affable condescension. Then another came and another, and little Satan's
head got quite confused. They were a queer-looking lot of curs and
half-breeds from the negro settlement at the edge of the woods, and
though Satan had little experience, his instincts told him that all was
not as it should be, and had he been human he would have wondered very
much how they had escaped the carnage that day. Uneasy, he looked around
for Hugo; but Hugo had disappeared. Once or twice Hugo had looked around
for Satan, and Satan paying no attention, the mastiff trotted on home in
disgust. Just then a powerful yellow cur sprang out of the darkness over
the railroad track, and Satan sprang to meet him, and so nearly had the
life scared out of him by the snarl and flashing fangs of the new-comer
that he hardly had the strength to shrink back behind his new friend,
the half-breed shepherd.

A strange thing then happened. The other dogs became suddenly quiet, and
every eye was on the yellow cur. He sniffed the air once or twice, gave
two or three peculiar low growls, and all those dogs except Satan lost
the civilization of centuries and went back suddenly to the time when
they were wolves and were looking for a leader. The cur was Lobo for
that little pack, and after a short parley, he lifted his nose high and
started away without looking back, while the other dogs silently trotted
after him. With a mystified yelp, Satan ran after them. The cur did not
take the turnpike, but jumped the fence into a field, making his way by
the rear of houses, from which now and then another dog would slink out
and silently join the band. Every one of them Satan nosed most
friendlily, and to his great joy the funeral dog, on the edge of the
town, leaped into their midst. Ten minutes later the cur stopped in the
midst of some woods, as though he would inspect his followers. Plainly,
he disapproved of Satan, and Satan kept out of his way. Then he sprang
into the turnpike and the band trotted down it, under flying black