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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4515-h.zip b/4515-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5b2bbc --- /dev/null +++ b/4515-h.zip diff --git a/4515-h/4515-h.htm b/4515-h/4515-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d801c06 --- /dev/null +++ b/4515-h/4515-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7266 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Golden Snare, by James Oliver Curwood +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Snare, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Golden Snare + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Posting Date: August 11, 2009 [EBook #4515] +Release Date: October, 2003 +First Posted: January 29, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SNARE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE GOLDEN SNARE +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF KAZAN, THE DANGER TRAIL, <BR> +THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE, <BR> +THE GRIZZLY KING, ETC. +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">I</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap02">II</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap03">III</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap04">IV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap05">V</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap06">VI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap07">VII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap08">VIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap09">IX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap10">X</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">XI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">XII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">XIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">XIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">XV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">XVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">XVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">XVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">XIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">XX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">XXI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">XXII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">XXIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">XXIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">XXV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">XXVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE GOLDEN SNARE +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<P> +Bram Johnson was an unusual man, even for the northland. He was, above +all other things, a creature of environment—and necessity, and of that +something else which made of him at times a man with a soul, and at +others a brute with the heart of a devil. In this story of Bram, and +the girl, and the other man, Bram himself should not be blamed too +much. He was pathetic, and yet he was terrible. It is doubtful if he +really had what is generally regarded as a soul. If he did, it was +hidden—hidden to the forests and the wild things that had made him. +</P> + +<P> +Bram's story started long before he was born, at least three +generations before. That was before the Johnsons had gone north of +Sixty. But they were wandering, and steadily upward. If one puts a +canoe in the Lower Athabasca and travels northward to the Great Slave +and thence up the Mackenzie to the Arctic he will note a number of +remarkable ethnological changes. The racial characteristics of the +world he is entering change swiftly. The thin-faced Chippewa with his +alert movements and high-bowed canoe turns into the slower moving Cree, +with his broader cheeks, his more slanting eyes, and his racier +birchbark. And even the Cree changes as he lives farther north; each +new tribe is a little different from its southernmost neighbor, until +at last the Cree looks like a Jap, and the Chippewyan takes his place. +And the Chippewyan takes up the story of life where the Cree left off. +Nearer the Arctic his canoe becomes a skin kaiak, his face is still +broader, Ms eyes like a Chinaman's, and writers of human history call +him Eskimo. +</P> + +<P> +The Johnsons, once they started, did not stop at any particular point. +There was probably only one Johnson in the beginning of that hundred +year story which was to have its finality in Bram. But there were more +in time. The Johnson blood mixed itself first with the Chippewa, and +then with the Cree—and the Cree-Chippewa Johnson blood, when at last +it reached the Eskimo, had in it also a strain of Chippewyan. It is +curious how the name itself lived. Johnson! One entered a tepee or a +cabin expecting to find there a white man, and was startled when he +discovered the truth. +</P> + +<P> +Bram, after nearly a century of this intermixing of bloods, was a +throwback—a white man, so far as his skin and his hair and his eyes +went. In other physical ways he held to the type of his half-strain +Eskimo mother, except in size. He was six feet, and a giant in +strength. His face was broad, his cheek-bones high, his lips thick, his +nose flat. And he was WHITE. That was the shocking thing about it all. +Even his hair was a reddish blonde, wild and coarse and ragged like a +lion's mane, and his eyes were sometimes of a curious blue, and at +others—when he was angered—green like a cat's at night-time. +</P> + +<P> +No man knew Bram for a friend. He was a mystery. He never remained at a +post longer than was necessary to exchange his furs for supplies, and +it might be months or even years before he returned to that particular +post again. He was ceaselessly wandering. More or less the Royal +Northwest Mounted Police kept track of him, and in many reports of +faraway patrols filed at Headquarters there are the laconic words, "We +saw Bram and his wolves traveling northward" or "Bram and his wolves +passed us"—always Bram AND HIS WOLVES. For two years the Police lost +track of him. That was when Bram was buried in the heart of the Sulphur +Country east of the Great Bear. After that the Police kept an even +closer watch on him, waiting, and expecting something to happen. And +then—the something came. Bram killed a man. He did it so neatly and so +easily, breaking him as he might have broken a stick, that he was well +off in flight before it was discovered that his victim was dead. The +next tragedy followed quickly—a fortnight later, when Corporal Lee and +a private from the Fort Churchill barracks closed in on him out on the +edge of the Barren. Bram didn't fire a shot. They could hear his great, +strange laugh when they were still a quarter of a mile away from him. +Bram merely set loose his wolves. By a miracle Corporal Lee lived to +drag himself to a half-breed's cabin, where he died a little later, and +the half-breed brought the story to Fort Churchill. +</P> + +<P> +After this, Bram disappeared from the eyes of the world. What he lived +in those four or five years that followed would well be worth his +pardon if his experiences could be made to appear between the covers of +a book. Bram—AND HIS WOLVES! Think of it. Alone. In all that time +without a voice to talk to him. Not once appearing at a post for food. +A loup-garou. An animal-man. A companion of wolves. By the end of the +third year there was not a drop of dog-blood in his pack. It was wolf, +all wolf. From whelps he brought the wolves up, until he had twenty in +his pack. They were monsters, for the under-grown ones he killed. +Perhaps he would have given them freedom in place of death, but these +wolf-beasts of Bram's would not accept freedom. In him they recognized +instinctively the super-beast, and they were his slaves. And Bram, +monstrous and half animal himself, loved them. To him they were +brother, sister, wife—all creation. He slept with them, and ate with +them, and starved with them when food was scarce. They were comradeship +and protection. When Bram wanted meat, and there was meat in the +country, he would set his wolf-horde on the trail of a caribou or a +moose, and if they drove half a dozen miles ahead of Bram himself there +would always be plenty of meat left on the bones when he arrived. Four +years of that! The Police would not believe it. They laughed at the +occasional rumors that drifted in from the far places; rumors that Bram +had been seen, and that his great voice had been heard rising above the +howl of his pack on still winter nights, and that half-breeds and +Indians had come upon his trails, here and there—at widely divergent +places. It was the French half-breed superstition of the chasse-galere +that chiefly made them disbelieve, and the chasse-galere is a thing not +to be laughed at in the northland. It is composed of creatures who have +sold their souls to the devil for the power of navigating the air, and +there were those who swore with their hands on the crucifix of the +Virgin that they had with their own eyes seen Bram and his wolves +pursuing the shadowy forms of great beasts through the skies. +</P> + +<P> +So the Police believed that Bram was dead; and Bram, meanwhile, keeping +himself from all human eyes, was becoming more and more each day like +the wolves who were his brothers. But the white blood in a man dies +hard, and always there flickered in the heart of Bram's huge chest a +great yearning. It must at times have been worse than death—that +yearning to hear a human voice, to have a human creature to speak to, +though never had he loved man or woman. Which brings us at last to the +final tremendous climax in Bram's life—to the girl, and the other man. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<P> +The other man was Raine—Philip Raine. +</P> + +<P> +To-night he sat in Pierre Breault's cabin, with Pierre at the opposite +side of the table between them, and the cabin's sheet iron stove +blazing red just beyond. It was a terrible night outside. Pierre, the +fox hunter, had built his shack at the end of a long slim forefinger of +scrub spruce that reached out into the Barren, and to-night the wind +was wailing and moaning over the open spaces in a way that made Raine +shiver. Close to the east was Hudson's Bay—so close that a few moments +before when Raine had opened the cabin door there came to him the low, +never-ceasing thunder of the under-currents fighting their way down +through the Roes Welcome from the Arctic Ocean, broken now and then by +a growling roar as the giant forces sent a crack, like a great knife, +through one of the frozen mountains. Westward from Pierre's cabin there +stretched the lifeless Barren, illimitable and void, without rock or +bush, and overhung at day by a sky that always made Raine think of a +terrible picture he had once seen of Dore's "Inferno"—a low, thick +sky, like purple and blue granite, always threatening to pitch itself +down in terrific avalanches. And at night, when the white foxes yapped, +and the wind moaned— +</P> + +<P> +"As I have hope of paradise I swear that I saw him—alive, M'sieu," +Pierre was saying again over the table. +</P> + +<P> +Raine, of the Fort Churchill patrol of the Royal Northwest Mounted +Police, no longer smiled in disbelief. He knew that Pierre Breault was +a brave man, or he would not have perched himself alone out in the +heart of the Barren to catch the white foxes; and he was not +superstitious, like most of his kind, or the sobbing cries and strife +of the everlasting night-winds would have driven him away. +</P> + +<P> +"I swear it!" repeated Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +Something that was almost eagerness was burning now in Philip's face. +He leaned over the table, his hands gripping tightly. He was +thirty-five; almost slim as Pierre himself, with eyes as steely blue as +Pierre's were black. There was a time, away back, when he wore a dress +suit as no other man in the big western city where he lived; now the +sleeves of his caribou skin coat were frayed and torn, his hands were +knotted, in his face were the lines of storm and wind. +</P> + +<P> +"It is impossible," he said. "Bram Johnson is dead!" +</P> + +<P> +"He is alive, M'sieu." +</P> + +<P> +In Pierre's voice there was a strange tremble. +</P> + +<P> +"If I had only HEARD, if I had not SEEN, you might disbelieve, M'sieu," +he cried, his eyes glowing with a dark fire. "Yes, I heard the cry of +the pack first, and I went to the door, and opened it, and stood there +listening and looking out into the night. UGH! they went near. I could +hear the hoofs of the caribou. And then I heard a great cry, a voice +that rose above the howl of the wolves like the voice of ten men, and I +knew that Bram Johnson was on the trail of meat. MON DIEU—yes—he is +alive. And that is not all. No. No. That is not all—" +</P> + +<P> +His fingers were twitching. For the third or fourth time in the last +three-quarters of an hour Raine saw him fighting back a strange +excitement. His own incredulity was gone. He was beginning to believe +Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"And after that—you saw him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I would not do again what I did then for all the foxes between +the Athabasca and the Bay, M'sieu. It must have been—I don't know +what. It dragged me out into the night. I followed. I found the trail +of the wolves, and I found the snowshoe tracks of a man. Oui. I still +followed. I came close to the kill, with the wind in my face, and I +could hear the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh—yes—yes—AND +A MAN'S TERRIBLE LAUGH! If the wind had shifted—if that pack of +devils' souls had caught the smell of me—tonnerre de dieu!" He +shuddered, and the knuckles of his fingers snapped as he clenched and +unclenched his hands. "But I stayed there, M'sieu, half buried in a +snow dune. They went on after a long time. It was so dark I could not +see them. I went to the kill then, and—yes, he had carried away the +two hind quarters of the caribou. It was a bull, too, and heavy. I +followed—clean across that strip of Barren down to the timber, and it +was there that Bram built himself the fire. I could see him then, and I +swear by the Blessed Virgin that it was Bram! Long ago, before he +killed the man, he came twice to my cabin—and he had not changed. And +around him, in the fire-glow, the wolves huddled. It was then that I +came to my reason. I could see him fondling them. I could see their +gleaming fangs. Yes, I could HEAR their bodies, and he was talking to +them and laughing with them through his great beard—and I turned and +fled back to the cabin, running so swiftly that even the wolves would +have had trouble in catching me. And that—that—WAS NOT ALL!" +</P> + +<P> +Again his fingers were clenching and unclenching as he stared at Raine. +</P> + +<P> +"You believe me, M'sieu?" +</P> + +<P> +Philip nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"It seems impossible. And yet—you could not have been dreaming, +Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +Breault drew a deep breath of satisfaction, and half rose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"And you will believe me if I tell you the rest?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Swiftly Pierre went to his bunk and returned with the caribou skin +pouch in which he carried his flint and steel and fire material for the +trail. +</P> + +<P> +"The next day I went back, M'sieu," he said, seating himself again +opposite Philip. "Bram and his wolves were gone. He had slept in a +shelter of spruce boughs. And—and—par les mille cornes du diable if +he had even brushed the snow out! His great moccasin tracks were all +about among the tracks of the wolves, and they were big as the spoor of +a monster bear. I searched everywhere for something that he might have +left, and I found—at last—a rabbit snare." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre Breault's eyes, and not his words—and the curious twisting and +interlocking of his long slim fingers about the caribou-skin bag in his +hand stirred Philip with the thrill of a tense and mysterious +anticipation, and as he waited, uttering no word, Pierre's fingers +opened the sack, and he said: +</P> + +<P> +"A rabbit snare, M'sieu, which had dropped from his pocket into the +snow—" +</P> + +<P> +In another moment he had given it into Philip's hands. The oil lamp was +hung straight above them. Its light flooded the table between them, and +from Philip's lips, as he stared at the snare, there broke a gasp of +amazement. Pierre had expected that cry. He had at first been +disbelieved; now his face burned with triumph. It seemed, for a space, +as if Philip had ceased breathing. He stared—stared—while the light +from above him scintillated on the thing he held. It was a snare. There +could be no doubt of that. It was almost a yard in length, with the +curious Chippewyan loop at one end and the double-knot at the other. +</P> + +<P> +The amazing thing about it was that it was made of a woman's golden +hair. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<P> +The process of mental induction occasionally does not pause to reason +its way, but leaps to an immediate and startling finality, which, by +reason of its very suddenness, is for a space like the shock of a +sudden blow. After that one gasp of amazement Philip made no sound. He +spoke no word to Pierre. In a sudden lull of the wind sweeping over the +cabin the ticking of his watch was like the beating of a tiny drum. +Then, slowly, his eyes rose from the silken thread in his fingers and +met Pierre's. Each knew what the other was thinking. If the hair had +been black. If it had been brown. Even had it been of the coarse red of +the blond Eskimo of the upper Mackenzie! But it was gold—shimmering +gold. +</P> + +<P> +Still without speaking, Philip drew a knife from his pocket and cut the +shining thread above the second knot, and worked at the finely wrought +weaving of the silken filaments until a tress of hair, crinkled and +waving, lay on the table before them. If he had possessed a doubt, it +was gone now. He could not remember where he had ever seen just that +colored gold in a woman's hair. Probably he had, at one time or +another. It was not red gold. It possessed no coppery shades and lights +as it rippled there in the lamp glow. It was flaxen, and like spun +silk—so fine that, as he looked at it, he marveled at the patience +that had woven it into a snare. Again he looked at Pierre. The same +question was in their eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be—that Bram has a woman with him," said Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be," said Philip. "Or—" +</P> + +<P> +That final word, its voiceless significance, the inflection which +Philip gave to it as he gazed at Pierre, stood for the one tremendous +question which, for a space, possessed the mind of each. Pierre +shrugged his shoulders. He could not answer it. And as he shrugged his +shoulders he shivered, and at a sudden blast of the wind against the +cabin door he turned quickly, as though he thought the blow might have +been struck by a human hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Diable!" he cried, recovering himself, his white teeth flashing a +smile at Philip. "It has made me nervous—what I saw there in the light +of the campfire, M'sieu. Bram, and his wolves, and THAT!" +</P> + +<P> +He nodded at the shimmering strands. +</P> + +<P> +"You have never seen hair the color of this, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"Non. In all my life—not once." +</P> + +<P> +"And yet you have seen white women at Fort Churchill, at York Factory, +at Lac la Biche, at Cumberland House, and Norway House, and at Fort +Albany?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah-h-h, and at many other places, M'sieu. At God's Lake, at Lac Seul, +and over on the Mackenzie—and never have I seen hair on a woman like +that." +</P> + +<P> +"And Bram has never been out of the northland, never farther south than +Fort Chippewyan that we know of," said Philip. "It makes one shiver, +eh, Pierre? It makes one think of—WHAT? Can't you answer? Isn't it in +your mind?" +</P> + +<P> +French and Cree were mixed half and half in Pierre's blood. The pupils +of his eyes dilated as he met Philip's steady gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"It makes one think," he replied uneasily, "of the chasse-galere and +the loup-garou, and—and—almost makes one believe. I am not +superstitious, M'sieu—non—non—I am not superstitious," he cried +still more uneasily. "But many strange things are told about Bram and +his wolves;—that he has sold his soul to the devil, and can travel +through the air, and that he can change himself into the form of a wolf +at will. There are those who have heard him singing the Chanson de +Voyageur to the howling of his wolves away up in the sky. I have seen +them, and talked with them, and over on the McLeod I saw a whole tribe +making incantation because they had seen Bram and his wolves building +themselves a conjuror's house in the heart of a thunder-cloud. So—is +it strange that he should snare rabbits with, a woman's hair?" +</P> + +<P> +"And change black into the color of the sun?" added Philip, falling +purposely into the other's humor. +</P> + +<P> +"If the rest is true—" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre did not finish. He caught himself, swallowing hard, as though a +lump had risen in his throat, and for a moment or two Philip saw him +fighting with himself, struggling with the age-old superstitions which +had flared up for an instant like a powder-flash. His jaws tightened, +and he threw back his head. +</P> + +<P> +"But those stories are NOT true, M'sieu," he added in a repressed +voice. "That is why I showed you the snare. Bram Johnson is not dead. +He is alive. And there is a woman with him, or—" +</P> + +<P> +"Or—" +</P> + +<P> +The same thought was in their eyes again. And again neither gave voice +to it. Carefully Philip was gathering up the strands of hair, winding +them about his forefinger, and placing them afterward in a leather +wallet which he took from his pocket. Then, quite casually, he loaded +his pipe and lighted it. He went to the door, opened it, and for a few +moments stood listening to the screech of the wind over the Barren. +Pierre, still seated at the table, watched him attentively. Philip's +mind was made up when he closed the door and faced the half-breed again. +</P> + +<P> +"It is three hundred miles from here to Fort Churchill," he said. "Half +way, at the lower end of Jesuche Lake, MacVeigh and his patrol have +made their headquarters. If I go after Bram, Pierre, I must first make +certain of getting a message to MacVeigh, and he will see that it gets +to Fort Churchill. Can you leave your foxes and poison-baits and your +deadfalls long enough for that?" +</P> + +<P> +A moment Pierre hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +Then he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I will take the message." +</P> + +<P> +Until late that night Philip sat up writing his report. He had started +out to run down a band of Indian thieves. More important business had +crossed his trail, and he explained the whole matter to Superintendent +Fitzgerald, commanding "M" Division at Fort Churchill. He told Pierre +Breault's story as he had heard it. He gave his reasons for believing +it, and that Bram Johnson, three times a murderer, was alive. He asked +that another man be sent after the Indians, and explained, as nearly as +he could, the direction he would take in his pursuit of Bram. +</P> + +<P> +When the report was finished and sealed he had omitted just one thing. +</P> + +<P> +Not a word had he written about the rabbit snare woven from a woman's +hair. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<P> +The next morning the tail of the storm was still sweeping bitterly over +the edge of the Barren, but Philip set out, with Pierre Breault as his +guide, for the place where the half-breed had seen Bram Johnson and his +wolves in camp. Three days had passed since that exciting night, and +when they arrived at the spot where Bram had slept the spruce shelter +was half buried in a windrow of the hard, shot like snow that the +blizzard had rolled in off the open spaces. +</P> + +<P> +From this point Pierre marked off accurately the direction Bram had +taken the morning after the hunt, and Philip drew the point of his +compass to the now invisible trail. Almost instantly he drew his +conclusion. +</P> + +<P> +"Bram is keeping to the scrub timber along the edge of the Barren," he +said to Pierre. "That is where I shall follow. You might add that much +to what I have written to MacVeigh. But about the snare, Pierre +Breault, say not a word. Do you understand? If he is a loup-garou man, +and weaves golden hairs out of the winds—" +</P> + +<P> +"I will say nothing, M'sieu," shuddered Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +They shook hands, and parted in silence. Philip set his face to the +west, and a few moments later, looking back, he could no longer see +Pierre. For an hour after that he was oppressed by the feeling that he +was voluntarily taking a desperate chance. For reasons which he had +arrived at during the night he had left his dogs and sledge with +Pierre, and was traveling light. In his forty-pound pack, fitted snugly +to his shoulders, were a three pound silk service-tent that was +impervious to the fiercest wind, and an equal weight of cooking +utensils. The rest of his burden, outside of his rifle, his Colt's +revolver and his ammunition, was made up of rations, so much of which +was scientifically compressed into dehydrated and powder form that he +carried on his back, in a matter of thirty pounds, food sufficient for +a month if he provided his meat on the trail. The chief article in this +provision was fifteen pounds of flour; four dozen eggs he carried in +one pound of egg powder; twenty-eight pounds of potatoes in four pounds +of the dehydrated article; four pounds of onions in a quarter of a +pound of the concentration, and so on through the list. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed a little grimly as he thought of this concentrated +efficiency in the pack on his shoulders. In a curious sort of way it +reminded him of other days, and he wondered what some of his old-time +friends would say if he could, by some magic endowment, assemble them +here for a feast on the trail. He wondered especially what Mignon +Davenport would say—and do. P-f-f-f! He could see the blue-blooded +horror in her aristocratic face! That wind from over the Barren would +curdle the life in her veins. She would shrivel up and die. He +considered himself a fairly good judge in the matter, for once upon a +time he thought that he was going to marry her. Strange why he should +think of her now, he told himself; but for all that he could not get +rid of her for a time. And thinking of her, his mind traveled back into +the old days, even as he followed over the hidden trail of Bram. +Undoubtedly a great many of his old friends had forgotten him. Five +years was a long time, and friendship in the set to which he belonged +was not famous for its longevity. Nor love, for that matter. Mignon had +convinced him of that. He grimaced, and in the teeth of the wind he +chuckled. Fate was a playful old chap. It was a good joke he had played +on him—first a bit of pneumonia, then a set of bad lungs afflicted +with that "galloping" something-or-other that hollows one's cheeks and +takes the blood out of one's veins. It was then that the horror had +grown larger and larger each day in Mignon's big baby-blue eyes, until +she came out with childish frankness and said that it was terribly +embarrassing to have one's friends know that one was engaged to a +consumptive. +</P> + +<P> +Philip laughed as he thought of that. The laugh came so suddenly and so +explosively that Bram could have heard it a hundred yards away, even +with the wind blowing as it was. A consumptive! Philip doubled up his +arm until the hard muscles in it snapped. He drew in a deep lungful of +air, and forced it out again with a sound like steam escaping from a +valve. The NORTH had done that for him; the north with its wonderful +forests, its vast skies, its rivers, and its lakes, and its deep +snows—the north that makes a man out of the husk of a man if given +half a chance. He loved it. And because he loved it, and the adventure +of it, he had joined the Police two years ago. Some day he would go +back, just for the fun of it; meet his old friends in his old clubs, +and shock baby-eyed Mignon to death with his good health. +</P> + +<P> +He dropped these meditations as he thought of the mysterious man he was +following. During the course of his two years in the Service he had +picked up a great many odds and ends in the history of Bram's life, and +in the lives of the Johnsons who had preceded him. He had never told +any one how deeply interested he was. He had, at times, made efforts to +discuss the quality of Bram's intelligence, but always he had failed to +make others see and understand his point of view. By the Indians and +half-breeds of the country in which he had lived, Bram was regarded as +a monster of the first order possessed of the conjuring powers of the +devil himself. By the police he was earnestly desired as the most +dangerous murderer at large in all the north, and the lucky man who +captured him, dead or alive, was sure of a sergeantcy. Ambition and +hope had run high in many valiant hearts until it was generally +conceded that Bram was dead. +</P> + +<P> +Philip was not thinking of the sergeantcy as he kept steadily along the +edge of the Barren. His service would shortly be up, and he had other +plans for the future. From the moment his fingers had touched the +golden strand of hair he had been filled with a new and curious +emotion. It possessed him even more strongly to-day than it had last +night. He had not given voice to that emotion, or to the thoughts it +had roused, even to Pierre. Perhaps he was ridiculous. But he possessed +imagination, and along with that a great deal of sympathy for +animals—and some human beings. He had, for the time, ceased to be the +cool and calculating man-hunter intent on the possession of another's +life. He knew that his duty was to get Bram and take him back to +headquarters, and he also knew that he would perform his duty when the +opportunity came—unless he had guessed correctly the significance of +the golden snare. +</P> + +<P> +And had he guessed correctly? There was a tremendous doubt in his mind, +and yet he was strangely thrilled. He tried to argue that there were +many ways in which Bram might have secured the golden hairs that had +gone into the making of his snare; and that the snare itself might long +have been carried as a charm against the evils of disease and the devil +by the strange creature whose mind and life were undoubtedly directed +to a large extent by superstition. In that event it was quite logical +that Bram had come into possession of his golden talisman years ago. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of himself, Philip could not believe that this was so. At +noon, when he built a small fire to make tea and warm his bannock, he +took the golden tress from his wallet and examined it even more closely +than last night. It might have come from a woman's head only yesterday, +so bright and shimmery was it in the pale light of the midday sun. He +was amazed at the length and fineness of it, and the splendid texture +of each hair. Possibly there were half a hundred hairs, each of an +equal and unbroken length. +</P> + +<P> +He ate his dinner, and went on. Three days of storm had covered utterly +every trace of the trail made by Bram and his wolves. He was convinced, +however, that Bram would travel in the scrub timber close to the +Barren. He had already made up his mind that this Barren—the Great +Barren of the unmapped north—was the great snow sea in which Bram had +so long found safety from the law. Beaching five hundred miles east and +west, and almost from the Sixtieth degree to the Arctic Ocean, its +un-peopled and treeless wastes formed a tramping ground for him as safe +as the broad Pacific to the pirates of old. He could not repress a +shivering exclamation as his mind dwelt on this world of Bram's. It was +worse than the edge of the Arctic, where one might at least have the +Eskimo for company. +</P> + +<P> +He realized the difficulty of his own quest. His one chance lay in fair +weather, and the discovery of an old trail made by Bram and his pack. +An old trail would lead to fresher ones. Also he was determined to +stick to the edge of the scrub timber, for if the Barren was Bram's +retreat he would sooner or later strike a trail—unless Bram had gone +straight out into the vast white plain shortly after he had made his +camp in the forest near Pierre Breault's cabin. In that event it might +be weeks before Bram would return to the scrub timber again. +</P> + +<P> +That night the last of the blizzard that had raged for days exhausted +itself. For a week clear weather followed. It was intensely cold, but +no snow fell. In that week Philip traveled a hundred and twenty miles +westward. +</P> + +<P> +It was on the eighth night, as he sat near his fire in a thick clump of +dwarf spruce, that the thing happened which Pierre Breault, with a +fatalism born of superstition, knew would come to pass. And it is +curious that on this night, and in the very hour of the strange +happening, Philip had with infinite care and a great deal of trouble +rewoven the fifty hairs back into the form of the golden snare. