Douglas obeyed, and faintly on the frosty air sounded the reiterated yelps of a dog.
"That's Prince and he's in trouble!" exclaimed Doug.
"He's up on the shoulder of Lost Chief, I depone," said Johnny.
"I'll go up there." Douglas took his rifle from behind the door and hurried out to the corral. The two men followed him, and by the time Doug had buckled on his spurs, they had saddled his horse.
"Either he's got into a trap or he's tackled something too big for him," said Douglas; "and it's up to me to look out for my pal."
The moon had risen and the snow was very light. Prince continued to yelp and it was not long before Douglas found the dog's tracks and was able to follow them without difficulty. They led up to the tree line on the east flank of Lost Chief Peak. The yelps appeared to come from not far within the border of pines.
Douglas chuckled. "He sure has bitten off more than he can chew this time! I'll have to tell that old dog that—"
A revolver shot interrupted his thoughts. The yelps abruptly ceased. Douglas spurred his horse and in a moment saw the figure of a man standing beside an outcropping rock. It was Charleton Falkner. Douglas threw himself from his horse, Prince, his paw in a trap, lay motionless on the ground beside the badly mangled body of a wolverine. Charleton's face in the moonlight was coolly vindictive.
"I'll teach a dog to spoil a pelt for me!" he said. "He didn't realize there were two traps here."
"But that was my dog, Prince!" exclaimed Doug.