And between the cabin door and the freedom of the forest were Bram's seven wolves! A feeling of disgust, almost of anger, swept over him as he drew Celie's little revolver from his pocket and held it in the palm of his hand.

There were four cartridges left.

But what would they avail against that horde of beasts! They would stop them no more than so many pin-pricks.

And what even would the club avail?
Against two or three he might put up a fight.

But against seven-- He cursed Bram under his breath.