For days Pritchen had steered clear of his hated opponent, and had not met him face to face since the shooting affray in the saloon. His anger, which burned like a fire in his heart, had become much intensified since then by the change affairs had taken. The Reading Room had proved a success, notwithstanding his jibes and sneers, and a goodly number of men were spending their evenings there who formerly haunted Perdue's place.
"D— him!" muttered Pritchen half aloud. "I don't want to have any words with the cur. I wish I had taken some other route."
Even then he was tempted to put on his snowshoes and cut off from the trail. On second thought, however, this was abandoned, as his purpose would be easily interpreted as the act of a coward.
With eyes straight forward he essayed to pass the house without noticing the missionary, when a deep growl close by arrested his attention, and caused him to glance quickly up. He stopped short and over his face spread a look of surprise and then fear.
The cause of this change of attitude was the half-wolf dog Brisko, who with his back to the door was growling in the most ferocious manner. His teeth gleamed white, his eyes glowed, and the hair on his back stood straight on end. Not since the terrible night of the fight with the wolves had Keith seen the brute so much aroused.
"What's the matter with the cur?" growled Pritchen, trying to conceal the apprehension he felt.
"I don't know," replied the missionary. "I never saw him greet any one in that way before. He seems to be much exercised now anyway."
Suddenly a thought flashed into his mind. He loved dogs dearly, studied them most carefully, and had read much about their ways. Was there not some good reason for Brisko's aversion to this man? Had he seen him before? If so, where? Why that look of surprise and fear upon Pritchen's face? Could it be possible that this was the very one, the "Bill," whom that dying man in the Ibex cabin mentioned?
Lost in thought, he did not realize that he was staring hard at Pritchen, as if he could read his very soul. The latter noticed the look, surmised its meaning, and an ugly scowl passed over his face.
"What are you gazing at so mighty hard?" he blurted out.