And Thorpe's wife, whose golden head lay close against his breast, and who shuddered and trembled now and then even as Kazan was doing, would have known what he was dreaming about.
In his sleep he was leaping again at the end of his chain.

His jaws snapped like castanets of steel,--and the sound awakened him, and he sprang to his feet, his spine as stiff as a brush, and his snarling fangs bared like ivory knives.

He had awakened just in time.

There was movement in the tent.

His master was awake, and if he did not escape-- He sped swiftly into the thick spruce, and paused, flat and hidden, with only his head showing from behind a tree.