The trees that remained were lopped of their lower branches, leaving their upper parts crowding in a dense shelter that shut out cold and storm.

No snow had filtered through their tops, and on the ground lay cedar and balsam needles two inches deep, a brown and velvety carpet that shone with the deep lustre of a Persian rug.
The place was filled with moving shapes and with gleaming eyes that were half fire in the gloom.

Here were leashed the forty fierce and wolfish beasts of the pack.

The dogs had ceased their loud clamour, and at sight of Josephine and sound of her voice, as she cried out greeting to them, there ran through the whole space a whining and a clinking of chains, and with that a snapping of jaws that sent a momentary shiver up Philip's back.
Josephine took him by the hand now.

With him she ran in among them, calling out their names, laughing with them, caressing the shaggy heads that were thrust against her--until it seemed to Philip that every beast in the pit was straining at the end of his chain to get at them and rend them into pieces.