"
Those who know the wilder portions of this planet will understand that
all was said between these two weaklings who had loved each other
dearly. Dennis returned to the bunk-house. Mamie ran to her bed-room
and cried her eyes out.
Within a week the camp knew two facts concerning the newcomer. His
name was--Dennis! And he had loved Tom Barker's dough-faced wife!
Tom's selection of his first instrument of torture indicated subtlety.
He bought from a Siwash Indian the most contemptible-looking cur ever
beheld at the inlet, and he christened the unfortunate beast--Dennis.
There was a resemblance between dog and man. Each, in the struggle for
existence, had received more than his due share of kicks, and the
sense of this in any animal manifests itself unmistakably. And each,
moreover, exhibited the same amazing optimism, which is, perhaps, a
sure sign of a mind not quite balanced.
Dennis, the dog, followed his new master wherever he went. Tom would
introduce him with the remark, "His name is Dennis, _too_." And
if Dennis, the man, happened to be present, Tom would swear at the
dog, calling him every evil name which came to the tip of the foulest
tongue in British Columbia.
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