rabbit?"

Chance whined. Possibly he understood. In any event, he leaped
playfully against Sundown's chest and stood with his paws on the
tramp's shoulders. Sundown shrunk back against the corral bars. "Go
to it," he said, trying to cover his fear with a jest, "if you like
bones."

From behind him came a rush of feet. "Great Scott!" exclaimed Shoop.
"Come 'ere, Chance. I sure didn't know he was loose."

The dog dropped to his feet and wagged his tail inquiringly.

"Chance--there--he don't cotton to strangers," explained Shoop,
slipping his hand in the wolf-dog's collar. "Did he nip you?"

"Nope. But me and him ain't strangers, mister. You see, I knowed the
boss's brother Billy, what passed over in a wreck. He used to own
Chance, so the boss says."

"You knew Billy! But Chance don't know that. I'll chain him up till
he gets used to seein' you 'round."

Shoop led the dog to the stable. Sundown felt relieved. The
solicitude of the foreman, impersonal as it was, made him happier.

Next morning he was installed as cook. He did fairly well, and the men
rode away joking about the new "dough-puncher."

Then it was that Sundown had an inspiration--not to write verse, but to