“Good-by,” muttered Dick.  He breathed hard, fully occupied with the thought of his helplessness, with blind, unappeasable rage against the chance that had crippled him, with bitter and useless questionings as to why such a moment should have been selected for the one accident of his young life.  Outside he could hear the crackle of the little fire, the unusual sound of the Indian girl’s voice as she talked low to the dog, the animal’s whine of appreciation and content.  Suddenly he felt the need of companionship, the weariness of his own unending, revolving thoughts.

“Hi!” he called aloud.

May-may-gwan almost instantly appeared in the entrance, a scarcely concealed hope shining in her eyes.  This was the first time she had been summoned.

“Ninny-moosh—­the dog,” commanded Dick, coldly.

She turned to whistle the beast.  He came at once, already friends with this human being, who understood him.

“Come here, old fellow,” coaxed Dick, holding out his hand.

But the half-wild animal was in doubt.  He required assurance of this man’s intentions.  Dick gave himself to the task of supplying it.  For the first time in a month his face cleared of its discontent.  The old, winning boyishness returned.  May-may-gwan, standing forgotten, in the entrance, watched in silence.  Dick coaxed knowingly, leading, by the very force of persuasion, until the dog finally permitted a single pat of his sharp nose.  The young man smoothly and cautiously persisted, his face alight with interest.  Finally he conquered.  The animal allowed his ears to be rubbed, his nose to be batted.  At length, well content, he lay down by his new master within reach of the hand that rested caressingly on his head.  The Indian girl stole softly away.  At the fireside she seated herself and gazed in the coals.  Presently the marvel of two tears welled in her eyes.  She blinked them away and set about supper.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Whether it was that the prospect of getting about, or the diversion of the dog was responsible for the change, Dick’s cheerfulness markedly increased in the next few days.  For hours he would fool with the animal, whom he had named Billy, after a hunting companion, teaching him to shake hands, to speak, to wrinkle his nose in a doggy grin, to lie down at command, and all the other tricks useful and ornamental that go to make up the fanciest kind of a dog education.  The mistakes and successes of his new friend seemed to amuse him hugely.  Often from the tent burst the sounds of inextinguishable mirth.  May-may-gwan, peeping, saw the young man as she had first seen him, clear-eyed, laughing, the wrinkles of humour deepening about his eyes, his white teeth flashing, his brow untroubled.  Three days she hovered thus on the outer edge of the renewed good feeling, then timidly essayed an advance.

Unobtrusive, she slipped inside the teepee’s flap.  The dog sat on his haunches, his head to one side in expectation.