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<P> +The night was so bright that the spruce trees cast vivid shadows on the +snow. Overhead there were a billion stars in a sky as dear as an open +sea, and the Great Dipper shone like a constellation of tiny suns. The +world did not need a moon. At a distance of three hundred yards Philip +could have seen a caribou if it had passed. He sat close to his fire, +with the heat of it reflected from the blackened face of a huge rock, +finishing the snare which had taken him an hour to weave. For a long +time he had been conscious of the curious, hissing monotone of the +Aurora, the "music of the skies," reaching out through the space of the +earth with a purring sound that was at times like the purr of a cat and +at others like the faint hum of a bee. Absorbed in his work he did not, +for a time, hear the other sound. Not until he had finished, and was +placing the golden snare in his wallet, did the one sound individualize +and separate itself from the other. +</P> + +<P> +He straightened himself suddenly, and listened. Then he jumped to his +feet and ran through fifty feet of low scrub to the edge of the white +plain. +</P> + +<P> +It was coming from off there, a great distance away. Perhaps a mile. It +might be two. The howling of wolves! +</P> + +<P> +It was not a new or unusual sound to him. He had listened to it many +times during the last two years. But never had it thrilled him as it +did now, and he felt the blood leap in sudden swiftness through his +body as the sound bore straight in his direction. In a flash he +remembered all that Pierre Breault had said. Bram and his pack hunted +like that. And it was Bram who was coming. He knew it. +</P> + +<P> +He ran back to his tent and in what remained of the heat of the fire he +warmed for a few moments the breech of his rifle. Then he smothered the +fire by kicking snow over it. Returning to the edge of the plain, he +posted himself near the largest spruce he could find, up which it would +be possible for him to climb a dozen feet or so if necessity drove him +to it. And this necessity bore down upon him like the wind. The pack, +whether guided by man or beast, was driving straight at him, and it was +less than a quarter of a mile away when Philip drew himself up in the +spruce. His breath came quick, and his heart was thumping like a drum, +for as he climbed up the slender refuge that was scarcely larger in +diameter than his arm he remembered the time when he had hung up a +thousand pounds of moose meat on cedars as thick as his leg, and the +wolves had come the next night and gnawed them through as if they had +been paper. From his unsteady perch ten feet off the ground he stared +out into the starlit Barren. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the other sound. It was the swift chug, chug, chug of +galloping feet—of hoofs breaking through the crust of the snow. A +shape loomed up, and Philip knew it was a caribou running for its life. +He drew an easier breath as he saw that the animal was fleeing parallel +with the projecting finger of scrub in which he had made his camp, and +that it would strike the timber a good mile below him. And now, with a +still deeper thrill, he noted the silence of the pursuing wolves. It +meant but one thing. They were so close on the heels of their prey that +they no longer made a sound. Scarcely had the caribou disappeared when +Philip saw the first of them—gray, swiftly moving shapes, spread out +fan-like as they closed in on two sides for attack, so close that he +could hear the patter of their feet and the blood-curdling whines that +came from between their gaping jaws. There were at least twenty of +them, perhaps thirty, and they were gone with the swiftness of shadows +driven by a gale. +</P> + +<P> +From his uncomfortable position Philip lowered himself to the snow +again. With its three or four hundred yard lead he figured that the +caribou would almost reach the timber a mile away before the end came. +Concealed in the shadow of the spruce, he waited. He made no effort to +analyze the confidence with which he watched for Bram. When he at last +heard the curious ZIP—ZIP—ZIP of snowshoes approaching his blood ran +no faster than it had in the preceding minutes of his expectation, so +sure had he been that the man he was after would soon loom up out of +the starlight. In the brief interval after the passing of the wolves he +had made up his mind what he would do. Fate had played a trump card +into his hand. From the first he had figured that strategy would have +much to do in the taking of Bram, who would be practically unassailable +when surrounded by the savage horde which, at a word from him, had +proved themselves ready to tear his enemies into pieces. Now, with the +wolves gorging themselves, his plan was to cut Bram off and make him, a +prisoner. +</P> + +<P> +From his knees he rose slowly to his feet, still hidden in the shadow +of the spruce. His rifle he discarded. In his un-mittened hand he held +his revolver. With staring eyes he looked for Bram out where the wolves +had passed. And then, all at once, came the shock. It was tremendous. +The trickery of sound on the Barren had played an unexpected prank with +his senses, and while he strained his eyes to pierce the hazy starlight +of the plain far out, Bram himself loomed up suddenly along the edge of +the bush not twenty paces away. +</P> + +<P> +Philip choked back the cry on his lips, and in that moment Bram stopped +short, standing full in the starlight, his great lungs taking in and +expelling air with a gasping sound as he listened for his wolves. He +was a giant of a man. A monster, Philip thought. It is probable that +the elusive glow of the night added to his size as he stood there. +About his shoulders fell a mass of unkempt hair that looked like +seaweed. His beard was short and thick, and for a flash Philip saw the +starlight in his eyes—eyes that were shining like the eyes of a cat. +In that same moment he saw the face. It was a terrible, questing +face—the face of a creature that was hunting, and yet hunted; of a +creature half animal and half man. So long as he lived he knew that he +would never forget it; the wild savagery of it, the questing fire that +was in the eyes, the loneliness of it there in the night, set apart +from all mankind; and with the face he would never forget that other +thing that came to him audibly—the throbbing, gasping heartbeat of the +man's body. +</P> + +<P> +In this moment Philip knew that the time to act was at hand. His +fingers gripped tighter about the butt of his revolver as he stepped +forward out of the shadow. +</P> + +<P> +Bram would have seen him then, but in that same instant he had flung +back his head and from his throat there went forth a cry such as Philip +had never heard from man or beast before. It began deep in Bram's +cavernous chest, like the rolling of a great drum, and ended in a +wailing shriek that must have carried for miles over the open +plain—the call of the master to his pack, of the man-beast to his +brothers. It may be that even before the cry was finished some +super-instinct had warned Bram Johnson of a danger which he had not +seen. The cry was cut short. It ended in a hissing gasp, as steam is +cut off by a valve. Before Philip's startled senses had adjusted +themselves to action Bram was off, and as his huge strides carried him +swiftly through the starlight the cry that had been on his lips was +replaced by the strange, mad laugh that Pierre Breault had described +with a shiver of fear. +</P> + +<P> +Without moving, Philip called after him: +</P> + +<P> +"Bram—Bram Johnson—stop! In the name of the King—" +</P> + +<P> +It was the old formula, the words that carried with them the majesty +and power of Law throughout the northland. Bram heard them. But he did +not stop. He sped on more swiftly, and again Philip called his name. +</P> + +<P> +"Bram—Bram Johnson—" +</P> + +<P> +The laugh came back again. It was weird and chuckling, as though Bram +was laughing at him. +</P> + +<P> +In the starlight Philip flung up his revolver. He did not aim to hit. +Twice he fired over Bram's head and shoulders, so close that the +fugitive must have heard the whine of the bullets. +</P> + +<P> +"Bram—Bram Johnson!" he shouted a third time. +</P> + +<P> +His pistol arm relaxed and dropped to his side, and he stood staring +after the great figure that was now no more than a shadow in the gloom. +And then it was swallowed up entirely. Once more he was alone under the +stars, encompassed by a world of nothingness. He felt, all at once, +that he had been a very great fool. He had played his part like a +child; even his voice had trembled as he called out Bram's name. And +Bram—even Bram—had laughed at him. +</P> + +<P> +Very soon he would pay the price of his stupidity—of his slowness to +act. It was thought of that which quickened his pulse as he stared out +into the white space into which Bram had gone. Before the night was +over Bram would return, and with him would come the wolves. +</P> + +<P> +With a shudder Philip thought of Corporal Lee as he turned back through +the scrub to the big rock where he had made his camp. +</P> + +<P> +The picture that flashed into his mind of the fate of the two men from +Churchill added to the painful realization of his own immediate +peril—a danger brought upon himself by an almost inconceivable +stupidity. Philip was no more than the average human with good red +blood in his veins. A certain amount of personal hazard held a +fascination for him, but he had also the very great human desire to +hold a fairly decent hand in any game of chance he entered. It was the +oppressive conviction that he had no chance now that stunned him. For a +few minutes he stood over the spot where his fire had been, a film of +steam rising into his face, trying to adjust his mind to some sort of +logical action. He was not afraid of Bram. He would quite cheerfully +have gone out and fought open-handedly for his man, even though he had +seen that Bram was a giant. This, much he told himself, as he fingered +the breech of his rifle, and listened. +</P> + +<P> +But it was not Bram who would fight. The wolves would come. He probably +would not see Bram again. He would hear only his laugh, or his great +voice urging on his pack, as Corporal Lee and the other man had heard +it. +</P> + +<P> +That Bram would not return for vengeance never for a moment entered his +analysis of the situation. By firing after his man Philip had too +clearly disclosed his identity and his business; and Bram, fighting for +his own existence, would be a fool not to rid himself of an immediate +and dangerous enemy. +</P> + +<P> +And then, for the first time since he had returned from the edge of the +Barren, Philip saw the man again as he had seen him standing under the +white glow of the stars. And it struck him, all at once, that Bram had +been unarmed. Comprehension of this fact, slow as it had been, worked a +swift and sudden hope in him, and his eyes took in quickly the larger +trees about him. From a tree he could fight the pack and kill them one +by one. He had a rifle and a revolver, and plenty of ammunition. The +advantage would lay all with him. But if he was treed, and Bram +happened to have a rifle— +</P> + +<P> +He put on the heavy coat he had thrown off near the fire, filled his +pockets with loose ammunition, and hunted for the tree he wanted. He +found it a hundred yards from his camp. It was a gnarled and wind-blown +spruce six inches in diameter, standing in an open. In this open Philip +knew that he could play havoc with the pack. On the other hand, if Bram +possessed a rifle, the gamble was against him. Perched in the tree, +silhouetted against the stars that made the night like day, he would be +an easy victim. Bram could pick him off without showing himself. But it +was his one chance, and he took it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<P> +An hour later Philip looked at his watch. It was close to midnight. In +that hour his nerves had been keyed to a tension that was almost at the +breaking point. Not a sound came from off the Barren or from out of the +scrub timber that did not hold a mental and physical shock for him. He +believed that Bram and his pack would come up quietly; that he would +not hear the man's footsteps or the soft pads of his beasts until they +were very near. Twice a great snow owl fluttered over his head. A third +time it pounced down upon a white hare back in the shrub, and for an +instant Philip thought the time had come. The little white foxes, +curious as children, startled him most. Half a dozen times they sent +through him the sharp thrill of anticipation, and twice they made him +climb his tree. +</P> + +<P> +After that hour the reaction came, and with the steadying of his nerves +and the quieter pulse of his blood Philip began to ask himself if he +was going to escape the ordeal which a short time before he had +accepted as a certainty. Was it possible that his shots had frightened +Bram? He could not believe that. Cowardice was the last thing he would +associate with the strange man he had seen in the starlight. Vividly he +saw Bram's face again. And now, after the almost unbearable strain he +had been under, a mysterious SOMETHING that had been in that face +impinged itself upon him above all other things. Wild and savage as the +face had been, he had seen in it the unutterable pathos of a creature +without hope. In that moment, even as caution held him listening for +the approach of danger, he no longer felt the quickening thrill of man +on the hunt for man. He could not have explained the change in +himself—the swift reaction of thought and emotion that filled him with +a mastering sympathy for Bram Johnson. +</P> + +<P> +He waited, and less and less grew his fear of the wolves. Even more +clearly he saw Bram as the time passed; the hunted look in the man's +eyes, even as he hunted—the loneliness of him as he had stood +listening for a sound from the only friends he had—the padded beasts +ahead. In spite of Bram's shrieking cry to his pack, and the +strangeness of the laugh that had floated back out of the white night +after the shots, Philip was convinced that he was not mad. He had heard +of men whom loneliness had killed. He had known one—Pelletier, up at +Point Fullerton, on the Arctic. He could repeat by heart the diary +Pelletier had left scribbled on his cabin door. It was worse than +madness. To Pelletier death had come at last as a friend. And Bram had +been like that—dead to human comradeship for years. And yet— +</P> + +<P> +Under it all, in Philip's mind, ran the thought of the woman's hair. In +Pierre Breault's cabin he had not given voice to the suspicion that had +flashed upon him. He had kept it to himself, and Pierre, afraid to +speak because of the horror of it, had remained as silent as he. The +thought oppressed him now. He knew that human hair retained its life +and its gloss indefinitely, and that Bram might have had the golden +snare for years. It was quite reasonable to suppose that he had +bartered for it with some white man in the years before he had become +an outlaw, and that some curious fancy or superstition had inspired him +in its possession. But Philip had ceased to be influenced by reason +alone. Sharply opposed to reason was that consciousness within him +which told him that the hair had been freshly cut from a woman's head. +He had no argument with which to drive home the logic of this belief +even with himself, and yet he found it impossible not to accept that +belief fully and unequivocally. There was, or HAD been, a woman with +Bram—and as he thought of the length and beauty and rare texture of +the silken strand in his pocket he could not repress a shudder at the +possibilities the situation involved. Bram—and a woman! And a woman +with hair like that! +</P> + +<P> +He left his tree after a time. For another hour he paced slowly back +and forth at the edge of the Barren, his senses still keyed to the +highest point of caution. Then he rebuilt his fire, pausing every few +moments in the operation to listen for a suspicious sound. It was very +cold. He noticed, after a little, that the weird sound of the lights +over the Pole had become only a ghostly whisper. The stars were growing +dimmer, and he watched them as they seemed slowly to recede farther and +farther away from the world of which he was a part. This dying out of +the stars always interested him. It was one of the miracles of the +northern world that lay just under the long Arctic night which, a few +hundred miles beyond the Barren, was now at its meridian. It seemed to +him as though ten thousand invisible hands were sweeping under the +heavens extinguishing the lights first in ones and twos and then in +whole constellations. It preceded by perhaps half an hour the utter and +chaotic blackness that comes before the northern dawn, and it was this +darkness that Philip dreaded as he waited beside his fire. +</P> + +<P> +In the impenetrable gloom of that hour Bram might come. It was possible +that he had been waiting for that darkness. Philip looked at his watch. +It was four o'clock. Once more he went to his tree, and waited. In +another quarter of an hour he could not see the tree beside which he +stood. And Bram did not come. With the beginning of the gray dawn +Philip rebuilt his fire for the third time and prepared to cook his +breakfast. He felt the need of coffee—strong coffee—and he boiled +himself a double ration. At seven o'clock he was ready to take up the +trail. +</P> + +<P> +He believed now that some mysterious and potent force had restrained +Bram Johnson from taking advantage of the splendid opportunity of that +night to rid himself of an enemy. As he made his way through the scrub +timber along the edge of the Barren it was with the feeling that he no +longer desired Bram as a prisoner. A thing more interesting than Bram +had entered into the adventure. It was the golden snare. Not with Bram +himself, but only at the end of Bram's trail, would he find what the +golden snare stood for. There he would discover the mystery and the +tragedy of it, if it meant anything at all. He appreciated the extreme +hazard of following Bram to his long hidden retreat. The man he might +outwit in pursuit and overcome in fair fight, if it came to a fight, +but against the pack he was fighting tremendous odds. +</P> + +<P> +What this odds meant had not fully gripped him until he came cautiously +out of the timber half an hour later and saw what was left of the +caribou the pack had killed. The bull had fallen within fifty yards of +the edge of the scrub. For a radius of twenty feet about it the snow +was beaten hard by the footprints of beasts, and this arena was stained +red with blood and scattered thickly with bits of flesh, broken bones +and patches of hide. Philip could see where Bram had come in on the +run, and where he had kicked off his snowshoes. After that his great +moccasin tracks mingled with those of the wolves. Bram had evidently +come in time to save the hind quarters, which had been dragged to a +spot well out of the red ring of slaughter. After that the stars must +have looked down upon an amazing scene. The hungry horde had left +scarcely more than the disemboweled offal. Where Bram had dragged his +meat there was a small circle worn by moccasin tracks, and here, too, +were small bits of flesh, scattered about—the discarded remnants of +Bram's own feast. +</P> + +<P> +The snow told as clearly as a printed page what had happened after +that. Its story amazed Philip. From somewhere Bram had produced a +sledge, and on this sledge he had loaded what remained of the caribou +meat. From the marks in the snow Philip saw that it had been of the low +ootapanask type, but that it was longer and broader than any sledge he +had ever seen. He did not have to guess at what had happened. +Everything was too clear for that. Far back on the Barren Bram had +loosed his pack at sight of the caribou, and the pursuit and kill had +followed. After that, when beasts and man had gorged themselves, they +had returned through the night for the sledge. Bram had made a wide +detour so that he would not again pass near the finger of scrub timber +that concealed his enemy, and with a curious quickening of the blood in +his veins Philip observed how closely the pack hung at his heels. The +man was master—absolutely. Later they had returned with the sledge, +Bram had loaded his meat, and with his pack had struck out straight +north over the Barren. Every wolf was in harness, and Bram rode on the +sledge. +</P> + +<P> +Philip drew a deep breath. He was learning new things about Bram +Johnson. First he assured himself that Bram was not afraid, and that +his disappearance could not be called a flight. If fear of capture had +possessed him he would not have returned for his meat. Suddenly he +recalled Pierre Breault's story of how Bram had carried off the +haunches of a bull upon his shoulders as easily as a child might have +carried a toy gun, and he wondered why Bram—instead of returning for +the meat this night—had not carried the meat to his sledge. It would +have saved time and distance. He was beginning to give Bram credit for +a deeply mysterious strategy. There was some definite reason why he had +not made an attack with his wolves that night. There was a reason for +the wide detour around the point of timber, and there was a still more +inexplicable reason why he had come back with his sledge for the meat, +instead of carrying his meat to the sledge. The caribou haunch had not +weighed more than sixty or seventy pounds, which was scarcely half a +burden for Bram's powerful shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +In the edge of the timber, where he could secure wood for his fire, +Philip began to prepare. He cooked food for six days. Three days he +would follow Bram out into that unmapped and treeless space—the Great +Barren. Beyond that it would be impossible to go without dogs or +sledge. Three days out, and three days back—and even at that he would +be playing a thrilling game with death. In the heart of the Barren a +menace greater than Bram and his wolves would be impending. It was +storm. +</P> + +<P> +His heart sank a little as he set out straight north, marking the +direction by the point of his compass. It was a gray and sunless day. +Beyond him for a distance the Barren was a white plain, and this plain +seemed always to be merging not very far ahead into the purple haze of +the sky. At the end of an hour he was in the center of a vast +amphitheater which was filled with the gloom and the stillness of +death. Behind him the thin fringe of the forest had disappeared. The +rim of the sky was like a leaden thing, widening only as he advanced. +Under that sky, and imprisoned within its circular walls, he knew that +men had gone mad; he felt already the crushing oppression of an +appalling loneliness, and for another hour he fought an almost +irresistible desire to turn back. Not a rock or a shrub rose to break +the monotony, and over his head—so low that at times it seemed as +though he might have flung a stone up to them—dark clouds rolled +sullenly from out of the north and east. +</P> + +<P> +Half a dozen times in those first two hours he looked at his compass. +Not once in that time did Bram diverge from his steady course into the +north. In the gray gloom, without a stone or a tree to mark his way, +his sense of orientation was directing him as infallibly as the +sensitive needle of the instrument which Philip carried. +</P> + +<P> +It was in the third hour, seven or eight miles from the scene of +slaughter, that Philip came upon the first stopping place of the +sledge. The wolves had not broken their traveling rank, and for this +reason he guessed that Bram had paused only long enough to put on his +snowshoes. After this Philip could measure quite accurately the speed +of the outlaw and his pack. Bram's snow-shoe strides were from twelve +to sixteen inches longer than his own, and there was little doubt that +Bram was traveling six miles to his four. +</P> + +<P> +It was one o'clock when Philip stopped to eat his dinner. He figured +that he was fifteen miles from the timber-line. As he ate there pressed +upon him more and more persistently the feeling that he had entered +upon an adventure which was leading toward inevitable disaster for him. +For the first time the significance of Bram's supply of meat, secured +by the outlaw at the last moment before starting out into the Barren, +appeared to him with a clearness that filled him with uneasiness. It +meant that Bram required three or four days' rations for himself and +his pack in crossing this sea of desolation that reached in places to +the Arctic. In that time, if necessity was driving him, he could cover +a hundred and fifty miles, while Philip could make less than a hundred. +</P> + +<P> +Until three o'clock in the afternoon he followed steadily over Bram's +trail. He would have pursued for another hour if a huge and dome-shaped +snowdrift had not risen in his path. In the big drift he decided to +make his house for the night. It was an easy matter—a trick learned of +the Eskimo. With his belt-ax he broke through the thick crust of the +drift, using care that the "door" he thus opened into it was only large +enough for the entrance of his body. Using a snowshoe as a shovel he +then began digging out the soft interior of the drift, burrowing a two +foot tunnel until he was well back from the door, where he made himself +a chamber large enough for his sleeping-bag. The task employed him less +than an hour, and when his bed was made, and he stood in front of the +door to his igloo, his spirits began to return. The assurance that he +had a home at his back in which neither cold nor storm could reach him +inspirited him with an optimism which he had not felt at any time +during the day. +</P> + +<P> +From the timber he had borne a precious bundle of finely split +kindlings of pitch-filled spruce, and with a handful of these he built +himself a tiny fire over which, on a longer stick brought for the +purpose, he suspended his tea pail, packed with snow. The crackling of +the flames set him whistling. Darkness was falling swiftly about him. +By the time his tea was ready and he had warmed his cold bannock and +bacon the gloom was like a black curtain that he might have slit with a +knife. Not a star was visible in the sky. Twenty feet on either side of +him he could not see the surface of the snow. Now and then he added a +bit of his kindling to the dying embers, and in the glow of the last +stick he smoked his pipe, and as he smoked he drew from his wallet the +golden snare. Coiled in the hollow of his hand and catching the red +light of the pitch-laden fagot it shone with the rich luster of rare +metal. Not until the pitch was burning itself out in a final sputter of +flame did Philip replace it in the wallet. +</P> + +<P> +With the going of the fire an utter and chaotic blackness shut him in. +Feeling his way he crawled through the door of his tunnel, over the +inside of which he had fastened as a flap his silk service tent. Then +he stretched himself out in his sleeping-bag. It was surprisingly +comfortable. Since he had left Breault's cabin he had not enjoyed such +a bed. And last night he had not slept at all. He fell into deep sleep. +The hours and the night passed over him. He did not hear the wailing of +the wind that came with the dawn. When day followed dawn there were +other sounds which he did not hear. His inner consciousness, the +guardian of his sleep, cried for him to arouse himself. It pounded like +a little hand in his brain, and at last he began to move restlessly, +and twist in his sleeping-bag. His eyes shot open suddenly. The light +of day filled his tunnel. He looked toward the "door" which he had +covered with his tent. +</P> + +<P> +The tent was gone. +</P> + +<P> +In its place was framed a huge shaggy head, and Philip found himself +staring straight into the eyes of Bram Johnson. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<P> +Philip was not unaccustomed to the occasional mental and physical shock +which is an inevitable accompaniment of the business of Law in the +northland. But never had he felt quite the same stir in his blood as +now—when he found himself looking down the short tunnel into the face +of the man he was hunting. +</P> + +<P> +There come now and then moments in which a curious understanding is +impinged upon one without loss of time in reason and surmise—and this +was one of those moments for Philip. His first thought as he saw the +great wild face in the door of his tunnel was that Bram had been +looking at him for some time—while he was asleep; and that if the +desire to kill had been in the outlaw's breast he might have achieved +his purpose with very little trouble. Equally swift was his observance +of the fact that the tent with which he had covered the aperture was +gone, and that his rifle, with the weight of which he had held the tent +in place, had disappeared. Bram had secured possession of them before +he had roused himself. +</P> + +<P> +It was not the loss of these things, or entirely Bram's sudden and +unexpected appearance, that sent through him the odd thrill, which he +experienced. It was Bram's face, his eyes, the tense and mysterious +earnestness that was in his gaze. It was not the watchfulness of a +victor looking at his victim. In it there was no sign of hatred or of +exultation. There was not even unfriendliness there. Rather it was the +study of one filled with doubt and uneasiness, and confronted by a +question which he could not answer. There was not a line of the face +which Philip could not see now—its high cheek-bones, its wide cheeks, +the low forehead, the flat nose, the thick lips. Only the eyes kept it +from being a terrible face. Straight down through the generations Bram +must have inherited those eyes from some woman of the past. They were +strange things in that wild and hunted creature's face—gray eyes, +large, beautiful. With the face taken away they would have been +wonderful. +</P> + +<P> +For a full minute not a sound passed between the two men. Philip's hand +had slipped to the butt of his revolver, but he had no intention of +using it. Then he found his voice. It seemed the most natural thing in +the world that he should say what he did. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Bram!" +</P> + +<P> +"Boo-joo, m'sieu!" +</P> + +<P> +Only Bram's thick lips moved. His voice was low and guttural. Almost +instantly his head disappeared from the opening. +</P> + +<P> +Philip dug himself quickly from his sleeping-bag. Through the aperture +there came to him now another sound, the yearning whine of beasts. He +could not hear Bram. In spite of the confidence which his first look at +Bram had given him he felt a sudden shiver run up his spine as he faced +the end of the tunnel on his hands and knees, his revolver in his hand. +What a rat in a trap he would be if Bram loosed his wolves! What sport +for the pack—and perhaps for the master himself! He could kill two or +three—and that would be all. They would be in on him like a whirlwind, +diving through his snow walls as easily as a swimmer might cut through +water. Had he twice made a fool of himself? Should he have winged Bram +Johnson, three times a murderer, in place of offering him a greeting? +</P> + +<P> +He began crawling toward the opening, and again he heard the snarl and +whine of the beasts. The sound seemed some distance away. He reached +the end of the tunnel and peered out through the "door" he had made in +the crust. +</P> + +<P> +From his position he could see nothing—nothing but the endless sweep +of the Barren and his old trail leading up to the snow dune. The muzzle +of his revolver was at the aperture when he heard Bram's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"M'sieu—ze revolv'—ze knife—or I mus' keel yon. Ze wolve plent' +hungr'—" +</P> + +<P> +Bram was standing just outside of his line of vision. He had not spoken +loudly or threateningly, but Philip felt in the words a cold and +unexcited deadliness of purpose against which he knew that it would be +madness for him to fight. Bram had more than the bad man's ordinary +drop on him. In his wolves he possessed not only an advantage but a +certainty. If Philip had doubted this, as he waited for another moment +with the muzzle of his revolver close to the opening, his uncertainty +was swept away by the appearance thirty feet in front of his tunnel of +three of Bram's wolves. They were giants of their kind, and as the +three faced his refuge he could see the snarling gleam of their long +fangs. A fourth and a fifth joined them, and after that they came +within his vision in twos and threes until a score of them were huddled +straight in front of him. They were restless and whining, and the snap +of their jaws was like the clicking of castanets. He caught the glare +of twenty pairs of eyes fastened on his retreat and involuntarily he +shrank back that they might not see him. He knew that it was Bram who +was holding them back, and yet he had heard no word, no command. Even +as he stared a long snakelike shadow uncurled itself swiftly in the air +and the twenty foot lash of Bram's caribou-gut whip cracked viciously +over the heads of the pack. At the warning of the whip the horde of +beasts scattered, and Bram's voice came again. +</P> + +<P> +"M'sieu—ze revolv'—ze knife—or I loose ze wolve—" +</P> + +<P> +The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Philip's revolver flew +through the opening and dropped in the snow. +</P> + +<P> +"There it is, old man," announced Philip. "And here comes the knife." +</P> + +<P> +His sheath-knife followed the revolver. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I throw out my bed?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +He was making a tremendous effort to appear cheerful. But he could not +forget that last night he had shot at Bram, and that it was not at all +unreasonable to suppose that Bram might knock his brains out when he +stuck his head out of the hole. The fact that Bram made no answer to +his question about the bed did not add to his assurance. He repeated +the question, louder than before, and still there was no answer. In the +face of his perplexity he could not repress a grim chuckle as he rolled +up his blankets. What a report he would have for the Department—if he +lived to make it! On paper there would be a good deal of comedy about +it—this burrowing oneself up like a hibernating woodchuck, and then +being invited out to breakfast by a man with a club and a pack of +brutes with fangs that had gleamed at him like ivory stilettos. He had +guessed at the club, and a moment later as he thrust his sleeping-bag +out through the opening he saw that it was quite obviously a correct +one. Bram was possessing himself of the revolver and the knife. In the +same hand he held his whip and a club. +</P> + +<P> +Seizing the opportunity, Philip followed his bed quickly, and when Bram +faced him he was standing on his feet outside the drift. +</P> + +<P> +"Morning, Bram!" +</P> + +<P> +His greeting was drowned in a chorus of fierce snarls that made his +blood curdle even as he tried to hide from Bram any visible betrayal of +the fact that every nerve up and down his spine was pricking him, like +a pin. From Bram's throat there shot forth at the pack a sudden sharp +clack of Eskimo, and with it the long whip snapped in their faces again. +</P> + +<P> +Then he looked steadily at his prisoner. For the first time Philip saw +the look which he dreaded darkening his face. A greenish fire burned in +the strange eyes. The thick lips were set tightly, the flat nose seemed +flatter, and with a shiver Philip noticed Bram's huge, naked hand +gripping his club until the cords stood out like babiche thongs under +the skin. In that moment he was ready to kill. A wrong word, a wrong +act, and Philip knew that the end was inevitable. +</P> + +<P> +In the same thick guttural voice which he used in his half-breed patois +he demanded, +</P> + +<P> +"Why you shoot—las' night!" