There was a deep growl from within, and with a cry of surprise the Inspector was hurled backward to the ground by the rush of a great, gray body. At the same instant, Jean Marcel, calling to Fleur, leaped headlong at his dog, seizing her before she could strike at the neck of the prostrate Wallace. Calming the husky, he held her while the discomfited Inspector got to his feet.
"You should not go so near, M'sieu. She ees not use to stranger," said Jean brusquely.
"I—I didn't think she was so cross," sputtered the ruffled Inspector. "Why, she's a regular wolf of a dog!"
"Now, sir," demanded the secretly delighted McCain, "do you believe she could kill a man?"
Surveying Fleur's gigantic frame critically as Jean stroked her glossy neck, soothing her with low words crooned into a hairy ear, the enlightened Inspector of the East Coast posts admitted:
"Well, I don't know but what she could. I never saw such a beast for size and strength. Let's have a look at the pups."
Jean brought from the tent the blind, squirming balls of fur.
"They are beauties, Marcel! I'll buy a couple of them. They can go down by the steamer if they're weaned by that time. What do you want for them?"
Marcel smiled inscrutably at Inspector Wallace and said:
"M'sieu, dese pups are not to sell."