After regaining my senses, I was tied to an Indian torture post. Blood was running down into my eyes. I could see this Indian chief coming out of his teepee, holding a lance above his head. "You killed my son," he said, and was ready to strike me down. Out of the brush, Wolf burst with a fierce growl, hitting the chief in the chest, knocking him on his back. Wolf stood on his chest, his eyes smoked with hatred, saliva and foam dripping off the tip of his tongue onto the chief's neck. Teeth bared and ready to kill on command, waiting to rip out his throat.