She followed his gesture to the drooping Lucius and saw the silly leer in his eye.
"I didn't understand. I only saw you step in to kick her. I'm sorry I was so abrupt."
But she was not sorry, Taylor felt. She did not care whether she had done him an injustice or not; she walked past him, speaking gently to the dog, calling her Pauguk. The animal, which had been running back and forth, muttering against her helplessness to be at the man who had struck her, sank belly to the earth when the girl approached, licking her chops swiftly, now and then darting a venomous glance at Taylor. The girl's hand was extended, the red tongue caressed it furtively and Pauguk slunk closer to her. John saw that this was no ordinary dog. Bigger, stronger, with something that dogs do not have, some curious thing which—
"Wolf!" he muttered.
"I'm sorry I come to your house and start a disturbance at once," he said icily, as the girl turned back. He scrutinized her closely and his gaze lingered on the thick hank of brown hair at her neck. Her eyes were brown, too, and wide and intelligent. "I got in here by mistake because my driver seems to have done pretty well at breaking the prohibition law."
She looked at Lucius again, but made no response; his explanation had not interested her.
"I was headed for White's camp," he went on, resenting this indifference. "He gave me the wrong turn."
When he spoke of his destination, her eyes came to his face and he fancied that a gleam of curiosity showed in them.
"You can't get there tonight," she said, holding out her