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I wanted to talk with you, Bram," replied Philip calmly. "I +didn't shoot to hit you. I fired over your head." +</P> + +<P> +"You want—talk," said Bram, speaking as if each word cost him a +certain amount of effort. "Why—talk?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted to ask you why it was that you killed a man down in the God's +Lake country." +</P> + +<P> +The words were out before Philip could stop them. A growl rose in +Bram's chest. It was like the growl of a beast. The greenish fire in +his eyes grew brighter. +</P> + +<P> +"Ze poleece," he said. "KA, ze poleece—like kam from Churchill an' ze +wolve keel!" +</P> + +<P> +Philip's hand was fumbling in his pocket. The wolves were behind him +and he dared not turn to look. It was their ominous silence that filled +him with dread. They were waiting—watching—their animal instinct +telling them that the command for which they yearned was already +trembling on the thick lips of their master. The revolver and the knife +dropped from Bram's hand. He held only the whip and the club. +</P> + +<P> +Philip drew forth the wallet. +</P> + +<P> +"You lost something—when you camped that night near Pierre Breault's +cabin," he said, and his own voice seemed strange and thick to him. +"I've followed you—to give it back. I could have killed you if I had +wanted to—when I fired over your head. But I wanted to stop you. I +wanted to give you—this." +</P> + +<P> +He held out to Bram the golden snare. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<P> +It must have been fully half a minute that Bram stood like a living +creature turned suddenly into dead stone. His eyes had left Philip's +face and were fixed on the woven tress of shining hair. For the first +time his thick lips had fallen agape. He did not seem to breathe. At +the end of the thirty seconds his hand unclenched from about the whip +and the club and they fell into the snow. Slowly, his eyes still fixed +on the snare as if it held for him an overpowering fascination, he +advanced a step, and then another, until he reached out and took from +Philip the thing which he held. He uttered no word. But from his eyes +there disappeared the greenish fire. The lines in his heavy face +softened and his thick lips lost some of their cruelty as he held up +the snare before his eyes so that the light played on its sheen of +gold. It was then that Philip saw that which must have meant a smile in +Bram's face. +</P> + +<P> +Still this strange man made no spoken sound as he coiled the silken +thread around one of his great fingers and then placed it somewhere +inside his coat. He seemed, all at once, utterly oblivious of Philip's +presence. He picked up the revolver, gazed heavily at it for a moment, +and with a grunt which must have reflected his mental decision hurled +it far out over the plain. Instantly the wolves were after it in a mad +rush. The knife followed the revolver; and after that, as coolly as +though breaking firewood, the giant went to Philip's rifle, braced it +across his knee, and with a single effort snapped the stock off close +to the barrel. +</P> + +<P> +"The devil!" growled Philip. +</P> + +<P> +He felt a surge of anger rise in him, and for an instant the +inclination to fling himself at Bram in the defense of his property. If +he had been helpless a few minutes before, he was utterly so now. In +the same breath it flashed upon him that Bram's activity in the +destruction of his weapons meant that his life was spared, at least for +the present. Otherwise Bram would not be taking these precautions. +</P> + +<P> +The futility of speech kept his own lips closed. At last Bram looked at +him, and pointed to his snowshoes where he had placed them last night +against the snow dune. His invitation for Philip to prepare himself for +travel was accompanied by nothing more than a grunt. +</P> + +<P> +The wolves were returning, sneaking in watchfully and alert. Bram +greeted them with the snap of his whip, and when Philip was ready +motioned him to lead the way into the north. Half a dozen paces behind +Philip followed Bram, and twice that distance behind the outlaw came +the pack. Now that his senses were readjusting themselves and his pulse +beating more evenly Philip began to take stock of the situation. It +was, first of all, quite evident that Bram had not accepted him as a +traveling companion, but as a prisoner; and he was equally convinced +that the golden snare had at the last moment served in some mysterious +way to save his life. +</P> + +<P> +It was not long before he saw how Bram had out-generaled him. Two miles +beyond the big drift they came upon the outlaw's huge sledge, from +which Bram and his wolves had made a wide circle in order to stalk him +from behind. The fact puzzled him. Evidently Bram had expected his +unknown enemy to pursue him, and had employed his strategy accordingly. +Why, then, had he not attacked him the night of the caribou kill? +</P> + +<P> +He watched Bram as he got the pack into harness. The wolves obeyed him +like dogs. He could perceive among them a strange comradeship, even an +affection, for the man-monster who was their master. Bram spoke to them +entirely in Eskimo—and the sound of it was like the rapid +CLACK—CLACK—CLACK of dry bones striking together. It was weirdly +different from the thick and guttural tones Bram used in speaking +Chippewyan and the half-breed patois. +</P> + +<P> +Again Philip made an effort to induce Bram to break his oppressive +silence. With a suggestive gesture and a hunch of his shoulders he +nodded toward the pack, just as they were about to start. +</P> + +<P> +"If you thought I tried to kill you night before last why didn't you +set your wolves after me, Bram—as you did those other two over on the +Barren north of Kasba Lake? Why did you wait until this morning? And +where—WHERE in God's name are we going?" +</P> + +<P> +Bram stretched out an arm. +</P> + +<P> +"There!" +</P> + +<P> +It was the one question he answered, and he pointed straight as the +needle of a compass into the north. And then, as if his crude sense of +humor had been touched by the other thing Philip had asked, he burst +into a laugh. It made one shudder to see laughter in a face like +Bram's. It transformed his countenance from mere ugliness into one of +the leering gargoyles carven under the cornices of ancient buildings. +It was this laugh, heard almost at Bram's elbow, that made Philip +suddenly grip hard at a new understanding—the laugh and the look in +Bram's eyes. It set him throbbing, and filled him all at once with the +desire to seize his companion by his great shoulders and shake speech +from his thick lips. In that moment, even before the laughter had gone +from Bram's face, he thought again of Pelletier. Pelletier must have +been like this—in those terrible days when he scribbled the random +thoughts of a half-mad man on his cabin door. +</P> + +<P> +Bram was not yet mad. And yet he was fighting the thing that had killed +Pelletier. Loneliness. The fate forced upon him by the law because he +had killed a man. +</P> + +<P> +His face was again heavy and unemotional when with a gesture he made +Philip understand that he was to ride on the sledge. Bram himself went +to the head of the pack. At the sharp clack of his Eskimo the wolves +strained in their traces. Another moment and they were off, with Bram +in the lead. +</P> + +<P> +Philip was amazed at the pace set by the master of the pack. With head +and shoulders hunched low he set off in huge swinging strides that kept +the team on a steady trot behind him. They must have traveled eight +miles an hour. For a few minutes Philip could not keep his eyes from +Bram and the gray backs of the wolves. They fascinated him, and at the +same time the sight of them—straining on ahead of him into a voiceless +and empty world—filled him with a strange and overwhelming compassion. +He saw in them the brotherhood of man and beast. It was splendid. It +was epic. And to this the Law had driven them! +</P> + +<P> +His eyes began to take in the sledge then. On it was a roll of bear +skins—Bram's blankets. One was the skin of a polar bear. Near these +skins were the haunches of caribou meat, and so close to him that he +might have reached out and touched it was Bram's club. At the side of +the club lay a rifle. It was of the old breech-loading, single-shot +type, and Philip wondered why Bram had destroyed his own modern weapon +instead of keeping it in place of this ancient Company relic. It also +made him think of night before last, when he had chosen for his refuge +a tree out in the starlight. +</P> + +<P> +The club, even more than the rifle, bore marks of use. It was of birch, +and three feet in length. Where Bram's hand gripped it the wood was +worn as smooth and dark as mahogany. In many places the striking end of +the club was dented as though it had suffered the impact of tremendous +blows, and it was discolored by suggestive stains. There was no sign of +cooking utensils and no evidence of any other food but the caribou +flesh. On the rear of the sledge was a huge bundle of pitch-soaked +spruce tied with babiche, and out of this stuck the crude handle of an +ax. +</P> + +<P> +Of these things the gun and the white bear skin impressed Philip most. +He had only to lean forward a little to reach the rifle, and the +thought that he could scarcely miss the broad back of the man ahead of +him struck him all at once with a sort of mental shock. Bram had +evidently forgotten the weapon, or was utterly confident in the +protection of the pack. Or—had he faith in his prisoner? It was this +last question that Philip would liked to have answered in the +affirmative. He had no desire to harm Bram. He had even a less desire +to escape him. He had forgotten, so far as his personal intentions were +concerned, that he was an agent of the Law—under oath to bring in to +Divisional Headquarters Bram's body dead or alive. Since night before +last Bram had ceased to be a criminal for him. He was like Pelletier, +and through him he was entering upon a strange adventure which held for +him already the thrill and suspense of an anticipation which he had +never experienced in the game of man-hunting. +</P> + +<P> +Had the golden snare been taken from the equation—had he not felt the +thrill of it in his fingers and looked upon the warm fires of it as it +lay unbound on Pierre Breault's table, his present relation with Bram +Johnson he would have considered as a purely physical condition, and he +might then have accepted the presence of the rifle there within his +reach as a direct invitation from Providence. +</P> + +<P> +As it was, he knew that the master of the wolves was speeding swiftly +to the source of the golden snare. From the moment he had seen the +strange transformation it had worked in Bram that belief within him had +become positive. And now, as his eyes turned from the inspection of the +sledge to Bram and his wolves, he wondered where the trail was taking +him. Was it possible that Bram was striking straight north for +Coronation Gulf and the Eskimo? He had noted that the polar bear skin +was only slightly worn—that it had not long been taken from the back +of the animal that had worn it. He recalled what he could remember of +his geography. Their course, if continued in the direction Bram was now +heading, would take them east of the Great Slave and the Great Bear, +and they would hit the Arctic somewhere between Melville Sound and the +Coppermine River. It was a good five hundred miles to the Eskimo +settlements there. Bram and his wolves could make it in ten days, +possibly in eight. +</P> + +<P> +If his guess was correct, and Coronation Gulf was Bram's goal, he had +found at least one possible explanation for the tress of golden hair. +</P> + +<P> +The girl or woman to whom it had belonged had come into the north +aboard a whaling ship. Probably she was the daughter or the wife of the +master. The ship had been lost in the ice—she had been saved by the +Eskimo—and she was among them now, with other white men. Philip +pictured it all vividly. It was unpleasant—horrible. The theory of +other white men being with her he was conscious of forcing upon himself +to offset the more reasonable supposition that, as in the case of the +golden snare, she belonged to Bram. He tried to free himself of that +thought, but it clung to him with a tenaciousness that oppressed him +with a grim and ugly foreboding. What a monstrous fate for a woman! He +shivered. For a few moments every instinct in his body fought to assure +him that such a thing could not happen. And yet he knew that it COULD +happen. A woman up there—with Bram! A woman with hair like spun +gold—and that giant half-mad enormity of a man! +</P> + +<P> +He clenched his hands at the picture his excited brain was painting for +him. He wanted to jump from the sledge, overtake Bram, and demand the +truth from him. He was calm enough to realize the absurdity of such +action. Upon his own strategy depended now whatever answer he might +make to the message chance had sent to him through the golden snare. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour he marked Bram's course by his compass. It was straight +north. Then Bram changed the manner of his progress by riding in a +standing position behind Philip. With his long whip he urged on the +pack until they were galloping over the frozen level of the plain at a +speed that must have exceeded ten miles an hour. A dozen times Philip +made efforts at conversation. Not a word did he get from Bram in reply. +Again and again the outlaw shouted to his wolves in Eskimo; he cracked +his whip, he flung his great arms over his head, and twice there rolled +out of his chest deep peals of strange laughter. They had been +traveling more than two hours when he gave voice to a sudden command +that stopped the pack, and at a second command—a staccato of shrill +Eskimo accompanied by the lash of his whip—the panting wolves sank +upon their bellies in the snow. +</P> + +<P> +Philip jumped from the sledge, and Bram went immediately to the gun. He +did not touch it, but dropped on his knees and examined it closely. +Then he rose to his feet and looked at Philip, and there was no sign of +madness in his heavy face as he said, +</P> + +<P> +"You no touch ze gun, m'sieu. Why you no shoot when I am there—at head +of pack?" +</P> + +<P> +The calmness and directness with which Bram put the question after his +long and unaccountable silence surprised Philip. +</P> + +<P> +"For the same reason you didn't kill me when I was asleep, I guess," he +said. Suddenly he reached out and caught Bram's arm. "Why the devil +don't you come across!" he demanded. "Why don't you talk? I'm not after +you—now. The Police think you are dead, and I don't believe I'd tip +them off even if I had a chance. Why not be human? Where are we going? +And what in thunder—" +</P> + +<P> +He did not finish. To his amazement Bram flung back his head, opened +his great mouth, and laughed. It was not a taunting laugh. There was no +humor in it. The thing seemed beyond the control of even Bram himself, +and Philip stood like one paralyzed as his companion turned quickly to +the sledge and returned in a moment with the gun. Under Philip's eyes +he opened the breech. The chamber was empty. Bram had placed in his way +a temptation—to test him! +</P> + +<P> +There was saneness in that stratagem—and yet as Philip looked at the +man now his last doubt was gone. Bram Johnson was hovering on the +borderland of madness. +</P> + +<P> +Replacing the gun on the sledge, Bram began hacking off chunks of the +caribou flesh with a big knife. Evidently he had decided that it was +time for himself and his pack to breakfast. To each of the wolves he +gave a portion, after which he seated himself on the sledge and began +devouring a slice of the raw meat. He had left the blade of his knife +buried in the carcass—an invitation for Philip to help himself. Philip +seated himself near Bram and opened his pack. Purposely he began +placing his food between them, so that the other might help himself if +he so desired. Bram's jaws ceased their crunching. For a moment Philip +did not look up. When he did he was startled. Bram's eyes were blazing +with a red fire. He was staring at the cooked food. Never had Philip +seen such a look in a human face before. +</P> + +<P> +He reached out and seized a chunk of bannock, and was about to bite +into it when with the snarl of a wild beast Bram dropped his meat and +was at him. Before Philip could raise an arm in defense his enemy had +him by the throat. Back over the sledge they went. Philip scarcely knew +how it happened—but in another moment the giant had hurled him clean +over his head and he struck the frozen plain with a shock that stunned +him. When he staggered to his feet, expecting a final assault that +would end him, Bram was kneeling beside his pack. A mumbling and +incoherent jargon of sound issued from his thick lips as he took stock +of Philip's supplies. Of Philip himself he seemed now utterly +oblivious. Still mumbling, he dragged the pile of bear skins from the +sledge, unrolled them, and revealed a worn and tattered dunnage bag. At +first Philip thought this bag was empty. Then Bram drew from it a few +small packages, some of them done up in paper and others in bark. Only +one of these did Philip recognize—a half pound package of tea such as +the Hudson's Bay Company offers in barter at its stores. Into the +dunnage bag Bram now put Philip's supplies, even to the last crumb of +bannock, and then returned the articles he had taken out, after which +he rolled the bag up in the bear skins and replaced the skins on the +sledge. +</P> + +<P> +After that, still mumbling, and still paying no attention to Philip, he +reseated himself on the edge of the sledge and finished his breakfast +of raw meat. +</P> + +<P> +"The poor devil!" mumbled Philip. +</P> + +<P> +The words were out of his mouth before he realized that he had spoken +them. He was still a little dazed by the shock of Bram's assault, but +it was impossible for him to bear malice or thought of vengeance. In +Bram's face, as he had covetously piled up the different articles of +food, he had seen the terrible glare of starvation—and yet he had not +eaten a mouthful. He had stored the food away, and Philip knew it was +as much as his life was worth to contend its ownership. +</P> + +<P> +Again Bram seemed to be unconscious of his presence, but when Philip +went to the meat and began carving himself off a slice the wolf-man's +eyes shot in his direction just once. Purposely he stood in front of +Bram as he ate the raw steak, feigning a greater relish than he +actually enjoyed in consuming his uncooked meal. Bram did not wait for +him to finish. No sooner had he swallowed the last of his own breakfast +than he was on his feet giving sharp commands to the pack. Instantly +the wolves were alert in their traces. Philip took his former position +on the sledge, with Bram behind him. +</P> + +<P> +Never in all the years afterward did he forget that day. As the hours +passed it seemed to him that neither man nor beast could very long +stand the strain endured by Bram and his wolves. At times Bram rode on +the sledge for short distances, but for the most part he was running +behind, or at the head of the pack. For the pack there was no rest. +Hour after hour it surged steadily onward over the endless plain, and +whenever the wolves sagged for a moment in their traces Brain's whip +snapped over their gray backs and his voice rang out in fierce +exhortation. So hard was the frozen crust of the Barren that snowshoes +were no longer necessary, and half a dozen times Philip left the sledge +and ran with the wolf-man and his pack until he was winded. Twice he +ran shoulder to shoulder with Bram. +</P> + +<P> +It was in the middle of the afternoon that his compass told him they +were no longer traveling north—but almost due west. Every quarter of +an hour after that he looked at his compass. And always the course was +west. +</P> + +<P> +He was convinced that some unusual excitement was urging Bram on, and +he was equally certain this excitement had taken possession of him from +the moment he had found the food in his pack. Again and again he heard +the strange giant mumbling incoherently to himself, but not once did +Bram utter a word that he could understand. +</P> + +<P> +The gray world about them was darkening when at last they stopped. +</P> + +<P> +And now, strangely as before, Bram seemed for a few moments to turn +into a sane man. +</P> + +<P> +He pointed to the bundle of fuel, and as casually as though he had been +conversing with him all the day he said to Philip: +</P> + +<P> +"A fire, m'sieu." +</P> + +<P> +The wolves had dropped in their traces, their great shaggy heads +stretched out between their paws in utter exhaustion, and Bram went +slowly down the line speaking to each one in turn. After that he fell +again into his stolid silence. From the bear skins he produced a +kettle, filled it with snow, and hung it over the pile of fagots to +which Philip was touching a match. Philip's tea pail he employed in the +same way. +</P> + +<P> +"How far have we come, Bram?" Philip asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Fift' mile, m'sieu," answered Bram without hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +"And how much farther have we to go?" +</P> + +<P> +Bram grunted. His face became more stolid. In his hand he was holding +the big knife with which he cut the caribou meat. He was staring at it. +From the knife he looked at Philip. +</P> + +<P> +"I keel ze man at God's Lake because he steal ze knife—an' call me +lie. I keel heem—lak that!"—and he snatched up a stick and broke it +into two pieces. +</P> + +<P> +His weird laugh followed the words. He went to the meat and began +carving off chunks for the pack, and for a long time after that one +would have thought that he was dumb. Philip made greater effort than +ever to rouse him into speech. He laughed, and whistled, and once tried +the experiment of singing a snatch of the Caribou Song which he knew +that Bram must have heard many times before. As he roasted his steak +over the fire he talked about the Barren, and the great herd of caribou +he had seen farther east; he asked Bram questions about the weather, +the wolves, and the country farther north and west. More than once he +was certain that Bram was listening intently, but nothing more than an +occasional grunt was his response. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour after they had finished their supper they continued to melt +snow for drinking water for themselves and the wolves. Night shut them +in, and in the glow of the fire Bram scooped a hollow in the snow for a +bed, and tilted the big sledge over it as a roof. Philip made himself +as comfortable as he could with his sleeping bag, using his tent as an +additional protection. The fire went out. Bram's heavy breathing told +Philip that the wolf-man was soon asleep. It was a long time before he +felt a drowsiness creeping over himself. +</P> + +<P> +Later he was awakened by a heavy grasp on his arm, and roused himself +to hear Bram's voice close over him. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up, m'sieu." +</P> + +<P> +It was so dark he could not see Bram when he got on his feet, but he +could hear him a moment later among the wolves, and knew that he was +making ready to travel. When his sleeping-bag and tent were on the +sledge he struck a match and looked at his watch. It was less than a +quarter of an hour after midnight. +</P> + +<P> +For two hours Bram led his pack straight into the west. The night +cleared after that, and as the stars grew brighter and more numerous in +the sky the plain was lighted up on all sides of them, as on the night +when Philip had first seen Bram. By lighting an occasional match Philip +continued to keep a record of direction and time. It was three o'clock, +and they were still traveling west, when to his surprise they struck a +small patch of timber. The clump of stunted and wind-snarled spruce +covered no more than half an acre, but it was conclusive evidence they +were again approaching a timber-line. +</P> + +<P> +From the patch of spruce Bram struck due north, and for another hour +their trail was over the white Barren. Soon after this they came to a +fringe of scattered timber which grew steadily heavier and deeper as +they entered into it. They must have penetrated eight or ten miles into +the forest before the dawn came. And in that dawn, gray and gloomy, +they came suddenly upon a cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Philip's heart gave a jump. Here, at last, would the mystery of the +golden snare be solved. This was his first thought. But as they drew +nearer, and stopped at the threshold of the door, he felt sweep over +him an utter disappointment. There was no life here. No smoke came from +the chimney and the door was almost buried in a huge drift of snow. His +thoughts were cut short by the crack of Bram's whip. The wolves swept +onward and Bram's insane laugh sent a weird and shuddering echo through +the forest. +</P> + +<P> +From the time they left behind them the lifeless and snow-smothered +cabin Philip lost account of time and direction. He believed that Bram +was nearing the end of his trail. The wolves were dead tired. The +wolf-man himself was lagging, and since midnight had ridden more +frequently on the sledge. Still he drove on, and Philip searched with +increasing eagerness the trail ahead of them. +</P> + +<P> +It was eight o'clock—two hours after they had passed the cabin—when +they came to the edge of a clearing in the center of which was a second +cabin. Here at a glance Philip saw there was life. A thin spiral of +smoke was rising from the chimney. He could see only the roof of the +log structure, for it was entirely shut in by a circular stockade of +saplings six feet high. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty paces from where Bram stopped his team was the gate of the +stockade. Bram went to it, thrust his arm through a hole even with his +shoulders, and a moment later the gate swung inward. For perhaps a +space of twenty seconds he looked steadily at Philip, and for the first +time Philip observed the remarkable change that had come into his face. +It was no longer a face of almost brutish impassiveness. There was a +strange glow in his eyes. His thick lips were parted as if on the point +of speech, and he was breathing with a quickness which did not come of +physical exertion. Philip did not move or speak. Behind him he heard +the restless whine of the wolves. He kept his eyes on Bram, and as he +saw the look of joy and anticipation deepening in the wolf-man's face +the appalling thought of what it meant sickened him. He clenched his +hands. Bram did not see the act. He was looking again toward the cabin +and at the spiral of smoke rising out of the chimney. +</P> + +<P> +Then he faced Philip, and said, +</P> + +<P> +"M'sieu, you go to ze cabin." +</P> + +<P> +He held the gate open, and Philip entered. He paused to make certain of +Bram's intention. The wolf-man swept an arm about the enclosure. +</P> + +<P> +"In ze pit I loose ze wolve, m'sieu." +</P> + +<P> +Philip understood. The stockade enclosure was Bram's wolf-pit, and Bram +meant that he should reach the cabin before he gave the pack the +freedom of the corral. He tried to conceal the excitement in his face +as he turned toward the cabin. From the gate to the door ran a path +worn by many footprints, and his heart beat faster as he noted the +smallness of the moccasin tracks. Even then his mind fought against the +possibility of the thing. Probably it was an Indian woman who lived +with Bram, or an Eskimo girl he had brought down from the north. +</P> + +<P> +He made no sound as he approached the door. He did not knock, but +opened it and entered, as Bram had invited him to do. +</P> + +<P> +From the gate Bram watched the cabin door as it closed behind him, and +then he threw back his head and such a laugh of triumph came from his +lips that even the tired beasts behind him pricked up their ears and +listened. +</P> + +<P> +And Philip, in that same moment, had solved the mystery of the golden +snare. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<P> +Philip had entered Bram Johnson's cabin from the west. Out of the east +the pale fire of the winter sun seemed to concentrate itself on the one +window of Bram's habitation, and flooded the opposite partition. In +this partition there was a doorway, and in the doorway stood a girl. +</P> + +<P> +She was standing full in the light that came through the window when +Philip saw her. His first impression was that she was clouded in the +same wonderful hair that had gone into the making of the golden snare. +It billowed over her arms and breast to her hips, aflame with the +living fires of the reflected sun. His second impression was that his +entrance had interrupted her while she was dressing and that she was +benumbed with astonishment as she stared at him. He caught the white +gleam of her bare shoulders under her hair. And then, with a shock, he +saw what was in her face. +</P> + +<P> +It turned his blood cold. It was the look of a soul that had been +tortured. Agony and doubt burned in the eyes that were looking at him. +He had never seen such eyes. They were like violet amethysts. Her face +was dead white. It was beautiful. And she was young. She was not over +twenty, it flashed upon him—but she had gone through a hell. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't let me alarm you," he said, speaking gently. "I am Philip Raine +of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police." +</P> + +<P> +It did not surprise him that she made no answer. As plainly as if she +had spoken it he had in those few swift moments read the story in her +face. His heart choked him as he waited for her lips to move. It was a +mystery to him afterward why he accepted the situation so utterly as he +stood there. He had no question to ask, and there was no doubt in his +mind. He knew that he would kill Bram Johnson when the moment arrived. +</P> + +<P> +The girl had not seemed to breathe, but now she drew in her breath in a +great gasp. He could see the sudden throb of her breast under her hair, +but the frightened light did not leave her eyes even when he repeated +the words he had spoken. Suddenly she ran to the window, and Philip saw +the grip of her hands at the sill as she looked out. Through the gate +Bram was driving his wolves. When she faced him again, her eyes had in +them the look of a creature threatened by a whip. It amazed and +startled him. As he advanced a step she cringed back from him. It +struck him then that her face was like the face of an angel—filled +with a mad horror. She reached out her bare arms to hold him back, and +a strange pleading cry came from her lips. +</P> + +<P> +The cry stopped him like a shot. He knew that she had spoken to him. +And yet he had not understood! He tore open his coat and the sunlight +fell on his bronze insignia of the Service. Its effect on her amazed +him even more than had her sudden fear of him. It occurred to him +suddenly that with a two weeks' ragged growth of beard on his face he +must look something like a beast himself. She had feared him, as she +feared Bram, until she saw the badge. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Philip Raine, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police," he repeated +again. "I have come up here especially to help you, if you need help. I +could have got Bram farther back, but there was a reason why I didn't +want him until I found his cabin. That reason was you. Why are you here +with a madman and a murderer?" +</P> + +<P> +She was watching him intently. Her eyes were on his lips, and into her +face—white a few moments before—had risen swiftly a flush of color. +He saw the dread die out of her eyes in a new and dazzling excitement. +Outside they could hear Bram. The girl turned again and looked through +the window. Then she began talking, swiftly and eagerly, in a language +that was as strange to Philip as the mystery of her presence in Bram +Johnson's cabin. She knew that he could not understand, and suddenly +she came up close to him and put a finger to his lips, and then to her +own, and shook her head. He could fairly feel the throb of her +excitement. The astounding truth held him dumb. She was trying to make +him comprehend something—in a language which he had never heard before +in all his life. He stared at her—like an idiot he told himself +afterward. +</P> + +<P> +And then the shuffle of Bram's heavy feet sounded just outside the +door. Instantly the old light leapt into the girl's eyes. Before the +door could open she had darted into the room from which she had first +appeared, her hair floating about her in a golden cloud as she ran. