peaks. Far down in the stream beds each tiny meadow was framed as a picture by the fringe of trees that ringed it in, the pale green aspens shimmering through the deeper green of the pines. A few hundred yards behind them mighty cliffs towered up above the timberline at the base of the Wapiti Divide.
Flash was satisfied at last. These two were once more together. He lay flat, his head between his paws and peered off into the distance. Each movement that caught his eye aroused his immediate interest and he raised his head, regarding it intently.
“Poor Flash. He must have traveled miles this morning trying to keep in touch with both of us at the same time,” said Betty, leaning to run her fingers through his hair. “Look at his eyes. They’re positively human in their intelligence. I believe he knows every word we say. Don’t you, Flash?” When she spoke his name Flash wagged his tail. “See!” she cried. “That proves it.”
Moran smiled and shook his head.
“You make the common error of going to extremes,” he said. “Men either consider that animals have no intelligence at all or credit them with too much. Flash does not understand one
