He called them Ring and Whitie; they were sheep-dogs, half collie, half deerhound, superb in build, perfectly trained.

It seemed that in his fallen fortunes these dogs understood the nature of their value to him, and governed their affection and faithfulness accordingly.

Whitie watched him with somber eyes of love, and Ring, crouched on the little rise of ground above, kept tireless guard.

When the sun rose, the white dog took the place of the other, and Ring went to sleep at his master's feet.
By and by Venters rolled up his blankets and tied them and his meager pack together, then climbed out to look for his horse.

He saw him, presently, a little way off in the sage, and went to fetch him.