Satisfying himself from the sounds that issued through the connecting door that Peter and his family slept deeply, he lit a candle and quietly robbed the stock of what he required.

Then he wrote a note and pinned it beside the store door.
Carrying the bundles back to his cabin, he packed a grub-box and bore it down to the water.
His preparations completed, he went to his shack to bid good-by to his four-footed pal.

Job, instantly, comprehending that he was to be left behind, whimpered and nozzled so piteously that Ambrose's heart began to fail.
"I can't take you, old fel'!" he explained.

"You're such a common-looking mutt.

Of course, I know you're white clear through--but a lady would laugh at you until she knew you!" Even as he said it his heart accused him of disloyalty.