A neighboring trapper had run over with his team, and the baby Joan had toddled up to one of the big huskies.

There was a fierce snap of jaws, a scream of horror from Joan, a shout from the men as they leaped toward the pack.
But Kazan was ahead of them all.

In a gray streak that traveled with the speed of a bullet he was at the big husky's throat.

When they pulled him off, the husky was dead.

Joan thought of that now, as the baby kicked and tousled Kazan's head.
"Good old Kazan," she cried softly, putting her face down close to him.
"We're glad you came, Kazan, for we're going to be alone to-night--baby and I.Daddy's gone to the post, and you must care for us while he's away." She tickled his nose with the end of her long shining braid.