Skiff Miller patted the dog's head, and slowly and solemnly
repeated, "Well, I'll be damned!"

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said the next moment "I was just s'prised
some, that was all."

"We're surprised, too," she answered lightly. "We never saw Wolf
make up to a stranger before."

"Is that what you call him - Wolf?" the man asked.

Madge nodded. "But I can't understand his friendliness toward you
- unless it's because you're from the Klondike. He's a Klondike
dog, you know."

"Yes'm," Miller said absently. He lifted one of Wolf's fore legs
and examined the foot-pads, pressing them and denting them with his
thumb. "Kind of SOFT," he remarked. "He ain't been on trail for a
long time."

"I say," Walt broke in, "it is remarkable the way he lets you
handle him."

Skiff Miller arose, no longer awkward with admiration of Madge, and
in a sharp, businesslike manner asked, "How long have you had him?"

But just then the dog, squirming and rubbing against the newcomer's
legs, opened his mouth and barked. It was an explosive bark, brief
and joyous, but a bark.