Bingo 



on the trapping rounds, the brave dog had acted 

 strangely, whimpering and watching the tim- 

 ber-trail ; and at last when night came on, in 

 spite of attempts to detain him he had set out 

 in the gloom and guided by a knowledge that 

 is beyond us had reached the spot in time to 

 avenge me as well as set me free. 



Stanch old Bing— he was a strange dog. 

 Though his heart was with me, he passed me 

 next day with scarcely a look, but responded 

 with alacrity when little Gordon called him to 

 a gopher-hunt. And it was so to the end; 

 and to the end also he lived the wolfish life 

 that he loved, and never failed to seek the win- 

 ter-killed horses and found one again with a 

 poisoned bait, and wolfishly bolted that ; then 

 feeling the pang, set out, not for Wright's but 

 to find me, and reached the door of my shanty 

 where I should have been. Next day on re- 

 turning I found him dead in the snow with his 

 head on the sill of the door— the door of his 

 puppyhood's days ; my dog to the last in his 

 heart of hearts — it was my help he sought, 

 and vainly sought, in the hour of his bitter ex- 

 tremity. 



182 