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened, and Bram entered. At his heels, beyond the threshold, +Philip caught a glimpse of the pack glaring hungrily into the cabin. +Bram was burdened under the load he had brought from the sledge. He +dropped it to the floor, and without looking at Philip his eyes +fastened themselves on the door to the inner room. +</P> + +<P> +They stood there for a full minute, Bram as if hypnotized by the door, +and Philip with his eyes on Bram. Neither moved, and neither made a +sound. A curtain had dropped over the entrance to the inner room, and +beyond that they could hear the girl moving about. A dozen emotions +were fighting in Philip. If he had possessed a weapon he would have +ended the matter with Bram then, for the light that was burning like a +strange flame in the wolf-man's eyes convinced him that he had guessed +the truth. Bare-handed he was no match for the giant madman. For the +first time he let his glance travel cautiously about the room. Near the +stove was a pile of firewood. A stick of this would do—when the +opportunity came. +</P> + +<P> +And then, in a way that made him almost cry out, every nerve in his +body was startled. The girl appeared in the doorway, a smile on her +lips and her eyes shining radiantly—straight at Bram! She partly held +out her arms, and began talking. She seemed utterly oblivious of +Philip's presence. Not a word that she uttered could he understand. It +was not Cree or Chippewyan or Eskimo. It was not French or German or +any tongue that he had ever heard. Her voice was pure and soft. It +trembled a little, and she was breathing quickly. But the look in her +face that had at first horrified him was no longer there. She had +braided her hair and had coiled the shining strands on the crown of her +head, and the coloring in her face was like that of a rare painting. In +these astounding moments he knew that such color and such hair did not +go with any race that had ever bred in the northland. From her face, +even as her lips spoke, he looked at Bram. The wolf-man was +transfigured. His strange eyes were shining, his heavy face was filled +with a dog-like joy, and his thick lips moved as if he was repeating to +himself what the girl was saying. +</P> + +<P> +Was it possible that he understood her? Was the strange language in +which she was speaking common between them! At first Philip thought +that it must be so—and all the horrors of the situation that he had +built up for himself fell about him in confusing disorder. The girl, as +she stood there now, seemed glad that Bram had returned; and with a +heart choking him with its suspense he waited for Bram to speak, and +act. +</P> + +<P> +When the girl ceased speaking the wolf-man's response came in a +guttural cry that was like a paean of triumph. He dropped on his knees +beside the dunnage bag and mumbling thickly as he worked he began +emptying its contents upon the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Philip looked at the girl. She was looking at him now. Her hands were +clutched at her breast, and in her face and attitude there was a +wordless entreaty for him to understand. The truth came to him like a +flash. For some reason she had forced herself to appear that way to the +wolf-man. She had forced herself to smile, forced the look of gladness +into her face, and the words from her lips. And now she was trying to +tell him what it meant, and pointing to Bram as he knelt with his huge +head and shoulders bent over the dunnage bag on the floor she exclaimed +in a low, tense voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Tossi—tossi—han er tossi!" +</P> + +<P> +It was useless. He could not understand, and it was impossible for him +to hide the bewilderment in his face. All at once an inspiration came +to him. Bram's back was toward him, and he pointed to the sticks of +firewood. His pantomime was clear. Should he knock the wolf-man's +brains out as he knelt there? +</P> + +<P> +He could see that his question sent a thrill of alarm through her. She +shook her head. Her lips formed strange words, and looking again at +Bram she repeated, "Tossi—tossi—han er tossi!" She clasped her hands +suddenly to her head then. Her slim fingers buried themselves in the +thick braids of her hair. Her eyes dilated—and suddenly understanding +flashed upon him. She was telling him what he already knew—that Bram +Johnson was mad, and he repeated after her the "Tossi-tossi," tapping +his forehead suggestively, and nodding at Bram. Yes, that was it. He +could see it in the quick intake of her breath and the sudden +expression of relief that swept over her face. She had been afraid he +would attack the wolf-man. And now she was glad that he understood he +was not to harm him. +</P> + +<P> +If the situation had seemed fairly clear to him a few minutes before it +had become more deeply mysterious than ever now. Even as the wolf-man +rose from his knees, still mumbling to himself in incoherent +exultation, the great and unanswerable question pounded in Philip's +brain: "Who was this girl, and what was she to Bram Johnson—the crazed +outlaw whom she feared and yet whom she did not wish him to harm?" +</P> + +<P> +And then he saw her staring at the things which Bram had sorted out on +the floor. In her eyes was hunger. It was a living, palpitant part of +her now as she stared at the things which Bram had taken from the +dunnage bag—as surely as Bram's madness was a part of him. As Philip +watched her he knew that slowly the curtain was rising on the tragedy +of the golden snare. In a way the look that he saw in her face shocked +him more than anything that he had seen in Bram's. It was as if, in +fact, a curtain had lifted before his eyes revealing to him an +unbelievable truth, and something of the hell through which she had +gone. She was hungry—FOR SOMETHING THAT WAS NOT FLESH! Swiftly the +thought flashed upon him why the wolf-man had traveled so far to the +south, and why he had attacked him for possession of his food supply. +It was that he might bring these things to the girl. He knew that it +was sex-pride that restrained the impulse that was pounding in every +vein of her body. She wanted to fling herself down on her knees beside +that pile of stuff—but she remembered HIM! Her eyes met his, and the +shame of her confession swept in a crimson flood into her face. The +feminine instinct told her that she had betrayed herself—like an +animal, and that he must have seen in her for a moment something that +was almost like Bram's own madness. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<P> +Until he felt the warm thrill of the girl's arm under his hand Philip +did not realize the hazard he had taken. He turned suddenly to confront +Bram. He would not have known then that the wolf-man was mad, and +impulsively he reached out a hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Bram, she's starving," he cried. "I know now why you wanted that +stuff! But why didn't you tell me! Why don't you talk, and let me know +who she is, and why she is here, and what you want me to do?" +</P> + +<P> +He waited, and Bram stared at him without a sound. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you I'm a friend," he went on. "I—" +</P> + +<P> +He got no farther than that, for suddenly the cabin was filled with the +madness of Bram's laugh. It was more terrible than out on the open +Barren, or in the forest, and he felt the shudder of the girl at his +side. Her face was close to his shoulder, and looking down he saw that +it was white as death, but that even then she was trying to smile at +Bram. And Bram continued to laugh—and as he laughed, his eyes blazing +a greenish fire, he turned to the stove and began putting fuel into the +fire. It was horrible. Bram's laugh—the girl's dead white face, AND +HER SMILE! He no longer asked himself who she was, and why she was +there. He was overwhelmed by the one appalling fact that she WAS here, +and that the stricken soul crying out to him from the depths of those +eyes that were like wonderful blue amethysts told him that Bram had +made her pay the price. His muscles hardened as he looked at the huge +form bending over the stove. It was a splendid opportunity. A single +leap and he would be at the outlaw's throat. With that advantage, in +open combat, the struggle would at least be equal. +</P> + +<P> +The girl must have guessed what was in his mind, for suddenly her +fingers were clutching at his arm and she was pulling him away from the +wolf-man, speaking to him in the language which he could not +understand. And then Bram turned from the stove, picked up a pail, and +without looking at them left the cabin. They could hear his laugh as he +joined the wolves. +</P> + +<P> +Again Philip's conclusions toppled down about him like a thing made of +blocks. During the next few moments he knew that the girl was telling +him that Bram had not harmed her. She seemed almost hysterically +anxious to make him understand this, and at last, seizing him by the +hand, she drew him into the room beyond the curtained door. Her meaning +was quite as plain as words. She was showing him what Bram had done for +her. He had made her this separate room by running a partition across +the cabin, and in addition to this he had built a small lean-to outside +the main wall entered through a narrow door made of saplings that were +still green. He noticed that the partition was also made of fresh +timber. Except for the bunk built against the wall, a crude chair, a +sapling table and half a dozen bear skins that carpeted the floor the +room was empty. A few garments hung on the wall—a hood made of fur, a +thick mackinaw coat belted at the waist with a red scarf, and something +done up in a small bundle. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess—I begin to get your meaning," he said, looking straight into +her shining blue eyes. "You want to impress on me that I'm not to wring +Bram Johnson's neck when his back is turned, or at any other time, and +you want me to believe that he hasn't done you any harm. And yet you're +afraid to the bottom of your soul. I know it. A little while ago your +face was as white as chalk, and now—now—it's the prettiest face I've +ever seen. Now, see here, little girl—" +</P> + +<P> +It gave him a pleasant thrill to see the glow in her eyes and the eager +poise of her slim, beautiful body as she listened to him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm licked," he went on, smiling frankly at her. "At least for the +present. Maybe I've gone loony, like Bram, and don't realize it yet. I +set out for a couple of Indians, and find a madman; and at the madman's +cabin I find YOU, looking at first as though you were facing straight +up against the door of-of-well, seeing that you can't understand I +might as well say it—OF HELL! Now, if you weren't afraid of Bram, and +if he hasn't hurt you, why did you look like that? I'm stumped. I +repeat it—dead stumped. I'd give a million dollars if I could make +Bram talk. I saw what was in his eyes. YOU saw it—and that pretty pink +went out of your face so quick it seemed as though your heart must have +stopped beating. And yet you're trying to tell me he hasn't harmed you. +My God—I wish I could believe it!" +</P> + +<P> +In her face he saw the reflection of the change that must have come +suddenly into his own. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a good fifteen hundred miles from any other human being with +hair and eyes and color like yours," he continued, as though in +speaking his thoughts aloud to her some ray of light might throw itself +on the situation. "If you had something black about you. But you +haven't. You're all gold—pink and white and gold. If Bram has another +fit of talking he may tell me you came from the moon—that a +chasse-galere crew brought you down out of space to keep house for him. +Great Scott, can't you give me some sort of an idea of who you are and +where you same from?" +</P> + +<P> +He paused for an answer—and she smiled at him. There was something +pathetically sweet in that smile. It brought a queer lump into his +throat, and for a space he forgot Bram. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't understand a cussed word of it, do you?" he said, taking her +hand in both his own and holding it closely for a moment. "Not a word. +But we're getting the drift of things—slowly. I know you've been here +quite a while, and that morning, noon and night since the chasse-galere +brought you down from the moon you've had nothing to put your little +teeth into but meat. Probably without salt, too. I saw how you wanted +to throw yourself down on that pile of stuff on the floor. Let's have +breakfast!" +</P> + +<P> +He led her into the outer room, and eagerly she set to work helping him +gather the things from the floor. He felt that an overwhelming load had +been lifted from his heart, and he continued to tell her about it while +he hurried the preparation of the breakfast for which he knew she was +hungering. He did not look at her too closely. All at once it had +dawned upon him that her situation must be tremendously more +embarrassing than his own. He felt, too, the tingle of a new excitement +in his veins. It was a pleasurable sensation, something which he did +not pause to analyze just at present. Only he knew that it was because +she had told him as plainly as she could that Bram had not harmed her. +</P> + +<P> +"And if he HAD I guess you'd have let me smash his brains out when he +was bending over the stove, wouldn't you?" he said, stirring the mess +of desiccated potato he was warming in one of his kit-pans. He looked +up to see her eyes shining at him, and her lips parted. She was +delightfully pretty. He knew that every nerve in her body was straining +to understand him. Her braid had slipped over her shoulder. It was as +thick as his wrist, and partly undone. He had never dreamed that a +woman's hair could hold such soft warm fires of velvety gold. Suddenly +he straightened himself and tapped his chest, an inspiring thought +leaping into his head. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Philip Raine," he said. "Philip Raine—Philip Raine—Philip +Raine—" +</P> + +<P> +He repeated the name over and over again, pointing each time to +himself. Instantly light flashed into her face. It was as if all at +once they had broken through the barrier that had separated them. She +repeated his name, slowly, clearly, smiling at him, and then with both +hands at her breast, she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Celie Armin." +</P> + +<P> +He wanted to jump over the stove and shake hands with her, but the +potatoes were sizzling. Celie Armin! He repeated the name as he stirred +the potatoes, and each time he spoke it she nodded. It was decidedly a +French name—but half a minute's experiment with a few simple sentences +of Pierre Breault's language convinced him that the girl understood no +word of it. +</P> + +<P> +Then he said again: +</P> + +<P> +"Celie!" +</P> + +<P> +Almost in the same breath she answered: +</P> + +<P> +"Philip!" +</P> + +<P> +Sounds outside the cabin announced the return of Bram. Following the +snarl and whine of the pack came heavy footsteps, and the wolf-man +entered. Philip did not turn his head toward the door. He did not look +at first to see what effect Bram's return had on Celie Armin. He went +on casually with his work. He even began to whistle; and then, after a +final stir or two at the potatoes, he pointed to the pail in which the +coffee was bubbling, and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Turn the coffee, Celie. We're ready!" +</P> + +<P> +He caught a glimpse of her face then. The excitement and color had +partly died out of it. She took the pail of coffee and went with it to +the table. +</P> + +<P> +Then Philip faced Bram. +</P> + +<P> +The wolf-man was standing with his back to the door. He had not moved +since entering, and he was staring at the scene before him in a dull, +stupid sort of way. In one hand he carried a pail filled with water; in +the other a frozen fish. +</P> + +<P> +"Too late with the fish, Bram," said Philip. "We couldn't make the +little lady wait. Besides, I think you've fed her on fish and meat +until she is just about ready to die. Come to breakfast!" +</P> + +<P> +He loaded a tin plate with hot potatoes, bannock-bread and rice that he +had cooked before setting out on the Barren, and placed it before the +girl. A second plate he prepared for Bram, and a third for himself. +Bram had not moved. He still held the pail and the fish in his hands. +Suddenly he lowered both to the floor with a growl that seemed to come +from the bottom of his great chest, and came to the table. With one +huge hand he seized Philip's arm. It was not a man's grip. There was +apparently no effort in it, and yet it was a vise-like clutch that +threatened to snap the bone. And all the time Bram's eyes were on the +girl. He drew Philip back, released the terrible grip on his arm, and +shoved the two extra plates of food to the girl. Then he faced Philip. +</P> + +<P> +"We eat ze meat, m'sieu!" +</P> + +<P> +Quietly and sanely he uttered the words. In his eyes and face there was +no trace of madness. And then, even as Philip stared, the change came. +The giant flung back his head and his wild, mad laugh rocked the cabin. +Out in the corral the snarl and cry of the wolves gave a savage +response to it. +</P> + +<P> +It took a tremendous effort for Philip to keep a grip on himself. In +that momentary flash of sanity Bram had shown a chivalry which must +have struck deep home in the heart of the girl. There was a sort of +triumph in her eyes when he looked at her. She knew now that he must +understand fully what she had been trying to tell him. Bram, in his +madness, had been good to her. Philip did not hesitate in the impulse +of the moment. He caught Bram's hand and shook it. And Bram, his laugh +dying away in a mumbling sound, seemed not to notice it. As Philip +began preparing the fish the wolf-man took up a position against the +farther wall, squatted Indian-fashion on his heels. He did not take his +eyes from the girl until she had finished, and Philip brought him a +half of the fried fish. He might as well have offered the fish to a +wooden sphinx. Bram rose to his feet, mumbling softly, and taking what +was left of one of the two caribou quarters he again left the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +His mad laugh and the snarling outcry of the wolves came to them a +moment later. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<P> +Scarcely had the door closed when Celie Armin ran to Philip and pulled +him to the table. In the tense half hour of Bram's watchfulness she had +eaten her own breakfast as if nothing unusual had happened; now she +insisted on adding potatoes and bannock to Philip's fish, and turned +him a cup of coffee. +</P> + +<P> +"Bless your heart, you don't want to see me beat out of a breakfast, do +you?" he smiled up at her, feeling all at once an immense desire to +pull her head down to him and kiss her. "But you don't understand the +situation, little girl. Now I've been eating this confounded +bannock"—he picked up a chunk of it to demonstrate his +point—"morning, noon and night until the sight of it makes me almost +cry for one of mother's green cucumber pickles. I'm tired of it. Bram's +fish is a treat. And this coffee, seeing that you have turned it in +that way—" +</P> + +<P> +She sat opposite him while he ate, and he had the chance of observing +her closely while his meal progressed. It struck him that she was +growing prettier each time that he looked at her, and he was more +positive than ever that she was a stranger in the northland. Again he +told himself that she was not more than twenty. Mentally he even went +so far as to weigh her and would have gambled that she would not have +tipped a scale five pounds one way or the other from a hundred and +twenty. Some time he might have seen the kind of violet-blue that was +in her eyes, but he could not remember it. She was lost—utterly lost +at this far-end of the earth. She was no more a part of it than a crepe +de chine ball dress or a bit of rose china. And there she was, sitting +opposite him, a bewitching mystery for him to solve. And she WANTED to +be solved! He could see it in her eyes, and in the little beating throb +at her throat. She was fighting, with him, to find a way; a way to tell +him who she was, and why she was here, and what he must do for her. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he thought of the golden snare. That, after all, he believed +to be the real key to the mystery. He rose quickly from the table and +drew the girl to the window. At the far end of the corral they could +see Bram tossing chunks of meat to the horde of beasts that surrounded +him. In a moment or two he had the satisfaction of seeing that his +companion understood that he was directing her attention to the +wolf-man and not the pack. Then he began unbraiding her hair. His +fingers thrilled at the silken touch of it. He felt his face flushing +hot under his beard, and he knew that her eyes were on him wonderingly. +A small strand he divided into three parts and began weaving into a +silken thread only a little larger than the wolf-man's snare. From, the +woven tress he pointed to Bram and in an instant her face lighted up +with understanding. +</P> + +<P> +She answered him in pantomime. Either she or Bram had cut the tress +from her head that had gone into the making of the golden snare. And +not only one tress, but several. There had been a number of golden +snares. She bowed her head and showed him where strands as large as her +little finger had been clipped in several places. +</P> + +<P> +Philip almost groaned. She was telling him nothing new, except that +there had been many snares instead of one. +</P> + +<P> +He was on the point of speech when the look in her face held him +silent. Her eyes glowed with a sudden excitement—a wild inspiration. +She held out her hands until they nearly touched his breast. +</P> + +<P> +"Philip Raine—Amerika!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +Then, pressing her hands to her own breast, she added eagerly: +</P> + +<P> +"Celie Armin—Danmark!" +</P> + +<P> +"Denmark!" exclaimed Philip. "Is that it, little girl? You're from +Denmark? Denmark!" +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Kobenhavn—Danmark!" +</P> + +<P> +"Copenhagen, Denmark," he translated for himself. "Great Scott, +Celie—we're TALKING! Celie Armin, from Copenhagen, Denmark! But how in +Heaven's name did you get HERE?" He pointed to the floor under their +feet and embraced the four walls of the cabin in a wide gesture of his +arms. "How did you get HERE?" +</P> + +<P> +Her next words thrilled him. +</P> + +<P> +"Kobenhavn—Muskvas—St. Petersburg—Rusland—Sibirien—Amerika." +</P> + +<P> +"Copenhagen—Muskvas, whatever that is—St. +Petersburg—Russia—Siberia—America," he repeated, staring at her +incredulously. "Celie, if you love me, be reasonable! Do you expect me +to believe that you came all the way from Denmark to this God-forsaken +madman's cabin in the heart of the Canada Barrens by way of Russia and +Siberia? YOU! I can't believe it. There's a mistake somewhere. Here—" +</P> + +<P> +He thought of his pocket atlas, supplied by the department as a part of +his service kit, and remembered that in the back of it was a small map +of the world. In half a minute he had secured it and was holding the +map under her eyes. Her little forefinger touched Copenhagen. Leaning +over her shoulder, he felt her hair crumpling against his breast. He +felt an insane desire to bury his face in it and hug her up close in +his arms—for a single moment the question of whether she came from +Copenhagen or the moon was irrelevant and of little consequence. He, at +least, had found her. He was digging her out of chaos, and he was +filled with the joyous exultation of a triumphant discoverer—almost +the thrill of ownership. He held his breath as he watched the little +forefinger telling him its story on the map. +</P> + +<P> +From Copenhagen it went to Moscow—which must have been Muskvas, and +from there it trailed slowly to St. Petersburg and thence straight +across Russia and Siberia to Bering Sea. +</P> + +<P> +"Skunnert," she said softly, and her finger came across to the green +patch on the map which was Alaska. +</P> + +<P> +It hesitated there. Evidently it was a question in her own mind where +she had gone after that. At least she could not tell him on the map. +And now, seeing that he was understanding her, she was becoming visibly +excited. She pulled him to the window and pointed to the wolves. +Alaska—and after that dogs and sledge. He nodded. He was jubilant. She +was Celie Armin, of Copenhagen, Denmark, and had come to Alaska by way +of Russia and Siberia—and after that had traveled by dog-train. But +WHY had she come, and what had happened to make her the companion or +prisoner of Bram Johnson? He knew she was trying to tell him. With her +back to the window she talked to him again, gesturing with her hands, +and almost sobbing under the stress of the emotion that possessed her. +His elation turned swiftly to the old dread as he watched the change in +her face. Apprehension—a grim certainty—gripped hold of him. +Something terrible had happened to her—a thing that had racked her +soul and that filled her eyes with the blaze of a strange terror as she +struggled to make him understand. And then she broke down, and with a +sobbing cry covered her face with her hands. +</P> + +<P> +Out in the corral Philip heard Bram Johnson's laugh. It was a +mockery—a challenge. In an instant every drop of blood in his body +answered it in a surge of blind rage. He sprang to the stove, snatched +up a length of firewood, and in another moment was at the door. As he +opened it and ran out he heard Celie's wild appeal for him to stop. It +was almost a scream. Before he had taken a dozen steps from the cabin +he realized what the warning meant. The pack had seen him and from the +end of the corral came rushing at him in a thick mass. +</P> + +<P> +This time Bram Johnson's voice did not stop them. He saw Philip, and +from the doorway Celie looked upon the scene while the blood froze in +her veins. She screamed—and in the same breath came the wolf-man's +laugh. Philip heard both as he swung the stick of firewood over his +head and sent it hurling toward the pack. The chance accuracy of the +throw gave him an instant's time in which to turn and make a dash for +the cabin. It was Celie who slammed the door shut as he sprang through. +Swift as a flash she shot the bolt, and there came the lunge of heavy +bodies outside. They could hear the snapping of jaws and the snarling +whine of the beasts. Philip had never seen a face whiter than the +girl's had gone. She covered it with her hands, and he could see her +trembling. A bit of a sob broke hysterically from her lips. +</P> + +<P> +He knew of what she was thinking—the horrible thing she was hiding +from her eyes. It was plain enough to him now. Twenty seconds more and +they would have had him. And then— +</P> + +<P> +He drew in a deep breath and gently uncovered her face. Her hands +shivered in his. And then a great throb of joy repaid him for his +venture into the jaws of death as he saw the way in which her beautiful +eyes were looking at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Celie—my little mystery girl—I've discovered something," he cried +huskily, holding her hands so tightly that it must have hurt her. "I'm +almost glad you can't understand me, for I wouldn't blame you for being +afraid of a man who told you he loved you an hour or two after he first +saw you. I love you. I've never wanted anything in all my life as I +want you. And I must be careful and not let you know it, mustn't I? If +I did you'd think I was some kind of an animal-brute—like Bram. +Wouldn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Bram's voice came in a sharp rattle of Eskimo outside. Philip could +hear the snarling rebellion of the wolves as they slunk away from the +cabin, and he drew Celie back from the door. Suddenly she freed her +hands, ran to the door and slipped back the wooden bolt as the +wolf-man's hand fumbled at the latch. In a moment she was back at his +side. When Bram entered every muscle in Philip's body was prepared for +action. He was amazed at the wolf-man's unconcern. He was mumbling and +chuckling to himself, as if amused at what he had seen. Celie's little +fingers dug into Philip's arm and he saw in her eyes a tense, staring +look that had not been there before. It was as if in Bram's face and +his queer mumbling she had recognized something which was not apparent +to him. Suddenly she left him and hurried into her room. During the few +moments she was gone Bram did not look once at Philip. His mumbling was +incessant. Perhaps a minute passed before the girl reappeared. +</P> + +<P> +She went straight to Bram and before the wolf-man's eyes held a long, +shining tress of hair! +</P> + +<P> +Instantly the mumbling in Bram's throat ceased and he thrust out slowly +a huge misshapen hand toward the golden strand. Philip felt his nerves +stretching to the breaking point. With Bram the girl's hair was a +fetich. A look of strange exultation crept over the giant's heavy +features as his fingers clutched the golden offering. It almost drew a +cry of warning from Philip. He saw the girl smiling in the face of a +deadly peril—a danger of which she was apparently unconscious. Her +hair still fell loose about her in a thick and shimmering glory. And +BRAM'S EYES WERE ON IT AS HE TOOK THE TRESS FROM HER FINGERS! Was it +conceivable that this mad-man did not comprehend his power! Had the +thought not yet burned its way into his thick brain that a treasure +many times greater than, that which she had doled out to him lay within +the reach of his brute hands at any time he cared to reach out for it? +And was it possible that the girl did not guess her danger as she stood +there? +</P> + +<P> +What she could see of his face must have been as pale as her own when +she looked at him. She smiled, and nodded at Bram. The giant was +turning slowly toward the window, and after a moment or two in which +they could hear him mumbling softly he sat down cross-legged against +the wall, divided the tress into three silken threads and began weaving +them into a snare. The color was returning to Celie's face when Philip +looked at her again. She told him with a gesture of her head and hands +that she was going into her room for a time. He didn't blame her. The +excitement had been rather unusual. +</P> + +<P> +After she had gone he dug his shaving outfit out of his kit-bag. It +included a mirror and the reflection he saw in this mirror fairly +shocked him. No wonder the girl had been frightened at his first +appearance. It took him half an hour to shave his face clean, and all +that time Bram paid no attention to him but went on steadily at his +task of weaving the golden snare. Celie did not reappear until the +wolf-man had finished and was leaving the cabin. The first thing she +noticed was the change in Philip's face. He saw the pleasure in her +eyes and felt himself blushing. +</P> + +<P> +From the window they watched Bram. He had called his wolves and was +going with them to the gate. He carried his snowshoes and his long +whip. He went through the gate first and one by one let his beasts out +until ten of the twenty had followed him. The gate was closed then. +</P> + +<P> +Celie turned to the table and Philip saw that she had brought from her +room a pencil and a bit of paper. In a moment she held the paper out to +him, a light of triumph in her face. At last they had found a way to +talk. On the paper was a crude sketch of a caribou head. It meant that +Bram had gone hunting. +</P> + +<P> +And in going Bram had left a half of his blood-thirsty pack in the +corral. There was no longer a doubt in Philip's mind. They were not the +chance guests of this madman. They were prisoners. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<P> +For a few minutes after the wolf-man and his hunters had gone from the +corral Philip did not move from the window. He almost forgot that the +girl was standing behind him. At no time since Pierre Breault had +revealed the golden snare had the situation been more of an enigma to +him than now. Was Bram Johnson actually mad—or was he playing a +colossal sham? The question had unleashed itself in his brain with a +suddenness that had startled him. Out of the past a voice came to him +distinctly, and it said, "A madman never forgets!" It was the voice of +a great alienist, a good friend of his, with whom he had discussed the +sanity of a man whose crime had shocked the country. He knew that the +words were true. Once possessed by an idea the madman will not forget +it. It becomes an obsession with him—a part of his existence. In his +warped brain a suspicion never dies. A fear will smolder everlastingly. +A hatred lives steadily on. +</P> + +<P> +If Bram Johnson was mad would he play the game as he was playing it +now! He had almost killed Philip for possession of the food, that the +girl might have the last crumb of it. Now, without a sign of the +madman's caution, he had left it all within his reach again. A dozen +times the flaming suspicion in his eyes had been replaced by a calm and +stupid indifference. Was the suspicion real and the stupidity a clever +dissimulation? And if dissimulation—why? +</P> + +<P> +He was positive now that Bram had not harmed the girl in the way he had +dreaded. Physical desire had played no part in the wolf-man's +possession of her. Celie had made him understand that;—and yet in +Bram's eyes he had caught a look now and then that was like the dumb +worship of a beast. Only once had that look been anything +different—and that was when Celie had given him a tress of her hair. +Even the suspicion roused in him then was gone now, for if passion and +desire were smoldering in the wolf-man's breast he would not have +brought a possible rival to the cabin, nor would he have left them +alone together. +</P> + +<P> +His mind worked swiftly as he stared unseeing out into the corral. He +would no longer play the part of a pawn. Thus far Bram had held the +whip hand. Now he would take it from him no matter what mysterious +protestation the girl might make! The wolf-man had given him a dozen +opportunities to deliver the blow that would make him a prisoner. He +would not miss the next. +</P> + +<P> +He faced Celie with the gleam of this determination in his eyes. She +had been watching him intently and he believed that she had guessed a +part of his thoughts. His first business was to take advantage of +Brain's absence to search the cabin. He tried to make Celie understand +what his intentions were as he began. +</P> + +<P> +"You may have done this yourself," he told her. "No doubt you have. +There probably isn't a corner you haven't looked into. But I have a +hunch I may find something you missed—something interesting." +</P> + +<P> +She followed him closely. He began at each wall and went over it +carefully, looking for possible hiding places. Then he examined the +floor for a loose sapling. At the end of half an hour his discoveries +amounted to nothing. He gave an exclamation of satisfaction when under +an old blanket in a dusty corner he found a Colt army revolver. But it +was empty, and he found no cartridges. At last there was nothing left +to search but the wolf-man's bunk. At the bottom of this he found what +gave him his first real thrill—three of the silken snares made from +Celie Armin's hair. +</P> + +<P> +"We won't touch them," he said after a moment, replacing the bear skin +that had covered them. "It's good etiquette up here not to disturb +another man's cache and that's Bram's. I can't imagine any one but a +madman doing that. And yet—" +</P> + +<P> +He looked suddenly at Celie. