“I told dad to put some—­”

“Miss, your dad told me to go get them, an’ I’ve not done it yet.  But I will presently.”

“Very well.  I’ll leave these things and come back later,” she replied, depositing a bundle upon the floor.  “You won’t mind if I try to—­to make you a little comfortable.  It’s dreadful the way outdoor men live when they do get indoors.”

“I reckon I’ll be slow in lettin’ you see what a good housekeeper I am,” he replied.  “Because then, maybe, I’ll see more of you.”

“Weren’t you a sad flatterer in your day?” she queried, archly.

Her intonation, the tilt of her head, gave Wade such a pang that he could not answer.  And to hide his momentary restraint he turned back to the hounds.  Then she came out upon the porch.

“I love hounds,” she said, patting Denver, which caress immediately made Jim and Sampson jealous.  “I’ve gotten on pretty well with these, but that Kane won’t make up.  Isn’t he splendid?  But he’s afraid—­no, not afraid of me, but he doesn’t like me.”

“It’s mistrust.  He’s been hurt.  I reckon he’ll get over that after a while.”

“You don’t beat dogs?” she asked, eagerly.

“No, miss.  That’s not the way to get on with hounds or horses.”

Her glance was a blue flash of pleasure.

“How glad that makes me!  Why, I quit coming here to see and feed the dogs because somebody was always kicking them around.”

Wade handed the rope to her.  “You hold them, so when I come out with some meat they won’t pile over me.”  He went inside, took all that was left of the deer haunch out of his pack, and, picking up his knife, returned to the porch.  The hounds saw the meat and yelped.  They pulled on the rope.

“You hounds behave,” ordered Wade, as he sat down on the step and began to cut the meat.  “Jim, you’re the oldest an’ hungriest.  Here....  Now you, Sampson.  Here!"...  The big hound snapped at the meat.  Whereupon Wade slapped him.  “Are you a pup or a wolf that you grab for it?  Here.”  Sampson was slower to act, but he snapped again.  Whereupon Wade hit him again, with open hand, not with violence or rancor, but a blow that meant Sampson must obey.

Next time the hound did not snap.  Denver had to be cuffed several times before he showed deference to this new master.  But the bloodhound Kane refused to take any meat out of Wade’s hand.  He growled and showed his teeth, and sniffed hungrily.

“Kane will have to be handled carefully,” observed Wade.  “He’d bite pretty quick.”

“But, he’s so splendid,” said the girl.  “I don’t like to think he’s mean.  You’ll be good to him—­try to win him?”

“I’ll do my best with him.”

“Dad’s full of glee that he has a real hunter at White Slides at last.  Now I’m glad, and sorry, too.  I hate to think of little calves being torn and killed by lions and wolves.  And it’s dreadful to know bears eat grown-up cattle.  But I love the mourn of a wolf and the yelp of a coyote.  I can’t help hoping you don’t kill them all—­quite.”