"He beat you with a club," she was saying, her dark eyes within a foot
of Baree's. "He beat you! That man-beast!"

There came an interruption. The door opened, and the man-beast stood
looking down on them, a grin on his red face. Instantly Baree showed
that he was alive. He sprang back from under the Willow's hand with a
sudden snarl and faced McTaggart. The hair of his spine stood up like a
brush; his fangs gleamed menacingly, and his eyes burned like living
coals.

"There is a devil in him," said McTaggart. "He is wild--born of the
wolf. You must be careful or he will take off a hand, kit sakahet." It
was the first time he had called her that lover's name in
Cree--SWEETHEART! Her heart pounded. She bent her head for a moment
over her clenched hands, and McTaggart--looking down on what he thought
was her confusion--laid his hand caressingly on her hair. From the door
Pierrot had heard the word, and now he saw the caress, and he raised a
hand as if to shut out the sight of a sacrilege.

"Mon Dieu!" he breathed.

In the next instant he had given a sharp cry of wonder that mingled
with a sudden yell of pain from McTaggart. Like a flash Baree had
darted across the floor and fastened his teeth in the factor's leg.
They had bitten deep before McTaggart freed himself with a powerful
kick. With an oath he snatched his revolver from its holster. The
Willow was ahead of him. With a little cry she darted to Baree and
caught him in her arms. As she looked up at McTaggart, her soft, bare
throat was within a few inches of Baree's naked fangs. Her eyes blazed.