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you suppose he was afraid of YOU?" he asked her. "Is that why he +doesn't leave even the butcher-knife in this shack? Was he afraid you +might shoot him in his sleep if he left the temptation in your way?" +</P> + +<P> +A commotion among the wolves drew him to the window. Two of the beasts +were fighting. While his back was turned Celie entered her room and +returned a moment or two later with a handful of loose bits of paper. +The pack held Philip's attention. He wondered what chance he would have +in an encounter with the beasts which Bram had left behind as a guard. +Even if he killed Bram or made him a prisoner he would still have that +horde of murderous brutes to deal with. If he could in some way induce +the wolf-man to bring his rifle into the cabin the matter would be +easy. With Bram out of the way he could shoot the wolves one by one +from the window. Without a weapon their situation would be hopeless. +The pack—with the exception of one huge, gaunt beast directly under +the window—had swung around the end of the cabin out of his vision. +The remaining wolf in spite of the excitement of battle was gnawing +hungrily at a bone. Philip could hear the savage grind of its powerful +jaws, and all at once the thought of how they might work out their +salvation flashed upon him. They could starve the wolves! It would take +a week, perhaps ten days, but with Bram out of the way and the pack +helplessly imprisoned within the corral it could be done. His first +impulse now was to impress on Celie the necessity of taking physical +action against Bram. +</P> + +<P> +The sound of his own name turned him from the window with a sudden +thrill. +</P> + +<P> +If the last few minutes had inspired an eagerness for action in his own +mind he saw at a glance that something equally exciting had possessed +Celie Armin. Spread out on the table were the bits of paper she had +brought from her room, and, pointing to them, she again called him by +name. That she was laboring under a new and unusual emotion impressed +him immediately. He could see that she was fighting to restrain an +impulse to pour out in words what would have been meaningless to him, +and that she was telling him the bits of paper were to take the place +of voice. For one swift moment as he advanced to the table the papers +meant less to him than the fact that she had twice spoken his name. Her +soft lips seemed to whisper it again as she pointed, and the look in +her eyes and the poise of her body recalled to him vividly the picture +of her as he had first seen her in the cabin. He looked at the bits of +paper. There were fifteen or twenty pieces, and on each was sketched a +picture. +</P> + +<P> +He heard a low catch in Celie's breath as he bent over them, and his +own pulse quickened. A glance was sufficient to show him that with the +pictures Celie was trying to tell him what he wanted to know. They told +her own story—who she was, why she was at Bram Johnson's cabin, and +how she had come. This, at least, was the first thought that impressed +him. He observed then that the bits of paper were soiled and worn as +though they had been handled a great deal. He made no effort to +restrain the exclamation that followed this discovery. +</P> + +<P> +"You drew these pictures for Bram," he scanning them more carefully. +"That settles one thing. Bram doesn't know much more about you than, I +do. Ships, and dogs, and men—and fighting—a lot of fighting—and—" +</P> + +<P> +His eyes stopped at one of the pictures and his heart gave a sudden +excited thump. He picked up the bit of paper which had evidently been +part of a small sack. Slowly he turned to the girl and met her eyes. +She was trembling in her eagerness for him to understand. +</P> + +<P> +"That is YOU," he said, tapping the central figure in the sketch, and +nodding at her. "You—with your hair down, and fighting a bunch of men +who look as though they were about to beat your brains out with clubs! +Now—what in God's name does it mean? And here's a ship up in the +corner. That evidently came first. You landed from that ship, didn't +you? From the ship—the ship—the ship—" +</P> + +<P> +"Skunnert!" she cried softly, touching the ship with her finger. +"Skunnert—Sibirien!" +</P> + +<P> +"Schooner-Siberia," translated Philip. "It sounds mightily like that, +Celie. Look here—" He opened his pocket atlas again at the map of the +world. "Where did you start from, and where did you come ashore? If we +can get at the beginning of the thing—" +</P> + +<P> +She had bent her head over the crook of his arm, so that in her eager +scrutiny of the map his lips for a moment or two touched the velvety +softness of her hair. Again he felt the exquisite thrill of her touch, +the throb of her body against him, the desire to take her in his arms +and hold her there. And then she drew back a little, and her finger was +once more tracing out its story on the map. The ship had started from +the mouth of the Lena River, in Siberia, and had followed the coast to +the blue space that marked the ocean above Alaska. And there the little +finger paused, and with a hopeless gesture Celie intimated that was all +she knew. From somewhere out of that blue patch the ship had touched +the American shore. One after another she took up from the table the +pieces of paper that carried on the picture-story from that point. It +was, of course, a broken and disjointed story. But as it progressed +every drop of blood in Philip's body was stirred by the thrill and +mystery of it. Celie Armin had traveled from Denmark through Russia to +the Lena River in Siberia, and from there a ship had brought her to the +coast of North America. There had been a lot of fighting, the +significance of which he could only guess at; and now, at the end, the +girl drew for Philip another sketch in which a giant and a horde of +beasts appeared. It was a picture of Bram and his wolves, and at last +Philip understood why she did not want him to harm the wolf-man. Bram +had saved her from the fate which the pictures only partly portrayed +for him. He had brought her far south to his hidden stronghold, and for +some reason which the pictures failed to disclose was keeping her a +prisoner there. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond these things Celie Armin was still a mystery. +</P> + +<P> +Why had she gone to Siberia? What had brought her to the barren Arctic +coast of America? Who were the mysterious enemies from whom Bram the +madman had saved her? And who—who— +</P> + +<P> +He looked again at one of the pictures which he had partly crumpled in +his hand. On it were sketched two people. One was a figure with her +hair streaming down—Celie herself. The other was a man. The girl had +pictured herself close in the embrace of this man's arms. Her own arms +encircled the man's neck. From the picture Philip had looked at Celie, +and the look he had seen in her eyes and face filled his heart with a +leaden chill. It was more than hope that had flared up in his breast +since he had entered Bram Johnson's cabin. And now that hope went +suddenly out, and with its extinguishment he was oppressed by a deep +and gloomy foreboding. +</P> + +<P> +He went slowly to the window and looked out. +</P> + +<P> +The next moment Celie was startled by the sudden sharp cry that burst +from his lips. Swiftly she ran to his side. He had dropped the paper. +His hands were gripping the edge of the sill, and he was staring like +one who could not believe his own eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Good God—look! Look at that!" +</P> + +<P> +They had heard no sound outside the cabin during the last few minutes. +Yet under their eyes, stretched out in the soiled and trampled snow, +lay the wolf that a short time before had been gnawing a bone. The +animal was stark dead. Not a muscle of its body moved. Its lips were +drawn back, its jaws agape, and under the head was a growing smear of +blood. It was not these things—not the fact but the INSTRUMENT of +death that held Philip's eyes. The huge wolf had been completely +transfixed by a spear. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly Philip recognized it—the long, slender, javelin-like narwhal +harpoon used by only one people in the world, the murderous little +black-visaged Kogmollocks of Coronation Gulf and Wollaston Land. +</P> + +<P> +He sprang suddenly back from the window, dragging Celie with him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<P> +"Kogmollocks—the blackest-hearted little devils alive when it comes to +trading wives and fighting," said Philip, a little ashamed of the +suddenness with which he had jumped back from the window. "Excuse my +abruptness, dear. But I'd recognize that death-thing on the other side +of the earth. I've seen them throw it like an arrow for a hundred +yards—and I have a notion they're watching that window!" +</P> + +<P> +At sight of the dead wolf and the protruding javelin Celie's face had +gone as white as ash. Snatching up one of the pictures from the table, +she thrust it into Philip's hand. It was one of the fighting pictures. +</P> + +<P> +"So it's YOU?" he said, smiling at her and trying to keep the tremble +of excitement out of his voice. "It's you they want, eh? And they must +want you bad. I've never heard of those little devils coming within a +hundred miles of this far south. They MUST want you bad. Now—I wonder +WHY?" His voice was calm again. It thrilled him to see how utterly she +was judging the situation by the movement of his lips and the sound of +his voice. With him unafraid she would be unafraid. He judged that +quickly. Her eyes bared her faith in him, and suddenly he reached out +and took her face between his two hands, and laughed softly, while each +instant he feared the smash of a javelin through the window. "I like to +see that look in your eyes," he went on. "And I'm almost glad you can't +understand me, for I couldn't lie to you worth a cent. I understand +those pictures now—and I think we're in a hell of a fix. The Eskimos +have followed you and Bram down from the north, and I'm laying a wager +with myself that Bram won't return from the caribou hunt. If they were +Nunatalmutes or any other tribe I wouldn't be so sure. But they're +Kogmollocks. They're worse than the little brown head-hunters of the +Philippines when it comes to ambush, and if Bram hasn't got a spear +through him this minute I'll never guess again!" He withdrew his hands +from her face, still smiling at her as he talked. The color was +returning into her face. Suddenly she made a movement as if to approach +the window. He detained her, and in the same moment there came a fierce +and snarling outcry from the wolves in the corral. Making Celie +understand that she was to remain where he almost forcibly placed her +near the table, Philip went again to the window. The pack had gathered +close to the gate and two or three of the wolves were leaping excitedly +against the sapling bars of their prison. Between the cabin and the +gate a second body lay in the snow. Philip's mind leapt to a swift +conclusion. The Eskimos had ambushed Bram, and they believed that only +the girl was in the cabin. Intuitively he guessed how the superstitious +little brown men of the north feared the madman's wolves. One by one +they were picking them off with their javelins from outside the corral. +</P> + +<P> +As he looked a head and pair of shoulders rose suddenly above the top +of the sapling barrier, an arm shot out and he caught the swift gleam +of a javelin as it buried itself in the thick of the pack. In a flash +the head and shoulders of the javelin-thrower had disappeared, and in +that same moment Philip heard a low cry behind him. Celie had returned +to the window. She had seen what he had seen, and her breath came +suddenly in a swift and sobbing excitement. In amazement he saw that +she was no longer pale. A vivid flush had gathered in each of her +cheeks and her eyes blazed with a dark fire. One of her hands caught +his arm and her fingers pinched his flesh. He stared dumbly for a +moment at the strange transformation in her. He almost believed that +she wanted to fight—that she was ready to rush out shoulder to +shoulder with him against their enemies. Scarcely had the cry fallen +from her lips when she turned and ran swiftly into her room. It seemed +to Philip that she was not gone ten seconds. When she returned she +thrust into his hand a revolver. +</P> + +<P> +It was a toy affair. The weight and size of the weapon told him that +before he broke it and looked at the caliber. It was a "stocking" gun +as they called those things in the service, fully loaded with .22 +caliber shots and good for a possible partridge at fifteen or twenty +paces. Under other conditions it would have furnished him with +considerable amusement. But the present was not yesterday or the day +before. It was a moment of grim necessity—and the tiny weapon gave him +the satisfaction of knowing that he was not entirely helpless against +the javelins. It would shoot as far as the stockade, and it might +topple a man over if he hit him just right. Anyway, it would make a +noise. +</P> + +<P> +A noise! The grin that had come into his face died out suddenly as he +looked at Celie. He wondered if to her had come the thought that now +flashed upon him—if it was that thought that had made her place the +revolver in his hand. The blaze of excitement in her wonderful eyes +almost told him that it was. With Bram gone, the Eskimos believed she +was alone and at their mercy as soon as the wolves were out of the way. +Two or three shots from the revolver—and Philip's appearance in the +corral—would shake their confidence. It would at least warn them that +Celie was not alone, and that her protector was armed. For that reason +Philip thanked the Lord that a "stocking" gun had a bark like the +explosion of a toy cannon even if its bite was like that of an insect. +</P> + +<P> +Cautiously he took another look at Bram's wolves. The last javelin had +transfixed another of their number and the animal was dragging itself +toward the center of the corral. The remaining seven were a dozen yards +on the other side of the gate now, leaping and snarling at the +stockade, and he knew that the next attack would come from there. He +sprang to the door. Celie was only a step behind him as he ran out, and +was close at his side when he peered around the end of the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"They must not see you," he made her understand. "It won't do any good +and when they see another man they may possibly get the idea in their +heads that you're not here. There can't be many of them or they'd make +quicker work of the wolves. I should say not more than—" +</P> + +<P> +"Se! Se!" +</P> + +<P> +The warning came in a low cry from Celie's lips. A dark head was +appearing slowly above the top of the stockade, and Philip darted +suddenly out into the open. The Eskimo did not see him, and Philip +waited until he was on the point of hurling his javelin before he made +a sound. Then he gave a roar that almost split his throat. In the same +instant he began firing. The crack of his pistol and the ferocious +outcry he made sent the Eskimo off the stockade like a ball hit by a +club. The pack, maddened by their inability to reach their enemies, +turned like a flash. Warned by one experience, Philip hustled Celie +into the cabin. They were scarcely over the threshold when the wolves +were at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"We're sure up against a nice bunch," he laughed, standing for a moment +with his arm still about Celie's waist. "A regular hell of a bunch, +little girl! Now if those wolves only had sense enough to know that +we're a little brother and sister to Bram, we'd be able to put up a +fight that would be some circus. Did you see that fellow topple off the +fence? Don't believe I hit him. At least I hope I didn't. If they ever +find out the size of this pea-shooter's sting they'll sit up there like +a row of crows and laugh at us. But—what a bully NOISE it made!" +</P> + +<P> +He was blissfully unmindful of danger as he held her in the crook of +his arm, looking straight into her lovely face as he talked. It was a +moment of splendid hypocrisy. He knew that in her excitement and the +tremendous effort she was making to understand something of what he was +saying that she was unconscious of his embrace. That, and the joyous +thrill of the situation, sent the hot blood into his face. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm dangerously near to going the limit," he told her, speaking with a +seriousness that would impress her. "I'd fight twenty of those little +devils single-handed to know just how you'd take it, and I'd fight +another dozen to know who that fellow is in the picture. I'm tempted +right now to hug you up close, and kiss you, and let you know how I +feel. I'd like to do that—before—anything happens. But would you +understand? That's it—would you understand that I love every inch of +you from the ground up or would you think I was just beast? That's what +I'm afraid of. But I'd like to let you know before I have to put up the +big fight for you. And it's coming—if they've got Bram. They'll break +down the gate to-night, or burn it, and with the wolves out of the way +they'll rush the cabin. And then—" +</P> + +<P> +Slowly he drew his arm from her, and something of the reaction of his +thoughts must have betrayed itself in the look that came into his face. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I've already pulled off a rotten deal on the other fellow," he +said, turning to the window. "That is, if you belong to him. And if you +didn't why would you stand there with your arms about his neck and he +hugging you up like that!" +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes before he had crumpled the picture in his hand and +dropped it on the floor. He picked it up now and mechanically smoothed +it out as he made his observation, through the window. The pack had +returned to the stockade. By the aimless manner in which they had +scattered he concluded that for the time at least their mysterious +enemies had drawn away from the corral. +</P> + +<P> +Celie had not moved. She was watching him earnestly. It seemed to him, +as he went to her with the picture, that a new and anxious questioning +had come into her eyes. It was as if she had discovered something in +him which she had not observed before, something which she was trying +to analyze even as he approached her. He felt for the first time a +sense of embarrassment. Was it possible that she had comprehended some +word or thought of what he had expressed to her? He could not believe +it And yet, a woman's intuition— +</P> + +<P> +He held out the picture. Celie took it and for a space looked at it +steadily without raising her eyes to meet his. When she did look at him +the blue in her eyes was so wonderful and deep and the soul that looked +out of them was so clear to his own vision that the shame of that +moment's hypocrisy when he had stood with his arm about her submerged +him completely. If she had not understood him she at least HAD GUESSED. +</P> + +<P> +"Min fader," she said quietly, with the tip of her little forefinger on +the man in the picture. "Min fader." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment he thought she had spoken in English. +</P> + +<P> +"Your—your father?" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Oo-ee-min fader!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank the Lord," gasped Philip. And then he suddenly added, "Celie, +have you any more cartridges for this pop-gun? I feel like licking the +world!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<P> +He tried to hide his jubilation as he talked of more cartridges. He +forgot Bram, and the Eskimos waiting outside the corral, and the +apparent hopelessness of their situation. HER FATHER! He wanted to +shout, or dance around the cabin with Celie in his arms. But the change +that he had seen come over her made him understand that he must keep +hold of himself. He dreaded to see another light come into those +glorious blue eyes that had looked at him with such a strange and +questioning earnestness a few moments before—the fire of suspicion, +perhaps even of fear if he went too far. He realized that he had +betrayed his joy when she had said that the man in the picture was her +father. She could not have missed that. And he was not sorry. For him. +there was an unspeakable thrill in the thought that to a woman, no +matter under what sun she is born, there is at least one emotion whose +understanding needs no words of speech. And as he had talked to her, +sublimely confident that she could not understand him, she had read the +betrayal in his face. He was sure of it. And so he talked about +cartridges. He talked, he told himself afterwards, like an excited +imbecile. +</P> + +<P> +There were no more cartridges. Celie made him understand that. All they +possessed were the four that remained in the revolver. As a matter of +fact this discovery did not disturb him greatly. At close quarters he +would prefer a good club to the pop-gun. Such a club, in the event of a +rush attack by the Eskimos, was an important necessity, and he began +looking about the cabin to see what he could lay his hands on. He +thought of the sapling cross-pieces in Bram's bunk against the wall and +tore one out. It was four feet in length and as big around as his fist +at one end while at the other it tapered down so that he could grip it +easily with his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Now we're ready for them," he said, testing the poise and swing of the +club as he stood in the center of the room. "Unless they burn us out +they'll never get through that door. I'm promising you that—s'elp me +God I am, Celie!" +</P> + +<P> +As she looked at him a flush burned in her cheeks. He was eager to +fight—it seemed to her that he was almost hoping for the attack at the +door. It made her splendidly unafraid, and suddenly she laughed +softly—a nervous, unexpected little laugh which she could not hold +back, and he turned quickly to catch the warm glow in her eyes. +Something went up into his throat as she stood there looking at him +like that. He had never seen any one quite so beautiful. He dropped his +club, and held out his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's shake, Celie," he said. "I'm mighty glad you understand—we're +pals." +</P> + +<P> +Unhesitatingly she gave him her hand, and in spite of the fact that +death lurked outside they smiled into each other's eyes. After that she +went into her room. For half an hour Philip did not see her again. +</P> + +<P> +During that half hour he measured up the situation more calmly. He +realized that the exigency was tremendously serious, and that until now +he had not viewed it with the dispassionate coolness that characterized +the service of the uniform he wore. Celie was accountable for that. He +confessed the fact to himself, not without a certain pleasurable +satisfaction. He had allowed her presence, and his thoughts of her, to +fill the adventure completely for him, and as a result they were now +facing an appalling danger. If he had followed his own judgment, and +had made Bram Johnson a prisoner, as he should have done in his line of +duty, matters would have stood differently. +</P> + +<P> +For several minutes after Celie had disappeared into her room he +studied the actions of the wolves in the corral. A short time before he +had considered a method of ridding himself of Bram's watchful beasts. +Now he regarded them as the one greatest protection they possessed. +There were seven left. He was confident they would give warning the +moment the Eskimos approached the stockade again. But would their +enemies return? The fact that only one man had attacked the wolves at a +time was almost convincing evidence that they were very few in +number—perhaps only a scouting party of three or four. Otherwise, if +they had come in force, they would have made short work of the pack. +The thought became a positive conviction as he looked through the +window. Bram had fallen a victim to a single javelin, and the scouting +party of Kogmollocks had attempted to complete their triumph by +carrying Celie back with them to the main body. Foiled in this attempt, +and with the knowledge that a new and armed enemy opposed them, they +were possibly already on their way for re-enforcements. +</P> + +<P> +If this were so there could be but one hope—and that was an immediate +escape from the cabin. And between the cabin door and the freedom of +the forest were Bram's seven wolves! +</P> + +<P> +A feeling of disgust, almost of anger, swept over him as he drew +Celie's little revolver from his pocket and held it in the palm of his +hand. There were four cartridges left. But what would they avail +against that horde of beasts! They would stop them no more than so many +pin-pricks. And what even would the club avail? Against two or three he +might put up a fight. But against seven— +</P> + +<P> +He cursed Bram under his breath. It was curious that in that same +instant the thought flashed upon him that the wolf-man might not have +fallen a victim to the Eskimos. Was it not possible that the spying +Kogmollocks had seen him go away on the hunt, and had taken advantage +of the opportunity to attack the cabin? They had evidently thought +their task would be an easy one. What Philip saw through the window set +his pulse beating quickly with the belief that this last conjecture was +the true one. The world outside was turning dark. The sky was growing +thick and low. In half an hour a storm would break. The Eskimos had +foreseen that storm. They knew that the trail taken in their flight, +after they had possessed themselves of the girl, would very soon be +hidden from the eyes of Bram and the keen scent of his wolves. So they +had taken the chance—the chance to make Celie their prisoner before +Bram returned. +</P> + +<P> +And why, Philip asked himself, did these savage little barbarians of +the north want HER? The fighting she had pictured for him had not +startled him. For a long time the Kogmollocks had been making trouble. +In the last year they had killed a dozen white men along the upper +coast, including two American explorers and a missionary. Three patrols +had been sent to Coronation Gulf and Bathurst Inlet since August. With +the first of those patrols, headed by Olaf Anderson, the Swede, he had +come within an ace of going himself. A rumor had come down to Churchill +just before he left for the Barrens that Olaf's party of five men had +been wiped out. It was not difficult to understand why the Eskimos had +attacked Celie Armin's father and those who had come ashore with him +from the ship. It was merely a question of lust for white men's blood +and white men's plunder, and strangers in their country would naturally +be regarded as easy victims. The mysterious and inexplicable part of +the affair was their pursuit of the girl. In this pursuit the +Kogmollocks had come far beyond the southernmost boundary of their +hunting grounds. Philip was sufficiently acquainted with the Eskimos to +know that in their veins ran very little of the red-blooded passion of +the white man. Matehood was more of a necessity imposed by nature than +a joy in their existence, and it was impossible for him to believe that +even Celie Armin's beauty had roused the desire for possession among +them. +</P> + +<P> +His attention turned to the gathering of the storm. The amazing +swiftness with which the gray day was turning into the dark gloom of +night fascinated him and he almost called to Celie that she might look +upon the phenomenon with him. It was piling in from the vast Barrens to +the north and east and for a time it was accompanied by a stillness +that was oppressive. He could no longer distinguish a movement in the +tops of the cedars and banskian pine beyond the corral. In the corral +itself he caught now and then the shadowy, flitting movement of the +wolves. He did not hear Celie when she came out of her room. So +intently was he straining his eyes to penetrate the thickening pall of +gloom that he was unconscious of her presence until she stood close at +his side. There was something in the awesome darkening of the world +that brought them closer in that moment, and without speaking Philip +found her hand and held it in his own. They heard then a low whispering +sound—a sound that came creeping up out of the end of the world like a +living thing; a whisper so vast that, after a little, it seemed to fill +the universe, growing louder and louder until it was no longer a +whisper but a moaning, shrieking wail. It was appalling as the first +blast of it swept over the cabin. No other place in the world is there +storm like the storm that sweeps over the Great Barren; no other place +in the world where storm is filled with such a moaning, shrieking +tumult of VOICE. It was not new to Philip. He had heard it when it +seemed to him that ten thousand little children were crying under the +rolling and twisting onrush of the clouds; he had heard it when it +seemed to him the darkness was filled with an army of laughing, +shrieking madmen—storm out of which rose piercing human shrieks and +the sobbing grief of women's voices. It had driven people mad. Through +the long dark night of winter, when for five months they caught no +glimpse of the sun, even the little brown Eskimos went keskwao and +destroyed themselves because of the madness that was in that storm. +</P> + +<P> +And now it swept over the cabin, and in Celie's throat there rose a +little sob. So swiftly had darkness gathered that Philip could no +longer see her, except where her face made a pale shadow in the gloom, +but he could feel the tremble of her body against him. Was it only this +morning that he had first seen her, he asked himself? Was it not a +long, long time ago, and had she not in that time become, flesh and +soul, a part of him? He put out his arms. Warm and trembling and +unresisting in that thick gloom she lay within them. His soul rose in a +wild ecstasy and rode on the wings of the storm. Closer he held her +against his breast, and he said: +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing can hurt you, dear. Nothing—nothing—" +</P> + +<P> +It was a simple and meaningless thing to say—that, and only that. And +yet he repeated it over and over again, holding her closer and closer +until her heart was throbbing against his own. "Nothing can hurt you. +Nothing—nothing—" +</P> + +<P> +He bent his head. Her face was turned up to him, and suddenly he was +thrilled by the warm sweet touch of her lips. He kissed her. She did +not strain away from him. He felt—in that darkness—the wild fire in +her face. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing can hurt you, nothing—nothing—" he cried almost sobbingly in +his happiness. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there came a blast of the storm that rocked the cabin like the +butt of a battering-ram, and in that same moment there came from just +outside the window a shrieking cry such as Philip had never heard in +all his life before. And following the cry there rose above the tumult +of the storm the howling of Bram Johnson's wolves. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<P> +For a space Philip thought that the cry must have come from Bram +Johnson himself—that the wolf-man had returned in the pit of the +storm. Against his breast Celie had apparently ceased to breathe. Both +listened for a repetition of the sound, or for a signal at the barred +door. It was strange that in that moment the wind should die down until +they could hear the throbbing of their own hearts. Celie's was pounding +like a little hammer, and all at once he pressed his face down against +hers and laughed with sudden and joyous understanding. +</P> + +<P> +"It was only the wind, dear," he said. "I never heard anything like it +before—never! It even fooled the wolves. Bless your dear little heart +how it frightened you! And it was enough, too. Shall we light some of +Bram's candles?" +</P> + +<P> +He held her hand as he groped his way to where he had seen Bram's +supply of bear-dips. She held two of the candles while he lighted them +and their yellow flare illumined her face while his own was still in +shadow. What he saw in its soft glow and the shine of her eyes made him +almost take her in his arms again, candles and all. And then she turned +with them and went to the table. He continued to light candles until +the sputtering glow of half a dozen of them filled the room. It was a +wretched wastefulness, but it was also a moment in which he felt +himself fighting to get hold of himself properly. And he felt also the +desire to be prodigal about something. When he had lighted his sixth +candle, and then faced Celie, she was standing near the table looking +at him so quietly and so calmly and with such a wonderful faith in her +eyes that he thanked God devoutly he had kissed her only once—just +that once! It was a thrilling thought to know that SHE knew he loved +her. There was no doubt of it now. And the thought of what he might +have done in that darkness and in the moment of her helplessness +sickened him. He could look her straight in the eyes now—unashamed and +glad. And she was unashamed, even if a little flushed at what had +happened. The same thought was in their minds—and he knew that she was +not sorry. Her eyes and the quivering tremble of a smile on her lips +told him that. She had braided her hair in that interval when she had +gone to her room, and the braid had fallen over her breast and lay +there shimmering softly in the candle-glow. He wanted to take her in +his arms again. He wanted to kiss her on the mouth and eyes. But +instead of that he took the silken braid gently in his two hands and +crushed it against his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"I love you," he cried softly. "I love you." +</P> + +<P> +He stood for a moment or two with his head bowed, the thrill of her +hair against his face. It was as if he was receiving some kind of a +wonderful benediction. And then in a voice that trembled a little she +spoke to him. Before he could see fully what was in her eyes she turned +suddenly to the wall, took down his coat, and hung it over the window. +When he saw her face again it was gloriously flushed. She pointed to +the candles. +</P> + +<P> +"No danger of that," he said, comprehending her. "They won't throw any +javelins in this storm. Listen!" +</P> + +<P> +It was the wolves again. In a moment their cry was drowned in a crash +of the storm that smote the cabin like a huge hand. Again it was +wailing over them in a wild orgy of almost human tumult. He could see +its swift effect on Celie in spite of her splendid courage. It was not +like the surge of mere wind or the roll of thunder. Again he was +inspired by thought of his pocket atlas, and opened it at the large +insert map of Canada. