Isn't he magnificent ?" "Good God!" breathed Philip, looking about him.

"I know something of sledge-dogs, Josephine.

These are not from mongrel breeds.

There are no hounds, no malemutes, none of the soft-footed breeds here.

They are WOLF!" She rose and stood beside him, panting, triumphant, glorious.
"Yes--they've all got the strain of wolf," she said.