So quickly that the eye could scarcely follow her movement faithful Gray Wolf sank her gleaming fangs in the husky's shoulder.
A gray streak--nothing more tangible than a streak of gray, silent and terrible, shot through the dawn-gloom.

It was Kazan.

He came without a snarl, without a cry, and in a moment he and the husky were in the throes of terrific battle.
The four other huskies ran in quickly and stood waiting a dozen paces from the combatants.

Gray Wolf lay crouched on her belly.

The giant husky and the quarter-strain wolf-dog were not fighting like sledge-dog or wolf.