But what he feared most of all was the deadly whine with which growl, snap and bark alike ended.

Perspiration stood out on his face, but he could not afford to show fear to his men, and, retreating slowly, he rejoined them.

He would make no more explorations in the haunted wood that lay all about them.
As the chief went back to his men the snarling and snapping of the demon wolves distinctly expressed laughter, derision of the most sinister kind.

They were not only threatening him, they were laughing at him, and his bones continued to crumble through sheer weakness and fear.

It was not worth while for him to fire at any of the sounds.