Then, inch by inch, his muzzle drew nearer to Philip's steady hands, and a low whine rose in his throat.

His crest drooped, his ears shot forward a little, and Philip's hand rested on the wolfish head.
"That is proof," he laughed, turning to Josephine.

"If he had snapped off my hand I would say that you were wrong." She passed quickly from one dog to another now, with Philip close at her side, and from the collar of each dog she snapped the chain.

After she had freed a dozen, Philip began to help her.

A few of the huskies snarled at him.