Without the finesse of what man might charitably call reason in a beast, he had sensed a responsibility.

It was present in the closely drawn strips of faded cloth about his neck.

It was, in a way, a part of the girl herself, a part of her flesh and blood, a part of her spirit--something vital to her and dependent upon him.

He was ready to guard it with every instinct of caution and every ounce of courage there was in him.

And to protect it meant to fight.