Now something surely was nosing at her knee.
Emma Dean's face contracted ever so little when a cold something brushed the back of the hand that hung at her side.
"Hi--Hippy, where's the pup ?" she questioned weakly.
"Tied to a tree out yonder.

Why ?" Emma groped cautiously with the hand, first wishing to assure herself that she was not imagining, before making an exhibition of herself.

The hand came in contact with what she recognized instantly, as a cold nose.
Light fingers crept gingerly along the nose and paused at a huge, furry head, now well at her side.

She gave a quick, startled glance down at what lay under her hand, and her face went ghastly pale.
Uttering a hysterical scream, Emma Dean toppled over backwards, crashing to the cabin floor..