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll show you why the wind does that," he explained to her, drawing +her to the table and spreading out the map. "See, here is the cabin." +He made a little black dot with her pencil, and turning to the four +walls of Bram's stronghold made her understand what it meant. "And +there's the big Barren," he went on, tracing it out with the +pencil-point. "Up here, you see, is the Arctic Ocean, and away over +there the Roes Welcome and Hudson's Bay. That's where the storm starts, +and when it gets out on the Barren, without a tree or a rock to break +its way for five hundred miles—" +</P> + +<P> +He told of the twisting air-currents there and how the storm-clouds +sometimes swept so low that they almost smothered one. For a few +moments he did not look at Celie or he would have seen something in her +face which could not have been because of what he was telling her, and +which she could at best only partly understand. She had fixed her eyes +on the little black dot. THAT was the cabin. For the first time the map +told her where she was, and possibly how she had arrived there. +Straight down to that dot from the blue space of the ocean far to the +north the map-makers had trailed the course of the Coppermine River. +Celie gave an excited little cry and caught Philip's arm, stopping him +short in his explanation of the human wailings in the storm. Then she +placed a forefinger on the river. +</P> + +<P> +"There—there it is!" she told him, as plainly as though her voice was +speaking to him in his own language. "We came down that river. The +Skunnert landed us THERE," and she pointed to the mouth of the +Coppermine where it emptied into Coronation Gulf. "And then we came +down, down, down—" +</P> + +<P> +He repeated the name of the river. +</P> + +<P> +"THE COPPERMINE." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded, her breath breaking a little in an increasing excitement. +She seized the pencil and two-thirds of the distance down the +Coppermine made a cross. It was wonderful, he thought, how easily she +made him understand. In a low, eager voice she was telling him that +where she had put the cross the treacherous Kogmollocks had first +attacked them. She described with the pencil their flight away from the +river, and after that their return—and a second fight. It was then +Bram Johnson had come into the scene. And back there, at the point from +which the wolf-man had fled with her, was her FATHER. That was the +chief thing she was striving to drive home in his comprehension of the +situation. Her FATHER! And she believed he was alive, for it was an +excitement instead of hopelessness or grief that possessed her as she +talked to him. It gave him a sort of shock. He wanted to tell her, with +his arms about her, that it was impossible, and that it was his duty to +make her realize the truth. Her father was dead now, even if she had +last seen him alive. The little brown men had got him, and had +undoubtedly hacked him into small pieces, as was their custom when +inspired by war-madness. It was inconceivable to think of him as still +being alive even if there had been armed friends with him. There was +Olaf Anderson and his five men, for instance. Fighters every one of +them. And now they were dead. What chance could this other man have? +</P> + +<P> +Her joy when she saw that he understood her added to the uncertainty +which was beginning to grip him in spite of all that the day had meant +for him. Her faith in him, since that thrilling moment in the darkness, +was more than ever like that of a child. She was unafraid of Bram now. +She was unafraid of the wolves and the storm and the mysterious +pursuers from out of the north. Into his keeping she had placed herself +utterly, and while this knowledge filled him with a great happiness he +was now disturbed by the fact that, if they escaped from the cabin and +the Eskimos, she believed he would return with her down the Coppermine +in an effort to find her father. He had already made the plans for +their escape and they were sufficiently hazardous. Their one chance was +to strike south across the thin arm of the Barren for Pierre Breault's +cabin. To go in the opposite direction—farther north without dogs or +sledge—would be deliberate suicide. +</P> + +<P> +Several times during the afternoon he tried to bring himself to the +point of urging on her the naked truth—that her father was dead. There +was no doubt of that—not the slightest. But each time he fell a little +short. Her confidence in the belief that her father was alive, and that +he was where she had marked the cross on the map, puzzled him. Was it +conceivable, he asked himself, that the Eskimos had some reason for NOT +killing Paul Armin, and that Celie was aware of the fact? If so he +failed to discover it. Again and again he made Celie understand that he +wanted to know why the Eskimos wanted HER, and each time she answered +him with a hopeless little gesture, signifying that she did not know. +He did learn that there were two other white men with Paul Armin. +</P> + +<P> +Only by looking at his watch did he know when the night closed in. It +was seven o'clock when he led Celie to her room and urged her to go to +bed. An hour later, listening at her door, he believed that she was +asleep. He had waited for that, and quietly he prepared for the +hazardous undertaking he had set for himself. He put on his cap and +coat and seized the club he had taken from Bram's bed. Then very +cautiously he opened the outer door. A moment later he stood outside, +the door closed behind him, with the storm pounding in his face. +</P> + +<P> +Fifty yards away he could not have heard the shout of a man. And yet he +listened, gripping his club hard, every nerve in his body strained to a +snapping tension. Somewhere within that small circle of the corral were +Bram Johnson's wolves, and as he hesitated with his back to the door he +prayed that there would come no lull in the storm during the next few +minutes. It was possible that he might evade them with the crash and +thunder of the gale about him. They could not see him, or hear him, or +even smell him in that tumult of wind unless on his way to the gate he +ran into them. In that moment he would have given a year of life to +have known where they were. Still listening, still fighting to hear +some sound of them in the shriek of the storm, he took his first step +out into the pit of darkness. He did not run, but went as cautiously as +though the night was a dead calm, the club half poised in his hands. He +had measured the distance and the direction of the gate and when at +last he touched the saplings of the stockade he knew that he could not +be far off in his reckoning. Ten paces to the right he found the gate +and his heart gave a sudden jump of relief. Half a minute more and it +was open. He propped it securely against the beat of the storm with the +club he had taken from Bram Johnson's bed. +</P> + +<P> +Then he turned back to the cabin, with the little revolver clutched in +his hand, and his face was strained and haggard when he found the door +and returned again into the glow of the candle-light. In the center of +the room, her face as white as his own, stood Celie. A great fear must +have gripped her, for she stood there in her sleeping gown with her +hands clutched at her breast, her eyes staring at him in speechless +questioning. He explained by opening the door a bit and pantomiming to +the gate outside the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"The wolves will be gone in the morning," he said, a ring of triumph in +his voice. "I have opened the gate. There is nothing in our way now." +</P> + +<P> +She understood. Her eyes were a glory to look into then. Her fingers +unclenched at her breast, she gave a short, quick breath and a little +cry—and her arms almost reached out to him. He was afraid of himself +as he went to her and led her again to the door of her room. And there +for a moment they paused, and she looked up into his face. Her hand +crept from his and went softly to his shoulder. She said something to +him, almost in a whisper, and he could no longer fight against the +pride and the joy and the faith he saw in her eyes. He bent down, +slowly so that she might draw away from him if she desired, and kissed +her upturned lips. And then, with a strange little cry that was like +the soft note of a bird, she turned from him and disappeared into the +darkness of her room. +</P> + +<P> +A great deal of that night's storm passed over his head unheard after +that. It was late when he went to bed. He crowded Bram's long box-stove +with wood before he extinguished the last candle. +</P> + +<P> +And for an hour after that he lay awake, thinking of Celie and of the +great happiness that had come into his life all in one day. During that +hour he made the plans of a lifetime. Then he, too, fell into sleep—a +restless, uneasy slumber filled with many visions. For a time there had +come a lull in the gale, but now it broke over the cabin in increased +fury. A hand seemed slapping at the window, threatening to break it, +and a volley of wind and snow shot suddenly down the chimney, forcing +open the stove door, so that a shaft of ruddy light cut like a red +knife through the dense gloom of the cabin. In varying ways the sounds +played a part in Philip's dreams. In all those dreams, and segments of +dreams, the girl was present. It was strange that in all of them she +should be his wife. And it was strange that the big woods and the deep +snows played no part in them. He was back home. And Celie was with him. +Once they went for wildflowers and were caught in a thunderstorm, and +ran to an old and disused barn in the center of a field for shelter. He +could feel Celie trembling against him, and he was stroking her hair as +the thunder crashed over them and the lightning filled her eyes with +fear. After that there came to him a vision of early autumn nights when +they went corn-roasting, with other young people. He had always been +afflicted with a slight nasal trouble, and smoke irritated him. It set +him sneezing, and kept him dodging about the fire, and Celie was +laughing as the smoke persisted in following him about, like a young +scamp of a boy bent on tormenting him. The smoke was unusually +persistent on this particular night, until at last the laughter went +out of the girl's face, and she ran into his arms and covered his eyes +with her soft hands. Restlessly he tossed in his bunk, and buried his +face in the blanket that answered for a pillow. The smoke reached him; +even there, and he sneezed chokingly. In that instant Celie's face +disappeared. He sneezed again—and awoke. +</P> + +<P> +In that moment his dazed senses adjusted themselves. The cabin was full +of smoke. It partly blinded him, but through it he could see tongues of +fire shooting toward the ceiling. He heard then the crackling of +burning pitch—a dull and consuming roar, and with a stifled cry he +leaped from his bunk and stood on his feet. Dazed by the smoke and +flame, he saw that there was not the hundredth part of a second to +lose. Shouting Celie's name he ran to her door, where the fire was +already beginning to shut him out. His first cry had awakened her and +she was facing the lurid glow of the flame as he rushed in. Almost +before she could comprehend what was happening he had wrapped one of +the heavy bear skins about her and had swept her into his arms. With +her face crushed against his breast he lowered his head and dashed back +into the fiery holocaust of the outer room. The cabin, with its +pitch-filled logs, was like a box made of tinder, and a score of men +could not have beat out the fire that was raging now. The wind beating +from the west had kept it from reaching the door opening into the +corral, but the pitch was hissing and smoking at the threshold as +Philip plunged through the blinding pall and fumbled for the latch. +</P> + +<P> +Not ten seconds too soon did he stagger with his burden out into the +night. As the wind drove in through the open door the flames seemed to +burst in a sudden explosion and the cabin was a seething snarl of +flame. It burst through the window and out of the chimney and Philip's +path to the open gate was illumined by a fiery glow. Not until he had +passed beyond the stockade to the edge of the forest did he stop and +look back. Over their heads the wind wailed and moaned in the spruce +tops, but even above that sound came the roar of the fire. Against his +breast Philip heard a sobbing cry, and suddenly he held the girl +closer, and crushed his face down against hers, fighting to keep back +the horror that was gripping at his heart. Even as he felt her arms +creeping up out of the bearskin and clinging about his neck he felt +upon him like a weight of lead the hopelessness of a despair as black +as the night itself. The cabin was now a pillar of flame, and in it was +everything that had made life possible for them. Food, shelter, +clothing—all were gone. In this moment he did not think of himself, +but of the girl he held in his arms, and he strained her closer and +kissed her lips and her eyes and her tumbled hair there in the +storm-swept darkness, telling her what he knew was now a lie—that she +was safe, that nothing could harm her. Against him he felt the tremble +and throb of her soft body, and it was this that filled him with the +horror of the thing—the terror of the thought that her one garment was +a bearskin. He had felt, a moment before, the chill touch of a naked +little foot. +</P> + +<P> +And yet he kept saying, with his face against hers: +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right, little sweetheart. We'll come out all right—we sure +will!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<P> +His first impulse, after those few appalling seconds following their +escape from the fire, was to save something from the cabin. Still +talking to Celie he dropped on his knees and tucked her up warmly in +the bearskin, with her back to a tree. He thanked God that it was a big +skin and that it enveloped her completely. Leaving her there he ran +back through the gate. He no longer feared the wolves. If they had not +already escaped into the forest he knew they would not attack him in +that hot glare of the one thing above all others they feared—fire. For +a space thought of the Eskimos, and the probability of the fire +bringing them from wherever they had sought shelter from the storm, was +secondary to the alarming necessity which faced him. Because of his +restlessness and his desire to be ready for any emergency he had not +undressed when he threw himself on his bunk that night, but he was +without a coat or cap. And Celie! He cried out aloud in his anguish +when he stopped just outside the deadline of the furnace of flame that +was once the cabin, and standing there with clenched hands he cursed +himself for the carelessness that had brought her face to face with a +peril deadlier than the menace of the Eskimos or Bram Johnson's wolves. +He alone was responsible. His indiscretion in overfilling the stove had +caused the fire, and in that other moment—when he might have snatched +up more than the bearskin—his mind had failed to act. +</P> + +<P> +In the short space he stood there helplessly in the red heat of the +fire the desperateness of the situation seared itself like the hot +flame itself in his brain. As prisoners in Bram's cabin, guarded by the +wolves and attacked by the Eskimos, they still had shelter, food, +clothing—a chance to live, at least the chance to fight. And now— +</P> + +<P> +He put a hand to his bare head and faced the direction of the storm. +With the dying away of the wind snow had begun to fall, and with this +snow he knew there would come a rising temperature. It was probably +twenty degrees below zero, and unless the wind went down completely his +ears would freeze in an hour or two. Then he thought of the thick +German socks he wore. One of them would do for a cap. His mind worked +swiftly after that. There was, after all, a tremendous thrill in the +thought of fighting the odds against him, and in the thought of the +girl waiting for him in the bearskin, her life depending upon him +utterly now. Without him she could not move from the tree where he had +left her unless her naked feet buried themselves in the snow. If +something happened to him—she would die. Her helplessness filled him +suddenly with a wild exultation, the joy of absolute possession that +leapt for an instant or two above his fears. She was something +more—now—than the woman he loved. She was a little child, to be +carried in his arms, to be sheltered from the wind and the cold until +the last drop of blood had ceased to flow in his veins. His was the +mighty privilege now to mother her until the end came for them both—or +some miracle saved them. The last barrier was gone from between them. +That he had met her only yesterday was an unimportant incident now. The +world had changed, life had changed, a long time had passed. She +belonged to him as utterly as the stars belonged to the skies. In his +arms she would find life—or death. +</P> + +<P> +He was braced for the fight. His mind, riding over its first fears, +began to shape itself for action even as he turned back toward the edge +of the forest. Until then he had not thought of the other cabin—the +cabin which Bram and he had passed on their way in from the Barren. His +heart rose up suddenly in his throat and he wanted to shout. That cabin +was their salvation! It was not more than eight or ten miles away, and +he was positive that he could find it. +</P> + +<P> +He ran swiftly through the increasing circle of light made by the +burning logs. If the Eskimos had not gone far some one of them would +surely see the red glow of the fire, and discovery now meant death. In +the edge of the trees, where the shadows were deep, he paused and +looked back. His hand fumbled where the left-pocket of his coat would +have been, and as he listened to the crackling of the flames and stared +into the heart of the red glow there smote him with sudden and +sickening force a realization of their deadliest peril. In that +twisting inferno of burning pitch was his coat, and in the left-hand +pocket of that coat WERE HIS MATCHES! +</P> + +<P> +Fire! Out there in the open a seething, twisting mass of it, taunting +him with its power, mocking him as pitiless as the mirage mocks a +thirst-crazed creature of the desert. In an hour or two it would be +gone. He might keep up its embers for a time—until the Eskimos, or +starvation, or still greater storm put an end to it. The effort, in any +event, would be futile in the end. Their one chance lay in finding the +other cabin, and reaching it quickly. When it came to the point of +absolute necessity he could at least try to make fire as he had seen an +Indian make it once, though at the time he had regarded the achievement +as a miracle born of unnumbered generations of practice. +</P> + +<P> +He heard the glad note of welcome in Celie's throat when he returned to +her. She spoke his name. It seemed to him that there was no note of +fear in her voice, but just gladness that he had come back to her in +that pit of darkness. He bent down and tucked her snugly in the big +bear-skin before he took her up in his arms again. He held her so that +her face was snuggled close against his neck, and he kissed her soft +mouth again, and whispered to her as he began picking his way through +the forest. His voice, whispering, made her understand that they must +make no sound. She was tightly imprisoned in the skin, but all at once +he felt one of her hands work its way out of the warmth of it and lay +against his cheek. It did not move away from his face. Out of her soul +and body there passed through that contact of her hand the confession +that made him equal to fighting the world. For many minutes after that +neither of them spoke. The moan of the wind was growing less and less +in the treetops, and once Philip saw a pale break where the clouds had +split asunder in the sky. The storm was at an end—and it was almost +dawn. In a quarter of an hour the shot like snow of the blizzard had +changed to big soft flakes that dropped straight out of the clouds in a +white deluge. By the time day came their trail would be completely +hidden from the eyes of the Eskimos. Because of that Philip traveled as +swiftly as the darkness and the roughness of the forest would allow +him. As nearly as he could judge he kept due east. For a considerable +time he did not feel the weight of the precious burden in his arms. He +believed that they were at least half a mile from the burned cabin +before he paused to rest. Even then he spoke to Celie in a low voice. +He had stopped where the trunk of a fallen tree lay as high as his +waist, and on this he seated the girl, holding her there in the crook +of his arm. With his other hand he fumbled to see if the bearskin +protected her fully, and in the investigation his hand came in contact +again with one of her bare feet. Celie gave a little jump. Then she +laughed, and he made sure that the foot was snug and warm before he +went on. +</P> + +<P> +Twice in the nest half mile he stopped. The third time, a full mile +from the cabin, was in a dense growth of spruce through the tops of +which snow and wind did not penetrate. Here he made a nest of +spruce-boughs for Celie, and they waited for the day. In the black +interval that precedes Arctic dawn they listened for sounds that might +come to them. Just once came the wailing howl of one of Bram's wolves, +and twice Philip fancied that he heard the distant cry of a human +voice. The second time Celie's fingers tightened about his own to tell +him that she, too, had heard. +</P> + +<P> +A little later, leaving Celie alone, Philip went back to the edge of +the spruce thicket and examined closely their trail where it had +crossed a bit of open. It was not half an hour old, yet the deluge of +snow had almost obliterated the signs of their passing. His one hope +was that the snowfall would continue for another hour. By that time +there would not be a visible track of man or beast, except in the heart +of the thickets. But he knew that he was not dealing with white men or +Indians now. The Eskimos were night-trackers and night-hunters. For +five months out of every twelve their existence depended upon their +ability to stalk and kill in darkness. If they had returned to the +burning cabin it was possible, even probable, that they were close on +their heels now. +</P> + +<P> +For a second time he found himself a stout club. He waited, listening, +and straining his eyes to penetrate the thick gloom; and then, as his +own heart-beats came to him audibly, he felt creeping over him a slow +and irresistible foreboding—a premonition of something impending, of a +great danger close at hand. His muscles grew tense, and he clutched the +club, ready for action. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<P> +It seemed to Philip, as he stood with the club ready in his hand, that +the world had ceased to breathe in its anticipation of the thing for +which he was waiting—and listening. The wind had dropped dead. There +was not a rustle in the tree-tops, not a sound to break the stillness. +The silence, so close after storm, was an Arctic phenomenon which did +not astonish him, and yet the effect of it was almost painfully +gripping. Minor sounds began to impress themselves on his senses—the +soft murmur of the falling snow, his own breath, the pounding of his +heart. He tried to throw off the strange feeling that oppressed him, +but it was impossible. Out there in the darkness he would have sworn +that there were eyes and ears strained as his own were strained. And +the darkness was lifting. Shadows began to disentangle themselves from +the gray chaos. Trees and bushes took form, and over his head the last +heavy windrows of clouds shouldered their way out of the sky. +</P> + +<P> +Still, as the twilight of dawn took the place of night, he did not +move, except to draw himself a little closer into the shelter of the +scrub spruce behind which he had hidden himself. He wondered if Celie +would be frightened at his absence. But he could not compel himself to +go on—or back. SOMETHING WAS COMING! He was as positive of it as he +was of the fact that night was giving place to day. Yet he could see +nothing—hear nothing. It was light enough now for him to see movement +fifty yards away, and he kept his eyes fastened on the little open +across which their trail had come. If Olaf Anderson the Swede had been +there he might have told him of another night like this, and another +vigil. For Olaf had learned that the Eskimos, like the wolves, trail +two by two and four by four, and that—again like the wolves—they +pursue not ON the trail but with the trail between them. +</P> + +<P> +But it was the trail that Philip watched; and as he kept his +vigil—that inexplicable mental undercurrent telling him that his +enemies were coming—his mind went back sharply to the girl a hundred +yards behind him. The acuteness of the situation sent question after +question rushing through his mind, even as he gripped his club, For her +he was about to fight. For her he was ready to kill, and not afraid to +die. He loved her. And yet—she was a mystery. He had held her in his +arms, had felt her heart beating against his breast, had kissed her +lips and her eyes and her hair, and her response had been to place +herself utterly within the shelter of his arms. She had given herself +to him and he was possessed of the strength of one about to fight for +his own. And with that strength the questions pounded again in his +head. Who was she? And for what reason were mysterious enemies coming +after her through the gray dawn? +</P> + +<P> +In that moment he heard a sound. His heart stood suddenly still. He +held his breath. It was a sound almost indistinguishable from the +whisper of the air and the trees and yet it smote upon his senses like +the detonation of a thunder-clap. It was more of a PRESENCE than a +sound. The trail was clear. He could see to the far side of the open +now, and there was no movement. He turned his head—slowly and without +movement of his body, and in that instant a gasp rose to his lips, and +died there. Scarcely a dozen paces from him stood a poised and hooded +figure, a squat, fire-eyed apparition that looked more like monster +than man in that first glance. Something acted within him that was +swifter than reason—a sub-conscious instinct that works for +self-preservation like the flash of powder in a pan. It was this +sub-conscious self that received the first photographic impression—the +strange poise of the hooded creature, the uplifted arm, the cold, +streaky gleam of something in the dawn-light, and in response to that +impression Philip's physical self crumpled down in the snow as a +javelin hissed through the space where his head and shoulders had been. +</P> + +<P> +So infinitesimal was the space of time between the throwing of the +javelin and Philip's movement that the Eskimo believed he had +transfixed his victim. A scream of triumph rose in his throat. It was +the Kogmollock sakootwow—the blood-cry, a single shriek that split the +air for a mile. It died in another sort of cry. From where he had +dropped Philip was up like a shot. His club swung through the air and +before the amazed hooded creature could dart either to one side or the +other it had fallen with crushing force. That one blow must have +smashed his shoulder to a pulp. As the body lurched downward another +blow caught the hooded head squarely and the beginning of a second cry +ended in a sickening grunt. The force of the blow carried Philip half +off his feet, and before he could recover himself two other figures had +rushed upon him from out of the gloom. Their cries as they came at him +were like the cries of beasts. Philip had no time to use his club. From +his unbalanced position he flung himself upward and at the nearest of +his enemies, saving himself from the upraised javelin by clinching. His +fist shot out and caught the Eskimo squarely in the mouth. He struck +again—and the javelin dropped from the Kogmollock's hand. In that +moment, every vein in his body pounding with the rage and excitement of +battle, Philip let out a yell. The end of it was stifled by a pair of +furry arms. His head snapped back—and he was down. +</P> + +<P> +A thrill of horror shot through him. It was the one unconquerable +fighting trick of the Eskimos—that neck hold. Caught from behind there +was no escape from it. It was the age-old sasaki-wechikun, or +sacrifice-hold, an inheritance that came down from father to son—the +Arctic jiu-jitsu by which one Kogmollock holds the victim helpless +while a second cuts out his heart. Flat on his back, with his head and +shoulders bent under him, Philip lay still for a single instant. He +heard the shrill command of the Eskimo over him—an exhortation for the +other to hurry up with the knife. And then, even as he heard a grunting +reply, his hand came in contact with the pocket which held Celie's +little revolver. He drew it quickly, cocked it under his back, and +twisting his arm until the elbow-joint cracked, he fired. It was a +chance shot. The powder-flash burned the murderous, thick-lipped face +in the sealskin hood. There was no cry, no sound that Philip heard. But +the arms relaxed about his neck. He rolled over and sprang to his feet. +Three or four paces from him was the Eskimo he had struck, crawling +toward him on his hands and knees, still dazed by the blows he had +received. In the snow Philip saw his club. He picked it up and replaced +the revolver in his pocket. A single blow as the groggy Eskimo +staggered to his feet and the fight was over. +</P> + +<P> +It had taken perhaps three or four minutes—no longer than that. His +enemies lay in three dark and motionless heaps in the snow. Fate had +played a strong hand with him. Almost by a miracle he had escaped and +at least two of the Eskimos were dead. +</P> + +<P> +He was still watchful, still guarding against a further attack, and +suddenly he whirled to face a figure that brought from him a cry of +astonishment and alarm. It was Celie. She was standing ten paces from +him, and in the wild terror that had brought her to him she had left +the bearskin behind. Her naked feet were buried in the snow. Her arms, +partly bared, were reaching out to him in the gray Arctic dawn, and +then wildly and moaningly there came to him— +</P> + +<P> +"Philip—Philip—" +</P> + +<P> +He sprang to her, a choking cry on his own lips. This, after all, was +the last proof—when she had thought that their enemies were killing +him SHE HAD COME TO HIM. He was sobbing her name like a boy as he ran +back with her in his arms. Almost fiercely he wrapped the bearskin +about her again, and then crushed her so closely in his arms that he +could hear her gasping faintly for breath. In that wild and glorious +moment he listened. A cold and leaden day was breaking over the world +and as they listened their hearts throbbing against each other, the +same sound came to them both. +</P> + +<P> +It was the sakootwow—the savage, shrieking blood-cry of the +Kogmollocks, a scream that demanded an answer of the three hooded +creatures who, a few minutes before, had attacked Philip in the edge of +the open. The cry came from perhaps a mile away. And then, faintly, it +was answered far to the west. For a moment Philip pressed his face down +to Celie's. In his heart was a prayer, for he knew that the fight had +only begun. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<P> +That the Eskimos both to the east and the west were more than likely to +come their way, converging toward the central cry that was now silent, +Philip was sure. In the brief interval in which he had to act he +determined to make use of his fallen enemies. This he impressed on +Celie's alert mind before he ran back to the scene of the fight. He +made no more than a swift observation of the field in these first +moments—did not even look for weapons. His thought was entirely of +Celie. The smallest of the three forms on the snow was the Kogmollock +he had struck down with his club. He dropped on his knees and took off +first the sealskin bashlyk, or hood. Then he began stripping the dead +man of his other garments. From the fur coat to the caribou-skin +moccasins they were comparatively new. With them in his arms he hurried +back to the girl. +</P> + +<P> +It was not a time for fine distinctions. The clothes were a godsend, +though they had come from a dead man's back, and an Eskimo's at that. +Celie's eyes shone with joy. It amazed him more than ever to see how +unafraid she was in this hour of great danger. She was busy with the +clothes almost before his back was turned. +</P> + +<P> +He returned to the Eskimos. The three were dead. It made him +shudder—one with a tiny bullet hole squarely between the eyes, and the +others crushed by the blows of the club. His hand fondled Celie's +little revolver—the pea-shooter he had laughed at. After all it had +saved his life. And the club— +</P> + +<P> +He did not examine too closely there. From the man he had struck with +his naked fist he outfitted himself with a hood and temiak, or coat. In +the temiak there were no pockets, but at the waist of each of the dead +men a narwhal skin pouch which answered for all pockets. He tossed the +three pouches in a little heap on the snow before he searched for +weapons. He found two knives and half a dozen of the murderous little +javelins. One of the knives was still clutched in the hand of the +Eskimo who was creeping up to disembowel him when Celie's revolver +saved him. He took this knife because it was longer and sharper than +the other. +</P> + +<P> +On his knees he began to examine the contents of the three pouches. In +each was the inevitable roll of babiche, or caribou-skin cord, and a +second and smaller waterproof narwhal bag in which were the Kogmollock +fire materials. There was no food. This fact was evident proof that the +Eskimos were in camp somewhere in the vicinity. He had finished his +investigation of the pouches when, looking up from his kneeling +posture, he saw Celie approaching. