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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"Flower of the North"


Hardly had he turned to the men, ready to spring out upon them,
when there came a terrific interruption. There was a sudden crash
in the brush behind him, a menacing snarl, and a huge wolfish
brute launched itself at his throat. The swift instinct of self-
preservation turned the weapon intended for the men over the fire
upon this unexpected assailant. The snarling fangs of the husky
were gleaming in his face and the animal's body was against the
muzzle of his revolver when Philip fired. Though he escaped the
fangs, he could not ward off the impact of the dog's body, and in
another moment he was sprawling upon his back in the light of the
camp. Before Philip could recover himself Jeanne's startled guards
were upon him. Flung back, he still possessed his pistol, and
pulled the trigger blindly. The report was muffled and sickening.
At the same moment a heavy blow fell upon his head, and a furious
weight crushed him back to the ground. He dropped his revolver.
His brain reeled; his muscles relaxed. He felt his assailant's
fingers at his throat, and their menace brought back every ounce
of fighting strength in his body. For a moment he lay still, his
eyes closed, the warm blood flowing over his face.


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