Even Peter sensed the cataclysmic change that had come in this
moment between the two big rocks. It held something in the air,
like the impending crash of dynamite, or the falling down of the
world. He forgot himself, and looked up at his mistress, a
wonderful, slim little thing standing there at last unafraid
before the future--and in his dog heart and soul a part of the
truth came to him, and he planted his big feet squarely in front
of Jed Hawkins, and snarled at him as he had never snarled before
in his life.

And the bootlegger, for a moment, was stunned, For a while back he
had humored the girl a little, to hold her in peace and without
suspicion until Mooney was able to turn over her body-money. After
that--after he had delivered her to the other's shack--it would
all be up to Mooney, he figured. And this was what had come of his
peace-loving efforts! She was taking advantage of him, defying
him, spying upon him--the brat he had fed and brought up for ten
years! Her beauty as she stood there did not hold him back. It was
punishment she needed, a beating, a hair-pulling, until there was
no breath left in her impudent body. He sprang forward, and Peter
let out a wild yip as he saw Nada raise her stick. But she was a
moment too slow. The man's hand caught it, and his right hand shot
forward and buried itself in the thick, soft mass of her hair.

It was then that something broke loose in Peter. For this day,
this hour, this minute the gods of destiny had given him birth.
All things in the world were blotted out for him except one--the
six inches of naked shank between the bootlegger's trouser-leg and
his shoe. He dove in. His white teeth, sharp as stiletto-points,
sank into it. And a wild and terrible yell came from Jed Hawkins