Billy, the Dog That Made Good 
ority, and the pack seemed to accept him at his own 
value. Clearly they were afraid of him. He was 
given the right of way, avoided indeed by his future 
comrades. Only Silly Billy went bounding in 
hilarious friendliness to meet the great one; and a 
moment later flew howling with pain to hide and 
whimper in the arms of his little mistress. Of course, 
in a world of brawn, the hunters had to accept 
this from their prizefighter, and see in it a promise 
of mighty deeds to come in his own domain. 
In the two weeks that passed about the ranch the 
Terrible Turk had quarrelled with nearly every 
hound in the pack. There was only one indeed 
that he had not actually injured: that was Old 
Thunder. Once or twice they confronted each 
other, as when Thunder was gnawing a bone that 
the Turk seemed to want, but each time Thunder 
stood his ground and showed his teeth. ‘There was 
a certain dignity about Thunder that even a dog 
will feel, and in this case, without any actual con- 
flict, the Terrible Turk retired, and the onlookers 
hoped that this argued for a kindly spirit they had 
not hitherto seen in him. 
October was glowing on the hills, and long un- 
wonted peeps of distant snowpeaks were showing 
themselves through thinning treetops when word 
came that Old Reelfoot, a famous cattle-killing 
