All was confusion and action, and every moment life and limb were in peril.
There was imperative need to be constantly alert; for these dogs and men were not town dogs and men.

They were savages, all of them, who knew no law but the law of club and fang.
He had never seen dogs fight as these wolfish creatures fought, and his first experience taught him an unforgetable lesson.

It is true, it was a vicarious experience, else he would not have lived to profit by it.
Curly was the victim.

They were camped near the log store, where she, in her friendly way, made advances to a husky dog the size of a full-grown wolf, though not half so large as she.

There was no warning, only a leap in like a flash, a metallic clip of teeth, a leap out equally swift, and Curly's face was ripped open from eye to jaw.
It was the wolf manner of fighting, to strike and leap away; but there was more to it than this.