Now that this dog was in reach of humans he sat down, opened his
cave-like mouth, allowing a few inches of tongue to loll out, panted,
and looked amiably at the boys. He certainly was tired.

"He's not only tired, he's thirsty," said Whitey, and ran to the stable
for water.

And while he was gone the bulldog and Injun looked at each other--Injun
with his bronze skin, his long, straight hair, his calm face, and his
steady, dark eyes. This descendant of thousands of fighting men regarded
that descendant of thousands of fighting dogs. And what they thought of
each other the dog couldn't tell, and Injun didn't, but ever after they
were friends.

Presently Whitey returned from the stable with a pan of water, and with
Bill Jordan, foreman of the Bar O, Charlie Bassett, Buck Higgins, and
Shorty Palmer, all the cowpunchers who happened to be on the place. They
all knew bulldogs, and they regarded the newcomer with awe and respect.

Whitey put the water before the dog, who, after favoring him with a
grateful glance and a quiver of his stub tail, went to it.

"He's sure awful dry," Bill said. "Ought t' take him up to Moose Lake.
Looks like that pan o' water won't even moisten him."

"Where d'ye reck'n he come from?" asked Shorty.

"Dunno."