Then he slept all night, while other coyotes howled dismally near by.

And in the morning he started off again, thinking he was going toward the train and his sorrowful master, really going in the opposite direction.

But there was one thing that man hadn't taught him to do in all the years, and that was to quit, so he kept on.

And at last, as any one will who keeps going long enough, he had to arrive somewhere and he reached the Bar O Ranch.
So you and I and the dog know how he got there, but Bill Jordan, the punchers, and the boys didn't, and presently they gave up trying to figure it out.
"'Tain't likely his owner'll show up, so he's ours," said Bill Jordan.
"He's Whitey's," Buck Higgins maintained.

"He saw him first." This law was older than any ranch house, or any cowpuncher, so it held good, and Whitey became the proud owner of the dog.