Thornton shook his head and stepped to Buck's side. "You must stand off from him," Matthewson protested. "Free play and plenty of room."

The crowd fell silent; only could be heard the voices of s the gamblers vainly offering two to one. Everybody acknowledged Buck a magnificent animal, but twenty fifty-pound sacks of flour bulked too large in their eyes for them to loosen their pouch strings.

Thornton knelt down by Buck's side. He took his head 10 in his two hands and rested cheek on cheek. He did not playfully shake him, as was his wont, or murmur soft love curses; but he whispered in his ear. "As you love me, Buck. As you love me," was what he whispered. Buck whined with suppressed eagerness.

15 The crowd was watching curiously. The affair was growing mysterious. It seemed like a conjuration. As Thornton got to his feet, Buck seized his mittened hand between his jaws, pressing it with his teeth and releasing it slowly, half reluctantly. It was the answer, in terms not of speech 20 but of love. Thornton stepped well back.

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"Now, Buck," he said.

Buck tightened the traces, then slacked them for a matter of several inches. It was the way he had learned. "Gee!" Thornton's voice rang out, sharp in the tense silence.

Buck swung to the right, ending the movement in a plunge that took up the slack and with a sudden jerk arrested his one hundred and fifty pounds. The load quivered, and from under the runners arose a crisp crackling.

"Haw!" Thornton commanded.

Buck duplicated the maneuver, this time to the left. The crackling turned into a snapping, the sled pivoting and the

runners slipping and grating several inches to the side. The sled was broken out. Men were holding their breaths, intensely unconscious of the fact.

"Now, mush!"

Thornton's command cracked out like a pistol shot. 5 Buck threw himself forward, tightening the traces with a jarring lunge. His whole body was gathered compactly together in the tremendous effort, the muscles writhing and knotting like live things under the silky fur. His great chest was low to the ground, his head forward and down, 10 while his feet were flying like mad, the claws scarring the hard-packed snow in parallel grooves. The sled swayed and trembled, half started forward. One of his feet slipped, and one man groaned aloud. Then the sled lurched ahead in what appeared a rapid succession of jerks, though it never 15 really came to a dead stop again - half an inch — an inch two inches. The jerks perceptibly diminished; as the sled gained momentum he caught them up till it was moving steadily along.

Men gasped and began to breathe again, unaware that 20 for a moment they had ceased to breathe. Thornton was running behind, encouraging Buck with short, cheery words. The distance had been measured off, and as he neared the pile of firewood which marked the end of the hundred yards, a cheer began to grow and grow, which 25 burst into a roar as he passed the firewood and halted at command. Every man was tearing himself loose, even Matthewson. Hats and mittens were flying in the air. Men were shaking hands, it did not matter with whom, and bubbling over in a general incoherent babel.

But Thornton fell on his knees beside Buck. Head was against head, and he was shaking him back and forth.

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Buck seized Thornton's hand in his teeth. As though animated by a common impulse, the onlookers drew back to a respectful distance.

-The Call of the Wild.

1. Jack London (1867-1916) was a Californian by birth. He early began roving, and his voyages and tramps took him all over the world. He was a keen observer and a virile writer. The Call of the Wild is perhaps the best known of his many tales. You observe from the extract that his stories are full of action. They are moving pictures in words.

2. What was the situation that led up to the bet? Where is this event supposed to have taken place? Read the lines that show the men are miners.

3. How much was staked against Buck? Who was for the dog? Against him? How did he respond? How did the men who bet against Buck show they were good losers?

THE

THE LOSS OF THE DRAKE

BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE

HE Newfoundland coast is a peculiarly dangerous one, from the dense fogs that are caused by the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. These waters rushing up from the equator here come in contact with the cold currents from s the pole. As they meet, they send up such heavy vapor that day can sometimes scarcely be discerned from night; even at little more than arm's length objects cannot be distinguished, while from without, the mist looks like a thick, sheer precipice of snow.

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In such a fearful fog, on the morning of the 20th of June, 1822, the small schooner Drake struck suddenly upon a rock and almost immediately fell over on her side, the waves breaking over her. Her commander, Captain Baker,

ordered her masts to be cut away, in hopes of lightening her so that she might right herself, but in vain. One boat was washed away, another upset as soon as she was launched, and there remained only the small boat called the captain's gig.

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The ship was fast breaking up; the only hope was that the crew might reach a small rock, the point of which could be seen above the waves at a distance that the fog made difficult to calculate, but that, it was hoped, might not be too great. A man named Leonard seized a rope and sprang 10 into the sea, but the current was too strong for him; he was carried away in an opposite direction and was obliged to be dragged on board again.

Then the boatswain, whose name was Turner, volunteered to make the attempt in the gig, taking a rope fas- 15 tened round his body. The crew cheered him after the gallant fashion of British seamen, though they were all hanging on by the ropes to the ship, with the sea breaking over them and threatening every moment to dash the vessel to pieces. Anxiously they watched Turner in his boat, as 20 he made his way to within a few feet of the rock. There the boat was lifted high and higher by a huge wave, then hurled down on the rock and shattered to pieces; but the brave boatswain was safe, and contrived to keep his hold of the rope and to scramble up on the stone.

Another great wave, almost immediately after, heaved up the remains of the ship and dashed her down close to this rock of safety. Captain Baker, giving up the hope of saving her, commanded the crew to leave her and make their way to the rock. For the first time he met with disobedience. With one voice they refused to leave the wreck unless they saw him before them in safety. Calmly

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he renewed his orders, saying that his life was the last and least consideration, and they were obliged to obey, leaving the ship in as orderly a manner as if they were going ashore in harbor. But they were so benumbed with cold that s many were unable to climb the rock and were swept off by the waves; among these was the lieutenant.

Captain Baker last of all joined his crew. It was then discovered that they were at no great distance from the land, but that the tide was rising and that the rock on which they stood would assuredly be covered at high water. The heavy mist and lonely coast gave scarcely a hope that help would come ere the slowly rising waters must devour them.

Still there was no murmur. Again the gallant boatswain, who still held the rope, volunteered to make an effort to 15 save his comrades. With a few words of earnest prayer, he secured the rope round his waist, struggled hard with the waves, and reached the shore, whence he sent back the news of his safety by a loud cheer to his comrades.

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There was now a line of rope between the shore and the rock, just long enough to reach from one to the other when held by a man at each end. The only hope of safety lay in working a desperate passage along this rope to the land. The spray was already beating over those who were crouched on the rock, but not a man moved till called by 25 name by Captain Baker, and then it is recorded that not

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one, so summoned, stirred till he had used his best entreaties to the captain to take his place; but the captain had but one reply: "I will never leave the rock until every soul is safe."

Forty-four stout sailors had made their perilous way to shore. The forty-fifth looked round and saw a poor woman lying helpless, almost lifeless, on the rock, unable to move.