was puzzled. A sudden thought struck him. He remembered the dead cow elk with the severed hamstrings, recalled the sudden hush and cessation of animals sounds that occurred as he lay on the far slope of the Wapiti Divide—the silence that had told him of a distant wolf howl. He looked around for Flash, but Flash had squeezed past on the other side of the girl and was gone.
“I think I can make a pretty accurate guess as to the source of that sound,” he said. “Our old friend Flash has been out with the wolves and found his voice. If he inherited his father’s cry it was the lobo call you heard.”
“Flash!” she exclaimed. “Why, Flash couldn’t make such a hideous sound. Oh, surely it wasn’t Flash!”
“I’m inclined to believe it was,” he said. “You see you’ve had the most dangerous beast in the hills right with you all the time.”
“Flash dangerous!” she cried. “Why he’s not dangerous. He’s the smartest dog alive.”
“And for that very reason he is positively the most dangerous beast within five hundred miles. Flash has ail of the killing power of a lobo wolf but without a wolf’s blind fear of man. Flash fears men intelligently, can gauge their power for