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of the grimness of the situation he could not repress a smile +as he rose to greet her. At fifty paces, even with her face toward him, +one would easily make the error of mistaking her for an Eskimo, as the +sealskin bashlyk was so large that it almost entirely concealed her +face except when one was very close to her. Philip's first assistance +was to roll back the front of the hood. Then he pulled her thick braid +out from under the coat and loosed the shining glory of her hair until +it enveloped her in a wonderful shimmering mantle. Their enemies could +not mistake her for a man NOW, even at a hundred yards. If they ran +into an ambuscade she would at least be saved from the javelins. +</P> + +<P> +Celie scarcely realized what he was doing. She was staring at the dead +men—silent proof of the deadly menace that had threatened them and of +the terrific fight Philip must have made. A strange note rose in her +throat, and turning toward him suddenly she flung herself into his +arms. Her own arms encircled his neck, and for a space she lay +shudderingly against his breast, as if sobbing. How many times he +kissed her in those moments Philip could not have told. It must have +been a great many. He knew only that her arms were clinging tighter and +tighter about his neck, and that she was whispering his name, and that +his hands were buried in her soft hair. He forgot time, forgot the +possible cost of precious seconds lost. It was a small thing that +recalled him to his senses. From out of a spruce top a handful of snow +fell on his shoulder. It startled him like the touch of a strange hand, +and in another moment he was explaining swiftly to Celie that there +were other enemies near and that they must lose no time in flight. +</P> + +<P> +He fastened one of the pouches at his waist, picked up his club, +and—on second thought—one of the Kogmollock javelins. He had no very +definite idea of how he might use the latter weapon, as it was too +slender to be of much avail as a spear at close quarters. At a dozen +paces he might possibly throw it with some degree of accuracy. In a +Kogmollock's hand it was a deadly weapon at a hundred paces. With the +determination to be at his side when the next fight came Celie +possessed herself of a second javelin. With her hand in his Philip set +out then due north through the forest. +</P> + +<P> +It was in that direction he knew the cabin must lay. After striking the +edge of the timber after crossing the Barren Bram Johnson had turned +almost directly south, and as he remembered the last lap of the journey +Philip was confident that not more than eight or ten miles had +separated the two cabins. He regretted now his carelessness in not +watching Brain's trail more closely in that last hour or two. His chief +hope of finding the cabin was in the discovery of some landmark at the +edge of the Barren. He recalled distinctly where they had turned into +the forest, and in less than half an hour after that they had come upon +the first cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Their immediate necessity was not so much the finding of the cabin as +escape from the Eskimos. Within half an hour, perhaps even less, he +believed that other eyes would know of the fight at the edge of the +open. It was inevitable. If the Kogmollocks on either side of them +struck the trail before it reached the open they would very soon run +upon the dead, and if they came upon footprints in the snow this side +of the open they would back-trail swiftly to learn the source and +meaning of the cry of triumph that had not repeated itself. Celie's +little feet, clad in moccasins twice too big for her, dragged in the +snow in a way that would leave no doubt in the Eskimo mind. As Philip +saw the situation there was one chance for them, and only one. They +could not escape by means of strategy. They could not hide from their +pursuers. Hope depended entirely upon the number of their enemies. If +there were only three or four of them left they would not attack in the +open. In that event he must watch for ambuscade, and dread the night. +He looked down at Celie, buried in her furry coat and hood and plodding +along courageously at his side with her hand in his. This was not a +time in which to question him, and she was obeying his guidance with +the faith of a child. It was tremendous, he thought—the most wonderful +moment that had ever entered into his life. It is this dependence, this +sublime faith and confidence in him of the woman he loves that gives to +a man the strength of a giant in the face of a great crisis and makes +him put up a tiger's fight for her. For such a woman a man must win. +And then Philip noticed how tightly Celie's other hand was gripping the +javelin with which she had armed herself. She was ready to fight, too. +The thrill of it all made him laugh, and her eyes shot up to him +suddenly, filled with a moment's wonder that he should be laughing now. +She must have understood, for the big hood hid her face again almost +instantly, and her fingers tightened the smallest bit about his. +</P> + +<P> +For a matter of a quarter of an hour they traveled as swiftly as Celie +could walk. Philip was confident that the Eskimo whose cries they had +heard would strike directly for the point whence the first cry had +come, and it was his purpose to cover as much distance as possible in +the first few minutes that their enemies might be behind them. It was +easier to watch the back trail than to guard against ambuscades ahead. +Twice in that time he stopped where they would be unseen and looked +back, and in advancing he picked out the thinnest timber and evaded +whatever might have afforded a hiding place to a javelin-thrower. They +had progressed another half mile when suddenly they came upon a +snowshoe trail in the snow. +</P> + +<P> +It had crossed at right angles to their own course, and as Philip bent +over it a sudden lump rose into his throat. The other Eskimos had not +worn snowshoes. That in itself had not surprised him, for the snow was +hard and easily traveled in moccasins. The fact that amazed him now was +that the trail under his eyes had not been made by Eskimo usamuks. The +tracks were long and narrow. The web imprint in the snow was not that +of the broad narwhal strip, but the finer mesh of babiche. It was +possible that an Eskimo was wearing them, but they were A WHITE MAN'S +SHOES! +</P> + +<P> +And then he made another discovery. For a dozen paces he followed in +the trail, allowing six inches with each step he took as the snowshoe +handicap. Even at that he could not easily cover the tracks. The man +who had made them had taken a longer snowshoe stride than his own by at +least nine inches. He could no longer keep the excitement of his +discovery from Celie. +</P> + +<P> +"The Eskimo never lived who could make that track," he exclaimed. "They +can travel fast enough but they're a bunch of runts when it comes to +leg-swing. It's a white man—or Bram!" +</P> + +<P> +The announcement of the wolf-man's name and Philip's gesture toward the +trail drew a quick little cry of understanding from Celie. In a flash +she had darted to the snowshoe tracks and was examining them with eager +intensity. Then she looked up and shook her head. It wasn't Bram! She +pointed to the tail of the shoe and catching up a twig broke it under +Philip's eyes. He remembered now. The end of Bram's shoes was snubbed +short off. There was no evidence of that defect in the snow. It was not +Bram who had passed that way. +</P> + +<P> +For a space he stood undecided. He knew that Celie was watching +him—that she was trying to learn something of the tremendous +significance of that moment from his face. The same unseen force that +had compelled him to wait and watch for his foes a short time before +seemed urging him now to follow the strange snowshoe trail. Enemy or +friend the maker of those tracks would at least be armed. The thought +of what a rifle and a few cartridges would mean to him and Celie now +brought a low cry of decision from him. He turned quickly to Celie. +</P> + +<P> +"He's going east—and we ought to go north to find the cabin," he told +her, pointing to the trail. "But we'll follow him. I want his rifle. I +want it more than anything else in this world, now that I've got you. +We'll follow—" +</P> + +<P> +If there had been a shadow of hesitation in his mind it was ended in +that moment. From behind them there came a strange hooting cry. It was +not a yell such as they had heard before. It was a booming far-reaching +note that had in it the intonation of a drum—a sound that made one +shiver because of its very strangeness. And then, from farther west, it +came— +</P> + +<P> +"Hoom—Hoom—Ho-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m—" +</P> + +<P> +In the next half minute it seemed to Philip that the cry was answered +from half a dozen different quarters. Then again it came from directly +behind them. +</P> + +<P> +Celie uttered a little gasp as she clung to his hand again. She +understood as well as he. One of the Eskimos had discovered the dead +and their foes were gathering in behind them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<P> +Before the last of the cries had died away Philip flung far to one side +of the trail the javelin he carried, and followed it up with Celie's, +impressing on her that every ounce of additional weight meant a +handicap for them now. After the javelins went his club. +</P> + +<P> +"It's going to be the biggest race I've ever run," he smiled at her. +"And we've got to win. If we don't—" +</P> + +<P> +Celie's eyes were aglow as she looked at him, He was splendidly calm. +There was no longer a trace of excitement in his face, and he was +smiling at her even as he picked her up suddenly in his arms. The +movement was so unexpected that she gave a little gasp. Then she found +herself borne swiftly over the trail. For a distance of a hundred yards +Philip ran with her before he placed her on her feet again. In no +better way could he have impressed on her that they were partners in a +race against death and that every energy must be expended in that race. +Scarcely had her feet touched the snow than she was running at his +side, her hand clasped in his. Barely a second was lost. +</P> + +<P> +With the swift directness of the trained man-hunter Philip had measured +his chances of winning. The Eskimos, first of all, would gather about +their dead. After one or two formalities they would join in a +chattering council, all of which meant precious time for them. The +pursuit would be more or less cautious because of the bullet hole in +the Kogmollock's forehead. +</P> + +<P> +If it had been possible for Celie to ask him just what he expected to +gain by following the strange snowshoe trail he would have had +difficulty in answering. It was, like his single shot with Celie's +little revolver, a chance gamble against big odds. A number of +possibilities had suggested themselves to him. It even occurred to him +that the man who was hurrying toward the east might be a member of the +Royal Northwest Mounted Police. Of one thing, however, he was +confident. The maker of the tracks would not be armed with javelins. He +would have a rifle. Friend or foe, he was after that rifle. The trick +was to catch sight of him at the earliest possible moment. +</P> + +<P> +How much of a lead the stranger had was a matter at which he could +guess with considerable accuracy. The freshness of the trail was only +slightly dimmed by snow, which was ample proof that it had been made at +the very tail-end of the storm. He believed that it was not more than +an hour old. +</P> + +<P> +For a good two hundred yards Philip set a dog-trot pace for Celie, who +ran courageously at his side. At the end of that distance he stopped. +Celie was panting for breath. Her hood had slipped back and her face +was flushed like a wildflower by her exertion. Her eyes shone like +stars, and her lips were parted a little. She was temptingly lovely, +but again Philip lost not a second of unnecessary time. He picked her +up in his arms again and continued the race. By using every ounce of +his own strength and endurance in this way he figured that their +progress would be at least a third faster than the Eskimos would +follow. The important question was how long he could keep up the pace. +</P> + +<P> +Against his breast Celie was beginning to understand his scheme as +plainly as if he had explained it to her in words. At the end of the +fourth hundred yards she let him know that she was ready to run another +lap. He carried her on fifty yards more before he placed her on her +feet. In this way they had gone three-quarters of a mile when the trail +turned abruptly from its easterly course to a point of the compass due +north. So sharp was the turn that Philip paused to investigate the +sudden change in direction. The stranger had evidently stood for +several minutes at this point, which was close to the blasted stub of a +dead spruce. In the snow Philip observed for the first time a number of +dark brown spots. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is where he took a new bearing—and a chew of tobacco," said +Philip, more to himself than to Celie. "And there's no snow in his +tracks. By George, I don't believe he's got more than half an hour's +start of us this minute!" +</P> + +<P> +It was his turn to carry Celie again, and in spite of her protest that +she was still good for another run he resumed their pursuit of the +stranger with her in his arms. By her quick breathing and the bit of +tenseness that had gathered about her mouth he knew that the exertion +she had already been put to was having its effect on her. For her +little feet and slender body the big moccasins and cumbersome fur +garments she wore were a burden in themselves, even at a walk. He found +that by holding her higher in his arms, with her own arms encircling +his shoulders, it was easier to run with her at the pace he had set for +himself. And when he held her in this way her hair covered his breast +and shoulders so that now and then his face was smothered in the +velvety sweetness of it. The caress of it and the thrill of her arms +about him spurred him on. Once he made three hundred yards. But he was +gulping for breath when he stopped. That time Celie compelled him to +let her run a little farther, and when they paused she was swaying on +her feet, and panting. He carried her only a hundred and fifty yards in +the interval after that. Both realized what it meant. The pace was +telling on them. The strain of it was in Celie's eyes. The flower-like +flush of her first exertion was gone from her face. It was pale and a +little haggard, and in Philip's face she saw the beginning of the +things which she did not realize was betraying itself so plainly in her +own. She put her hands up to his cheeks, and smiled. It was +tremendous—that moment;—her courage, her splendid pride in him, her +manner of telling him that she was not afraid as her little hands lay +against his face. For the first time he gave way to his desire to hold +her close to him, and kiss the sweet mouth she held up to his as her +head nestled on his breast. +</P> + +<P> +After a moment or two he looked at his watch. Since striking the +strange trail they had traveled forty minutes. In that tine they had +covered at least three miles, and were a good four miles from the scene +of the fight. It was a big start. The Eskimos were undoubtedly a half +that distance behind them, and the stranger whom they were following +could not be far ahead. +</P> + +<P> +They went on at a walk. For the third time they came to a point in the +trail where the stranger had stopped to make observations. It was +apparent to Philip that the man he was after was not quite sure of +himself. Yet he did not hesitate in the course due north. +</P> + +<P> +For half an hour they continued in that direction. Not for an instant +now did Philip allow; his caution to lag. Eyes and ears were alert for +sound or movement either behind or ahead of them, and more and more +frequently he turned to scan the back trail. They were at least five +miles from the edge of the open where the fight had occurred when they +came to the foot of a ridge, and Philip's heart gave a sudden thump of +hope. He remembered that ridge. It was a curiously formed +"hog-back"—like a great windrow of snow piled up and frozen. Probably +it was miles in length. Somewhere he and Bram had crossed it soon after +passing the first cabin. He had not tried to tell Celie of this cabin. +Time had been too precious. But now, in the short interval of rest he +allowed themselves, he drew a picture of it in the snow and made her +understand that it was somewhere close to the ridge and that it looked +as though the stranger was making for it. He half carried Celie up the +ridge after that. She could not hide from him that her feet were +dragging even at a walk. Exhaustion showed in her face, and once when +she tried to speak to him her voice broke in a little gasping sob. On +the far side of the ridge he took her in his arms and carried her again. +</P> + +<P> +"It can't be much farther," he encouraged her. "We've got to overtake +him pretty soon, dear. Mighty soon." Her hand pressed gently against +his cheek, and he swallowed a thickness that in spite of his effort +gathered in his throat. During that last half hour a different look had +come into her eyes. It was there now as she lay limply with her head on +his breast—a look of unutterable tenderness, and of something else. It +was that which brought the thickness into his throat. It was not fear. +It was the soft glow of a great love—and of understanding. She knew +that even he was almost at the end of his fight. His endurance was +giving out. One of two things must happen very soon. She continued to +stroke his cheek gently until he placed her on her feet again, and then +she held one of his hands close to her breast as they looked behind +them, and listened. He could feel the soft throbbing of her heart. If +he needed greater courage then it was given to him. +</P> + +<P> +They went on. And then, so suddenly that it brought a stifled cry from +the girl's lips, they came upon the cabin. It was not a hundred yards +from them when they first saw it. It was no longer abandoned. A thin +spiral of smoke was rising from the chimney. There was no sign of life +other than that. +</P> + +<P> +For half a minute Philip stared at it. Here, at last, was the final +hope. Life or death, all that the world might hold for him and the girl +at his side, was in that cabin. Gently he drew her so that she would be +unseen. And then, still looking at the cabin, he drew off his coat and +dropped it in the snow. It was the preparation of a man about to fight. +The look of it was in his face and the stiffening of his muscles, and +when he turned to his little companion she was as white as the snow +under her feet. +</P> + +<P> +"We're in time," he breathed. "You—you stay here." +</P> + +<P> +She understood. Her hands clutched at him as he left her. A gulp rose +in her throat. She wanted to call out. She wanted to hold him back—or +go with him. Yet she obeyed. She stood with a heart that choked her and +watched him go. For she knew, after all, that it was the thing to do. +Sobbingly she breathed his name. It was a prayer. For she knew what +would happen in the cabin. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<P> +Philip came up behind the windowless end of the cabin. He noticed in +passing with Bram that on the opposite side was a trap-window of +saplings, and toward this he moved swiftly but with caution. It was +still closed when he came where he could see. But with his ear close to +the chinks he heard a sound—the movement of some one inside. For an +instant he looked over his shoulder. Celia was standing where he had +left her. He could almost feel the terrible suspense that was in her +eyes as she watched him. +</P> + +<P> +He moved around toward the door. There was in him an intense desire to +have it over with quickly. His pulse quickened as the thought grew in +him that the maker of the strange snowshoe trail might be a friend +after all. But how was he to discover that fact? He had decided to take +no chances in the matter. Ten seconds of misplaced faith in the +stranger might prove fatal. Once he held a gun in his hands he would be +in a position to wait for introductions and explanations. But until +then, with their Eskimo enemies close at their heels— +</P> + +<P> +His mind did not finish that final argument. The end of it smashed upon +him in another way. The door came within his vision. As it swung inward +he could not at first see whether it was open or closed. Leaning +against the logs close to the door was a pair of long snowshoes and a +bundle of javelins. A sickening disappointment swept over him as he +stared at the javelins. A giant Eskimo and not a white man had made the +trail they had followed. Their race against time had brought them +straight to the rendezvous of their foes—and there would be no guns. +In that moment when all the hopes he had built up seemed slipping away +from under him he could see no other possible significance in the +presence of the javelins. Then, for an instant, he held his breath and +sniffed the air like a dog getting the wind. The cabin door was open. +And out through that door came the mingling aroma of coffee and +tobacco! An Eskimo might have tobacco, or even tea. But coffee—never! +</P> + +<P> +Every drop of blood in his body pounded like tiny beating fists as he +crossed silently and swiftly the short space between the corner of the +cabin and the open door. For perhaps half a dozen seconds he closed his +eyes to give his snow-strained vision an even chance with the man in +the cabin. Then he looked in. +</P> + +<P> +It was a small cabin. It was possibly not more than ten feet square +inside, and at the far end of it was a fireplace from which rose the +chimney through the roof. At first Philip saw nothing except the dim +outlines of things. It was a moment or two before he made out the +figure of a man stooping over the fire. He stepped over the threshold, +making no sound. The occupant of the cabin straightened himself slowly, +lifting with, extreme care a pot of coffee from the embers. A glance at +his broad back and his giant stature told Philip that he was not an +Eskimo. He turned. Even then for an infinitesimal space he did not see +Philip as he stood fronting the door with the light in his face. It was +a white man's face—a face almost hidden in a thick growth of beard and +a tangle of hair that fell to the shoulders. Another instant and he had +seen the intruder and stood like one turned suddenly into stone. +</P> + +<P> +Philip had leveled Celie's little revolver. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Philip Raine of His Majesty's service, the Royal Mounted," he +said. "Throw, up your hands!" +</P> + +<P> +The moment's tableau was one of rigid amazement on one side, of waiting +tenseness on the other. Philip believed that the shadow of his body +concealed the size of the tiny revolver in his hand. Anyway it would be +effective at that distance, and he expected to see the mysterious +stranger's hands go over his head the moment he recovered from the +shock that had apparently gone with the command. What did happen he +expected least of all. The arm holding the pot of steaming coffee shot +out and the boiling deluge hissed straight at Philip's face. He ducked +to escape it, and fired. Before he could throw back the hammer of the +little single-action weapon for a second shot the stranger was at him. +The force of the attack sent them both crashing back against the wall +of the cabin, and in the few moments that followed Philip blessed the +providential forethought that had made him throw off his fur coat and +strip for action. His antagonist was not an ordinary man. A growl like +that of a beast rose in his throat as they went to the floor, and in +that death-grip Philip thought of Bram. +</P> + +<P> +More than once in watching the wolf-man he had planned how he would pit +himself against the giant if it came to a fight, and how he would evade +the close arm-to-arm grapple that would mean defeat for him. And this +man was Bram's equal in size and strength. He realized with the swift +judgment of the trained boxer that open fighting and the evasion of the +other's crushing brute strength was his one hope. On his knees he flung +himself backward, and struck out. The blow caught his antagonist +squarely in the face before he had succeeded in getting a firm clinch, +and as he bent backward under the force of the blow Philip exerted +every ounce of his strength, broke the other's hold, and sprang to his +feet. +</P> + +<P> +He felt like uttering a shout of triumph. Never had the thrill of +mastery and of confidence surged through him more hotly than it did +now. On his feet in open fighting he had the agility of a cat. The +stranger was scarcely on his feet before he was at him with a straight +shoulder blow that landed on the giant's jaw with crushing force. It +would have put an ordinary man down in a limp heap. The other's weight +saved him. A second blow sent him reeling against the log wall like a +sack of grain. And then in the half-gloom of the cabin Philip missed. +He put all his effort in that third blow and as his clenched fist shot +over the other's shoulder he was carried off his balance and found +himself again in the clutch of his enemy's arms. This time a huge hand +found his throat. The other he blocked with his left arm, while with +his right he drove in short-arm jabs against neck and jaw. Their +ineffectiveness amazed him. His guard-arm was broken upward, and to +escape the certain result of two hands gripping at his throat he took a +sudden foot-lock on his adversary, flung all his weight forward, and +again they went to the floor of the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +Neither caught a glimpse of the girl standing wide-eyed and terrified +in the door. They rolled almost to her feet. Full in the light she saw +the battered, bleeding face of the strange giant, and Philip's fist +striking it again and again. Then she saw the giant's two hands, and +why he was suffering that punishment. They were at Philip's +throat—huge hairy hands stained with his own blood. A cry rose to her +lips and the blue in her eyes darkened with the fighting fire of her +ancestors. She darted across the room to the fire. In an instant she +was back with a stick of wood in her hands. Philip saw her then—her +streaming hair and white face above them, and the club fell. The hands +at his throat relaxed. He swayed to his feet and with dazed eyes and a +weird sort of laugh opened his arms. Celie ran into them. He felt her +sobbing and panting against him. Then, looking down, he saw that for +the present the man who had made the strange snowshoe trail was as good +as dead. +</P> + +<P> +The air he was taking into his half strangled lungs cleared his head +and he drew away from Celie to begin the search of the room. His eyes +were more accustomed to the gloom, and suddenly he gave a cry of +exultation. Against the end of the mud and stone fireplace stood a +rifle and over the muzzle of this hung a belt and holster. In the +holster was a revolver. In his excitement and joy his breath was almost +a sob as he snatched it from the holster and broke it in the light of +the door. It was a big Colt Forty-five—and loaded to the brim. He +showed it to Celie, and thrust her to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Watch!" he cried, sweeping his arm to the open. "Just two minutes +more. That's all I want—two minutes—and then—" +</P> + +<P> +He was counting the cartridges in the belt as he fastened it about his +waist. There were at least forty, two-thirds of them soft-nosed rifle. +The caliber was .303 and the gun was a Savage. It was modern up to the +minute, and as he threw down the lever enough to let him glimpse inside +the breech he caught the glisten of cartridges ready for action. He +wanted nothing more. The cabin might have held his weight in gold and +he would not have turned toward it. +</P> + +<P> +With the rifle in his hands he ran past Celie out into the day. For the +moment the excitement pounding in his body had got beyond his power of +control. His brain was running riot with the joyous knowledge of the +might that lay in his hands now and he felt an overmastering desire to +shout his triumph in the face of their enemies. +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, you devils! Come on, come on," he cried. And then, powerless +to restrain what was in him, he let out a yell. +</P> + +<P> +From the door Celie was staring at him. A few moments before her face +had been dead white. Now a blaze of color was surging back into her +cheeks and lips and her eyes shone with the glory of one who was +looking on more than triumph. From her own heart welled up a cry, a +revelation of that wonderful thing throbbing in her breast which must +have reached Philip's ears had there not in that same instant come +another sound to startle them both into listening silence. +</P> + +<P> +It was not far distant. And it was unmistakably an answer to Philip's +challenge. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<P> +As they listened the cry came again. This time Philip caught in it a +note that he had not detected before. It was not a challenge but the +long-drawn ma-too-ee of an Eskimo who answers the inquiring hail of a +comrade. +</P> + +<P> +"He thinks it is the man in the cabin," exclaimed Philip, turning to +survey the fringe of forest through which their trail had come. "If the +others don't warn him there's going to be one less Eskimo on earth in +less than three minutes!" +</P> + +<P> +Another sound had drawn Celie back to the door. "When she looked in the +man she had stunned with the club was moving. Her call brought Philip, +and placing her in the open door to keep watch he set swiftly to work +to make sure of their prisoner. With the babiche thong he had taken +from his enemies he bound him hand and foot. A shaft of light fell full +on the giant's face and naked chest where it had been laid bare in the +struggle and Philip was about to rise when a purplish patch, of +tattooing caught his eyes. He made out first the crude picture of a +shark with huge gaping jaws struggling under the weight of a ship's +anchor, and then, directly under this pigment colored tatu, the almost +invisible letters of a name. He made them out one by one—B-l-a-k-e. +Before the surname was the letter G. +</P> + +<P> +"Blake," he repeated, rising to his feet. "GEORGE Blake—a sailor—and +a white man!" +</P> + +<P> +Blake, returning to consciousness, mumbled incoherently. In the same +instant Celie cried out excitedly at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Oo-ee, Philip—Philip! Se det! Se! Se!" +</P> + +<P> +She drew back with, a sudden movement and pointed out the door. +Concealing himself as much as possible from outside observation Philip +peered forth. Not more than a hundred and fifty yards away a dog team +was approaching. There were eight dogs and instantly he recognized them +as the small fox-faced Eskimo breed from the coast. They were dragging +a heavily laden sledge and behind them came the driver, a furred and +hooded figure squat of stature and with a voice that came now in the +sharp clacking commands that Philip had heard in the company of Bram +Johnson. From the floor came a groan, and for an instant Philip turned +to find Blake's bloodshot eyes wide open and staring at him. The +giant's bleeding lips were gathered in a snarl and he was straining at +the babiche thongs that bound him. In that same moment Philip caught a +glimpse of Celie. She, too, was staring—and at Blake. Her lips were +parted, her eyes were big with amazement and as she looked she clutched +her hands convulsively at her breast and uttered a low, strange cry. +For the first time she saw Blake's face with the light full upon it. At +the sound of her cry Blake's eyes went to her, and for the space of a +second the imprisoned beast on the floor and the girl looking down on +him made up a tableau that held Philip spellbound. Between them was +recognition—an amazed and stone like horror on the girl's part, a +sudden and growing glare of bestial exultation in the eyes of the man. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there came the Eskimo's voice and the yapping of dogs. It was +the first Blake had heard. He swung his head toward the door with a +great gasp and the babiche cut like whipcord under the strain of his +muscles. Swift as a flash Philip thrust the muzzle of the big Colt +against his prisoner's head. +</P> + +<P> +"Make a sound and you're a dead man, Blake!" he warned. "We need that +team, and if you so much as whisper during the next ten seconds I'll +scatter your brains over the floor!" +</P> + +<P> +They could hear the cold creak of the sledge-runners now, and a moment +later the patter of many feet outside the door. In a single leap Philip +was at the door. Another and he was outside, and an amazed Eskimo was +looking into the round black eye of his revolver. It required no common +language to make him understand what was required of him. He backed +into the cabin with the revolver within two feet of his breast. Celie +had caught up the rifle and was standing guard over Blake as though +fearful that he might snap his bonds. Philip laughed joyously when he +saw how quickly she understood that she was to level the rifle at the +Kogmollock's breast and hold it there until he had made him a prisoner. +She was wonderful. She was panting in her excitement. From the floor +Blake had noticed that her little white finger was pressing gently +against the trigger of the rifle. It had made him shudder. It made the +Eskimo cringe a bit now as Philip tied his hands behind him. And Philip +saw it, and his heart thumped. Celie was gloriously careless. +</P> + +<P> +It was over inside of two minutes, and with an audible sigh of relief +she lowered her rifle. Then she leaned it against the wall and ran to +Blake. She was tremendously excited as she pointed down into the +bloodstained face and tried to explain to Philip the reason for that +strange and thrilling recognition he had seen between them. From her he +looked at Blake. The look in the prisoner's face sent a cold shiver +through him. There was no fear in it. It was filled with a deep and +undisguised exultation. Then Blake looked at Philip, and laughed +outright. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't understand her, eh?" he chuckled. "Well, neither can I. But I +know what she's trying to tell you. Damned funny, ain't it?" +</P> + +<P> +It was impossible for him to keep his eyes from shifting to the door. +There was expectancy in that glance. Then his glance shot almost +fiercely at Philip. +</P> + +<P> +"So you're Philip Raine, of the R. N. M. P., eh? Well, you've got me +guessed out. My name is Blake, but the G don't stand for George. If +you'll cut the cord off'n my legs so I can stand up or sit down I'll +tell you something. I can't do very much damage with my hands hitched +the way they are, and I can't talk layin' down cause of my Adam's apple +chokin' me." +</P> + +<P> +Philip seized the rifle and placed it again in Celie's hands, +stationing her once more at the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Watch—and listen," he said. +</P> + +<P> +He cut the thongs that bound his prisoner's ankles and Blake struggled +to his feet. When he fronted Philip the big Colt was covering his heart. +</P> + +<P> +"Now—talk!" commanded Philip. "I'm going to give you half a minute to +begin telling me what I want to know, Blake. You've brought the Eskimos +down. There's no doubt of that. What do you want of this girl, and what +have you done with her people?" +</P> + +<P> +He had never looked into the eyes of a cooler man than Blake, whose +blood-stained lips curled in a sneering smile even as he finished. