He had never seen anything like this pack.

They crowded shoulder to shoulder, body to body, in the open trail.

Most of them were the tawny dun and gray and yellow of the wolf.

There were a few blacks, and a few pure whites, but none that wore the mongrel spots of the soft-footed and softer-throated dogs from the south.
He shivered as he measured the pent-up power, the destructive possibilities of the whining, snapping, living sea of sinew and fang ahead of them.

And they were Josephine's! They were her slaves! What need had she of his protection?
What account would be the insignificant automatic at his side in the face of this wild horde that awaited only a word from her?
What could there be in these forests that she feared, with them at her command?
Ten men with rifles could not have stood in the face of their first mad rush--and yet she had told him that everything depended upon his protection.