“And Bolio, being far wiser than most of his kind, was fully aware of the nature of this night-prowler, the approach of whom it was his duty to challenge. Down the steps the powerful black dog had stalked, his growl warning the intruder. There were stepping stones across the yard to the little gate. Down this pathway the black warder of Jeff Wise’s lonely cabin went, slowly, certainly, his head high, his eyes ablaze. What to him were rain and the night, mystery of that vast solitude peril—the lush scent of the enemy? Such a dog has a passion for duty; and Bolio’s present duty was to fight.”