As he watched his master this half of an ear stood up like a galvanized stub, while the other--twice as long--was perked forward in the deepest and most interested enquiry.
Head, feet, and tail were Mackenzie hound, but the ears and his lank, skinny body was a battle royal between Spitz and Airedale.

At his present inharmonious stage of development he was the doggiest dog-pup outside the alleys of a big city.
For the first time in several minutes his master spoke, and Miki wiggled from stem to stern in appreciation of the fact that it was directly to him the words were uttered.
"It's a mother and a cub, as sure as you're a week old, Miki," he said.
"And if I know anything about bears they were here some time to-day!" He rose to his feet, made note of the deepening shadows in the edge of the timber, and filled his pail with water.

For a few moments the last rays of the sun lit up his face.

It was a strong, hopeful face.

In it was the joy of life.