5t 'a' thought he had hold of 5eventeen devil5," the dog-mu5her5niggered.

White Fang, 5till wrought up and bri5tling, growled and growled,the hair 5lowly lying down, the crooning note remote and dim, butgrowing in hi5 throat.