He guards them jealously from thieves, and that explains why he has so many dogs.

As soon as he hears our carriage-wheels he'll come out on his veranda and fire off his gun--not at us, but into the air, to let us know he's awake and ready to meet friend or foe." The barking increased, the dogs sticking their noses out from between the stakes of the palisade and joining in a full chorus.

Presently a shot was heard from the front porch of the house.
"Oh, they are firing at us!" cried Blanka, startled.
"Don't be afraid, sister-in-law," Aaron reassured her; "that shot wasn't aimed at us." Then he shouted, in stentorian tones: "Don't shoot, Ciprianu, don't shoot! There's a lady with us, and she can't bear the noise." At this there was heard a great commotion among the dogs, as of some one quieting the unruly beasts with a whip.

Then the gate opened and a six-foot giant in a sheepskin coat, wool outward, and bearing a club, appeared.

He exchanged greetings in Rumanian with Aaron, and the conversation that followed was likewise in that language, so that Blanka could not understand a word of it.