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't built to be frightened," he said, taking his time about it. "I +know your little games an' I've throwed a good many bluffs of my own in +my time. You're lyin' when you say you'll shoot, an' you know you are. +I may talk and I may not. Before I make up my mind I'm going to give +you a bit of brotherly advice. Take that team out there and hit across +the Barren—ALONE. Understand? ALONE. Leave the girl here. It's your +one chance of missing what happened to—" +</P> + +<P> +He grinned and shrugged his huge shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean Anderson—Olaf Anderson—and the others up at Bathurst +Inlet?" questioned Philip chokingly. +</P> + +<P> +Blake nodded. +</P> + +<P> +Philip wondered if the other could hear the pounding of his heart. He +had discovered in this moment what the Department had been trying to +learn for two years. It was this man—Blake—who was the mysterious +white leader of the Kogmollocks, and responsible for the growing +criminal record of the natives along Coronation Gulf. And he had just +confessed himself the murderer of Olaf Anderson! His finger trembled +for an instant against the trigger of his revolver. Then, staring into +Blake's face, he slowly lowered the weapon until it hung at his side. +Blake's eyes gleamed as he saw what he thought was his triumph. +</P> + +<P> +"IT'S your one chance," he urged. "And there ain't no time to lose." +</P> + +<P> +Philip had judged his man, and now he prayed for the precious minutes +in which to play out his game. The Kogmollocks who had taken up their +trail could not be far from the cabin now. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you're right, Blake," he said hesitatingly. "I think, after her +experience with Bram Johnson that she is about willing to return to her +father. Where is he?" +</P> + +<P> +Blake made no effort to disguise his eagerness. In the droop of +Philip's shoulder, the laxness of the hand that held the revolver and +the change in his voice Blake saw in his captor an apparent desire to +get out of the mess he was in. A glimpse of Celie's frightened face +turned for an instant from the door gave weight to his conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"He's down the Coppermine—about a hundred miles. So, Bram Johnson—" +</P> + +<P> +His eyes were a sudden blaze of fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Took care of her until your little rats waylaid him on the trail and +murdered him," interrupted Philip. "See here, Blake. You be square with +me and I'll be square with you. I haven't been able to understand a +word of her lingo and I'm curious to know a thing or two before I go. +Tell me who she is, and why you haven't killed her father, and what +you're going to do with her and I won't waste another minute." +</P> + +<P> +Blake leaned forward until Philip felt the heat of his breath. +</P> + +<P> +"What do I WANT of her?" he demanded slowly. "Why, if you'd been five +years without sight of a white woman, an' then you woke up one morning +to meet an angel like HER on the trail two thousand miles up in nowhere +what would you want of her? I was stunned, plumb stunned, or I'd had +her then. And after that, if it hadn't been for that devil with his +wolves—" +</P> + +<P> +"Bram ran away with her just as you were about to get her into your +hands," supplied Philip, fighting to save time. "She didn't even know +that you wanted her, Blake, so far as I can find out. It's all a +mystery to her. I don't believe she's guessed the truth even now. How +the devil did you do it? Playing the friend stunt, eh! And keeping +yourself in the background while your Kogmollocks did the work? Was +that it?" +</P> + +<P> +Blake nodded. His face was darkening as he looked at Philip and the +light in his eyes was changing to a deep and steady glare. In that +moment Philip had failed to keep the exultation out of his voice. It +shone in his face. And Blake saw it. A throaty sound rose out of his +thick chest and his lips parted in a snarl as there surged through him +a realization that he had been tricked. +</P> + +<P> +In that interval Philip spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"If I never sent up a real prayer to God before I'm sending it now, +Blake," he said. "I'm thanking Him that you didn't have time to harm +Celie Armin, an' I'm thanking Him that Bram Johnson had a soul in his +body in spite of his warped brain and his misshapen carcass. And now +I'm going to keep my word. I'm not going to lose another minute. Come!" +</P> + +<P> +"You—you mean—" +</P> + +<P> +"No, you haven't guessed it. We're not going over the Barren. We're +going back to that cabin on the Coppermine, and you're going with us. +And listen to this, Blake—listen hard! There may be fighting. If there +is I want you to sort of harden yourself to the fact that the first +shot fired is going straight through your gizzard. Do I make myself +clear? I'll shoot you deader than a salt mackerel the instant one of +your little murderers shows up on the trail. So tell this owl-faced +heathen here to spread the glad tidings when his brothers come in—and +spread it good. Quick about it! I'm not bluffing now." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<P> +In Philip's eyes Blake saw his match now. And more. For three-quarters +of a minute he talked swiftly to the Eskimo. Philip knew that he was +giving the Kogmollock definite instructions as to the manner in which +his rescue must be accomplished. But he knew also that Blake would +emphasize the fact that it must not be in open attack, no matter how +numerous his followers might be. +</P> + +<P> +He hurried Blake through the door to the sledge and team. The sledge +was heavily laden with the meat of a fresh caribou kill and from the +quantity of flesh he dragged off into the snow Philip surmised that the +cabin would very soon be the rendezvous of a small army of Eskimo. +There was probably a thousand pounds of it, Retaining only a single +quarter of this he made Celie comfortable and turned his attention to +Blake. With babiche cord he re-secured his prisoner with the +"manacle-hitch," which gave him free play of one hand and arm—his +left. Then he secured the Eskimo's whip and gave it to Blake. +</P> + +<P> +"Now—drive!" he commanded. "Straight for the Coppermine, and by the +shortest cut. This is as much your race as mine now, Blake. The moment +I see a sign of anything wrong you're a dead man!" +</P> + +<P> +"And you—are a fool!" gritted Blake. "Good God, what a fool!" +</P> + +<P> +"Drive—and shut up!" +</P> + +<P> +Blake snapped his whip and gave a short, angry command in Eskimo. The +dogs sprang from their bellies to their feet and at another command +were off over the trail. From the door of the cabin the Eskimo's little +eyes shone with a watery eagerness as he watched them go. Celie caught +a last glimpse of him as she looked back and her hands gripped more +firmly the rifle which lay across her lap. Philip had given her the +rifle and it had piled upon her a mighty responsibility. He had meant +that she should use it if the emergency called for action, and that she +was to especially watch Blake. Her eyes did not leave the outlaw's +broad back as he ran on a dozen paces ahead of the dogs. She was ready +for him if he tried to escape, and she would surely fire. Running close +to her side Philip observed the tight grip of her hands on the weapon, +and saw one little thumb pinched up against the safety ready for +instant action. He laughed, and for a moment she looked up at him, +flushing suddenly when she saw the adoration in his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Blake's right—I'm a fool," he cried down at her in a low voice that +thrilled with his worship of her. "I'm a fool for risking you, +sweetheart. By going the other way I'd have you forever. They wouldn't +follow far into the south, if at all. Mebby you don't realize what +we're doing by hitting back to that father of yours. Do you?" +</P> + +<P> +She smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"And mebby when we get there we'll find him dead," he added. "Dead or +alive, everything is up to Blake now and you must help me watch him." +</P> + +<P> +He pantomimed this caution by pointing to Blake and the rifle. Then he +dropped behind. Over the length of sledge and team he was thirty paces +from Blake. At that distance he could drop him with a single shot from +the Colt. +</P> + +<P> +They were following the trail already made by the meat-laden sledge, +and the direction was northwest. It was evident that Blake was heading +at least in the right direction and Philip believed that it would be +but a short time before they would strike the Coppermine. Once on the +frozen surface of the big stream that flowed into the Arctic and their +immediate peril of an ambuscade would be over. Blake was surely aware +of that. If he had in mind a plan for escaping it must of necessity +take form before they reached the river. +</P> + +<P> +"Where the forest thinned out and the edge of the Barren crept in +Philip ran at Celie's side, but when the timber thickened and possible +hiding places for their enemies appeared in the trail ahead he was +always close to Blake, with the big Colt held openly in his hand. At +these times Celie watched the back trail. From her vantage on the +sledge her alert eyes took in every bush and thicket to right and left +of them, and when Philip was near or behind her she was looking at +least a rifle-shot ahead of Blake. For three-quarters of an hour they +had followed the single sledge trail when Blake suddenly gave a command +that stopped the dogs. They had reached a crest which overlooked a +narrow finger of the treeless Barren on the far side of which, possibly +a third of a mile distant, was a dark fringe of spruce timber. Blake +pointed toward this timber. Out of it was rising a dark column of +resinous smoke. +</P> + +<P> +"It's up to you," he said coolly to Philip. "Our trail crosses through +that timber—and you see the smoke. I imagine there are about twenty of +Upi's men there feeding on caribou. The herd was close beyond when they +made the kill. Now if we go on they're most likely to see us, or their +dogs get wind of us—and Upi is a bloodthirsty old cutthroat. I don't +want that bullet through my gizzard, so I'm tellin' you." +</P> + +<P> +Far back in Blake's eyes there lurked a gleam which Philip did not +like. Blake was not a man easily frightened, and yet he had given what +appeared to be fair warning to his enemy. +</P> + +<P> +He came a step nearer, and said in a lower voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Raine, that's just ONE of Upi's crowds. If you go on to the cabin +we're heading for there'll be two hundred fighting men after you before +the day is over, and they'll get you whether you kill me or not. You've +still got the chance I gave you back there. Take it—if you ain't tired +of life. Give me the girl—an' you hit out across the Barren with the +team." +</P> + +<P> +"We're going on," replied Philip, meeting the other's gaze steadily. +"You know your little murderers, Blake. If any one can get past them +without being seen it's you. And you've got to do it. I'll kill you if +you don't. The Eskimos may get us after that, but they won't harm HER +in your way. Understand? We're going the limit in this game. And I +figure you're putting up the biggest stake. I've got a funny sort of +feeling that you're going to cash in before we reach the cabin." +</P> + +<P> +For barely an instant the mysterious gleam far back in Blake's eyes +died out. There was the hard, low note in Philip's voice which carried +conviction and Blake knew he was ready to play the hand which he held. +With a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders he stirred up the dogs with a +crack of his whip and struck out at their head due west. During the +next half hour Philip's eyes and ears were ceaselessly on the alert. He +traveled close to Blake, with the big Colt in his hand, watching every +hummock and bit of cover as they came to it. He also watched Blake and +in the end was convinced that in the back of the outlaw's head was a +sinister scheme in which he had the utmost confidence in spite of his +threats and the fact that they had successfully got around Upi's camp. +Once or twice when their eyes happened to meet he caught in Blake's +face a contemptuous coolness, almost a sneering exultation which the +other could not quite conceal. It filled him with a scarcely definable +uneasiness. He was positive that Blake realized he would carry out his +threat at the least sign of treachery or the appearance of an enemy, +and yet he could not free himself from the uncomfortable oppression +that was beginning to take hold of him. He concealed it from Blake. He +tried to fight it out of himself. Yet it persisted. It was something +which seemed to hover in the air about him—the FEEL of a danger which +he could not see. +</P> + +<P> +And then Blake suddenly pointed ahead over an open plain and said: +</P> + +<P> +"There is the Coppermine." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<P> +A cry from Celie turned his gaze from the broad white trail of ice that +was the Coppermine, and as he looked she pointed eagerly toward a huge +pinnacle of rock that rose like an oddly placed cenotaph out of the +unbroken surface of the plain. +</P> + +<P> +Blake grunted out a laugh in his beard and his eyes lit up with an +unpleasant fire as they rested on her flushed face. +</P> + +<P> +"She's tellin' you that Bram Johnson brought her this way," he +chuckled. "Bram was a fool—like you!" +</P> + +<P> +He seemed not to expect a reply from Philip, but urged the dogs down +the slope into the plain. Fifteen minutes later they were on the +surface of the river. +</P> + +<P> +Philip drew a deep breath of relief, and he found that same relief in +Celie's face when he dropped back to her side. As far as they could see +ahead of them there was no forest. The Coppermine itself seemed to be +swallowed up in the vast white emptiness of the Barren. There could be +no surprise attack here, even at night. And yet there was something in +Blake's face which kept alive within him the strange premonition of a +near and unseen danger. Again and again he tried to shake off the +feeling. He argued with himself against the unreasonableness of the +thing that had begun to oppress him. Blake was in his power. It was +impossible for him to escape, and the outlaw's life depended utterly +upon his success in getting them safely to the cabin. It was not +conceivable to suppose that Blake would sacrifice his life merely that +they might fall into the hands of the Eskimos. And yet— +</P> + +<P> +He watched Blake—watched him more and more closely as they buried +themselves deeper in that unending chaos of the north. And Blake, it +seemed to him, was conscious of that increasing watchfulness. He +increased his speed. Now and then Philip heard a curious chuckling +sound smothered in his beard, and after an hour's travel on the +snow-covered ice of the river he could no longer dull his vision to the +fact that the farther they progressed into the open country, the more +confident Blake was becoming. He did not question him. He realized the +futility of attempting to force his prisoner into conversation. In that +respect it was Blake who held the whip hand. He could lie or tell the +truth, according to the humor of his desire. Blake must have guessed +this thought in Philip's mind. They were traveling side by side when he +suddenly laughed. There was an unmistakable irony in his voice when he +said: +</P> + +<P> +"It's funny, Raine, that I should like you, ain't it? A man who's +mauled you, an' threatened to kill you! I guess it's because I'm so +cussed sorry for you. You're heading straight for the gates of hell, +an' they're open—wide open." +</P> + +<P> +"And you?" +</P> + +<P> +This time Blake's laugh was harsher. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't count—now," he said. "Since you've made up your mind not to +trade me the girl for your life I've sort of dropped out of the game. I +guess you're thinking I can hold Upi's tribe back. Well, I can't—not +when you're getting this far up in their country. If we split the +difference, and you gave me HER, Upi would meet me half way. God, but +you've spoiled a nice dream!" +</P> + +<P> +"A dream?" +</P> + +<P> +Blake uttered a command to the dogs. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—more'n that. I've got an igloo up there even finer than +Upi's—all built of whalebone and ships' timbers. Think of HER in that, +Raine—with ME! That's the dream you smashed!" +</P> + +<P> +"And her father—and the others—" +</P> + +<P> +This time there was a ferocious undercurrent in Blake's guttural laugh, +as though Philip had by accident reminded him of something that both +amused and enraged him. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know how these Kogmollock heathen look on a father-in-law?" +he asked. "He's sort of walkin' delegate over the whole bloomin' +family. A god with two legs. The OTHERS? Why, we killed them. But Upi +and his heathen wouldn't see anything happen to the old man when they +found I was going to take the girl. That's why he's alive up there in +the cabin now. Lord, what a mess you're heading into, Raine! And I'm +wondering, after you kill me, and they kill you, WHO'LL HAVE THE GIRL? +There's a half-breed in the tribe an' she'll probably go to him. The +heathen themselves don't give a flip for women, you know. So it's +certain to be the half-breed." +</P> + +<P> +He surged on ahead, cracking his whip, and crying out to the dogs. +Philip believed that in those few moments he had spoken much that was +truth. He had, without hesitation and of his own volition, confessed +the murder of the companions of Celie's father, and he had explained in +a reasonable way why Armin himself had been spared. These facts alone +increased his apprehension. Unless Blake was utterly confident of the +final outcome he would not so openly expose himself. He was even more +on his guard after this. +</P> + +<P> +For several hours after his brief fit of talking Blake made no effort +to resume the conversation nor any desire to answer Philip when the +latter spoke to him. A number of times it struck Philip that he was +going the pace that would tire out both man and beast before night. He +knew that in Blake's shaggy head there was a brain keenly and +dangerously alive, and he noted the extreme effort he was making to +cover distance with a satisfaction that was not unmixed of suspicion. +By three o'clock in the afternoon they were thirty-five miles from the +cabin in which Blake had become a prisoner. All that distance they had +traveled through a treeless barren without a sign of life. It was +between three and four when they began to strike timber once more, and +Philip asked himself if it had been Blake's scheme to reach this timber +before dusk. In places the spruce and banskian pine thickened until +they formed dark walls of forest and whenever they approached these +patches Philip commanded Blake to take the middle of the river. The +width of the stream was a comforting protection. It was seldom less +than two hundred yards from shore to shore and frequently twice that +distance. From the possible ambuscades they passed only a rifle could +be used effectively, and whenever there appeared to be the possibility +of that danger Philip traveled close to Blake, with the revolver in his +hand. The crack of a rifle even if the bullet should find its way home, +meant Blake's life. Of that fact the outlaw could no longer have a +doubt. +</P> + +<P> +For an hour before the gray dusk of Arctic night began to gather about +them Philip began to feel the effect of their strenuous pace. Hours of +cramped inactivity on the sledge had brought into Celie's face lines of +exhaustion. Since middle-afternoon the dogs had dragged at times in +their traces. Now they were dead-tired. Blake, and Blake alone, seemed +tireless. It was six o'clock when they entered a country that was +mostly plain, with a thin fringe of timber along the shores. They had +raced for nine hours, and had traveled fifty miles. It was here, in a +wide reach of river, that Philip gave the command to halt. +</P> + +<P> +His first caution was to secure Blake hand and foot, with his back +resting against a frozen snow-hummock a dozen paces from the sledge. +The outlaw accepted the situation with an indifference which seemed to +Philip more forced than philosophical. After that, while Celie was +walking back and forth to produce a warmer circulation in her numbed +body, he hurried to the scrub timber that grew along the shore and +returned with a small armful of dry wood. The fire he built was small, +and concealed as much as possible by the sledge. Ten minutes sufficed +to cook the meat for their supper. Then he stamped out the fire, fed +the dogs, and made a comfortable nest of bear skins for himself and +Celie, facing Blake. The night had thickened until he could make out +only dimly the form of the outlaw against the snow-hummock. His +revolver lay ready at his side. +</P> + +<P> +In that darkness he drew Celie close up into his arms. Her head lay on +his breast. He buried his lips in the smothering sweetness of her hair, +and her arms crept gently about his neck. Even then he did not take his +eyes from Blake, nor for an instant did he cease to listen for other +sounds than the deep breathing of the exhausted dogs. It was only a +little while before the stars began to fill the sky. The gloom lifted +slowly, and out of darkness rose the white world in a cold, shimmering +glory. In that starlight he could see the glisten of Celie's hair as it +covered them like a golden veil, and once or twice through the space +that separated them he caught the flash of a strange fire in the +outlaw's eyes. Both shores were visible. He could have seen the +approach of a man two hundred yards away. +</P> + +<P> +After a little he observed that Blake's head was drooping upon his +chest, and that his breathing had become deeper. His prisoner, he +believed, was asleep. And Celie, nestling on his breast, was soon in +slumber. He alone was awake,—and watching. The dogs, flat on their +bellies, were dead to the world. For an hour he kept his vigil. In that +time he could not see that Blake moved. He heard nothing suspicious. +And the night grew steadily brighter with the white glow of the stars. +He held the revolver in his hand now. The starlight played on it in a +steely glitter that could not fail to catch Blake's eyes should he +awake. +</P> + +<P> +And then Philip found himself fighting—fighting desperately to keep +awake. Again and again his eyes closed, and he forced them open with an +effort. He had planned that they would rest for two or three hours. The +two hours were gone when for the twentieth time his eyes shot open, and +he looked at Blake. The outlaw had not moved. His head hung still lower +on his breast, and again—slowly—irresistibly—exhaustion closed +Philip's eyes. Even then Philip was conscious of fighting against the +overmastering desire to sleep. It seemed to him that he was struggling +for hours, and all that time his subconsciousness was crying out for +him to awake, struggling to rouse him to the nearness of a great +danger. It succeeded at last. His eyes opened, and he stared in a dazed +and half blinded tray toward Blake. His first sensation was one of vast +relief that he had awakened. The stars were brighter. The night was +still. And there, a dozen paces from him was the snow-hummock. +</P> + +<P> +But Blake—Blake— +</P> + +<P> +His heart leapt into his throat. +</P> + +<P> +BLAKE WAS GONE! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<P> +The shock of the discovery that Blake had escaped brought Philip half +to his knees before he thought of Celie. In an instant the girl was +awake. His arm had tightened almost fiercely about her. She caught the +gleam of his revolver, and in another moment she saw the empty space +where their prisoner had been. Swiftly Philip's eyes traveled over the +moonlit spaces about them. Blake had utterly disappeared. Then he saw +the rifle, and breathed easier. For some reason the outlaw had not +taken that, and it was a moment or two before the significance of the +fact broke upon him. Blake must have escaped just as he was making that +last tremendous fight to rouse himself. He had had no more than time to +slink away into the shadows of the night, and had not paused to hazard +a chance of securing the weapon that lay on the snow close to Celie. He +had evidently believed that Philip was only half asleep, and in the +moonlight he must have seen the gleam of the big revolver leveled over +his captor's knee. +</P> + +<P> +Leaving Celie huddled in her furs, Philip rose to his feet and slowly +approached the snow hummock against which he had left his prisoner. The +girl heard the startled exclamation that fell from his lips when he saw +what had happened. Blake had not escaped alone. Running straight out +from behind the hummock was a furrow in the snow like the trail made by +an otter. He had seen such furrows before, where Eskimos had wormed +their way foot by foot within striking distance of dozing seals. +Assistance had come to Blake in that manner, and he could see where—on +their hands and knees—two men instead of one had stolen back through +the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +Celie came to his side now, gripping the rifle in her hands. Her eyes +were wide and filled with frightened inquiry as she looked from the +tell-tale trails in the snow into Philip's face. He was glad that she +could not question him in words. He slipped the Colt into its holster +and took the rifle from her hands. In the emergency which he +anticipated the rifle would be more effective. That something would +happen very soon he was positive. If one Eskimo had succeeded in +getting ahead of his comrades to Blake's relief others of Upi's tribe +must be close behind. And yet he wondered, as he thought of this, why +Blake and the Kogmollock had not killed him instead of running away. +The truth he told frankly to Celie, thankful that she could not +understand. +</P> + +<P> +"It was the gun," he said. "They thought I had only closed my eyes, and +wasn't asleep. If something hadn't kept that gun leveled over my +knee—" He tried to smile, knowing that with every second the end might +come for them from out of the gray mist of moonlight and shadow that +shrouded the shore. "It was a one-man job, sneaking out like that, and +there's sure a bunch of them coming up fast to take a hand in the game. +It's up to us to hit the high spots, my dear—an' you might pray God to +give us time for a start." +</P> + +<P> +If he had hoped to keep from her the full horror of their situation, he +knew, as he placed her on the sledge, that he had failed. Her eyes told +him that. Intuitively she had guessed at the heart of the thing, and +suddenly her arms reached up about his neck as he bent over her and +against his breast he heard the sobbing cry that she was trying hard to +choke back. Under the cloud of her hair her warm, parted lips lay for a +thrilling moment against his own, and then he sprang to the dogs. +</P> + +<P> +They had already roused themselves and at his command began sullenly to +drag their lame and exhausted bodies into trace formation. As the +sledge began to move he sent the long lash of the driving whip curling +viciously over the backs of the pack and the pace increased. Straight +ahead of them ran the white trail of the Coppermine, and they were soon +following this with the eagerness of a team on the homeward stretch. As +Philip ran behind he made a fumbling inventory of the loose rifle +cartridges in the pocket of his coat, and under his breath prayed to +God that the day would come before the Eskimos closed in. Only one +thing did he see ahead of him now—a last tremendous fight for Celie, +and he wanted the light of dawn to give him accuracy. He had thirty +cartridges, and it was possible that he could put up a successful +running fight until they reached Armin's cabin. After that fate would +decide. He was already hatching a scheme in his brain. If he failed to +get Blake early in the fight which he anticipated he would show the +white flag, demand a parley with the outlaw under pretense of +surrendering Celie, and shoot him dead the moment they stood face to +face. With Blake out of the way there might be another way of dealing +with Upi and his Kogmollocks. It was Blake who wanted Celie. In Upi's +eyes there were other things more precious than a woman. The thought +revived in him a new thrill of hope. It recalled to him the incident of +Father Breault and the white woman nurse who, farther west, had been +held for ransom by the Nanamalutes three years ago. Not a hair of the +woman's head had been harmed in nine months of captivity. Olaf Anderson +had told him the whole story. There had been no white man there—only +the Eskimos, and with the Eskimos he believed that he could deal now if +he succeeded in killing Blake. Back at the cabin he could easily have +settled the matter, and he felt like cursing himself for his +shortsightedness. +</P> + +<P> +In spite of the fact that he had missed his main chance he began now to +see more than hope in a situation that five minutes before had been one +of appalling gloom. If he could keep ahead of his enemies until +daybreak he had a ninety percent chance of getting Blake. At some spot +where he could keep the Kogmollocks at bay and scatter death among them +if they attacked he would barricade himself and Celie behind the sledge +and call out his acceptance of Blake's proposition to give up Celie as +the price of his own safety. He would demand an interview with Blake, +and it was then that his opportunity would come. +</P> + +<P> +But ahead of him were the leaden hours of the gray night! Out of that +ghostly mist of pale moonlight through which the dogs were traveling +like sinuous shadows Upi and his tribe could close in on him silently +and swiftly, unseen until they were within striking distance. In that +event all would be lost. He urged the dogs on, calling them by the +names which he had heard Blake use, and occasionally he sent the long +lash of his whip curling over their backs. The surface of the +Coppermine was smooth and hard. Now and then they came to stretches of +glare ice and at these intervals Philip rode behind Celie, staring back +into the white mystery of the night out of which they had come. It was +so still that the click, dick, click of the dogs' claws sounded like +the swift beat of tiny castanets on the ice. He could hear the panting +breath of the beasts. The whalebone runners of the sledge creaked with +the shrill protest of steel traveling over frozen snow. Beyond these +sounds there were no others, with, the exception of his own breath and +the beating of his own heart. Mile after mile of the Coppermine dropped +behind them. The last tree and the last fringe of bushes disappeared, +and to the east, the north, and the west there was no break in the vast +emptiness of the great Arctic plain. Ever afterward the memory of that +night seemed like a grotesque and horrible dream to him. Looking back, +he could remember how the moon sank out of the sky and utter darkness +closed them in and how through that darkness he urged on the tired +dogs, tugging with them at the lead-trace, and stopping now and then in +his own exhaustion to put his arms about Celie and repeat over and over +again that everything was all right. +</P> + +<P> +After an eternity the dawn came. What there was to be of day followed +swiftly, like the Arctic night. The shadows faded away, the shores +loomed up and the illimitable sweep of the plain lifted itself into +vision as if from out of a great sea of receding fog. In the quarter +hour's phenomenon between the last of darkness and wide day Philip +stood straining his eyes southward over the white path of the +Coppermine. It was Celie, huddled close at his side, who turned her +eyes first from the trail their enemies would follow. She faced the +north, and the cry that came from her lips brought Philip about like a +shot. His first sensation was one of amazement that they had not yet +passed beyond the last line of timber. Not more than a third of a mile +distant the river ran into a dark strip of forest that reached in from +the western plain like a great finger. Then he saw what Celie had seen. +Close up against the timber a spiral of smoke was rising into the air. +He made out in another moment the form of a cabin, and the look in +Celie's staring face told him the rest. She was sobbing breathless +words which he could not understand, but he knew that they had won +their race, and that it was Armin's place. And Armin was not dead. He +was alive, as Blake had said—and it was about breakfast time. He had +held up under the tremendous strain of the night until now—and now he +was filled with an uncontrollable desire to laugh. The curious thing +about it was that in spite of this desire no sound came from his +throat. He continued to stare until Celie turned to him and swayed into +his arms. In the moment of their triumph her strength was utterly gone. +And then the thing happened which brought the life back into him again +with a shock. From far up the black finger of timber where it bellied +over the horizon of the plain there floated down to them a chorus of +sound. It was a human sound—the yapping, wolfish cry of an Eskimo +horde closing in on man or beast. They had heard that same cry close on +the heels of the fight in the clearing. Now it was made by many voices +instead of two or three. It was accompanied almost instantly by the +clear, sharp report of a rifle, and a moment later the single shot was +followed by a scattering fusillade. After that there was silence. +</P> + +<P> +Quickly Philip bundled Celie on the sledge and drove the dogs ahead, +his eyes on a wide opening in the timber three or four hundred yards +above the river. Five minutes later the sledge drew up in front of the +cabin. In that time they heard no further outcry or sound of gunfire, +and from the cabin itself there came no sign of life, unless the smoke +meant life. Scarcely had the sledge stopped before Celie was on her +feet and running to the door. It was locked, and she beat against it +excitedly with her little fists, calling a strange name. Standing close +behind her, Philip heard a shuffling movement beyond the log walls, the +scraping of a bar, and a man's voice so deep that it had in it the +booming note of a drum. To it Celie replied with almost a shriek. The +door swung inward, and Philip saw a man's arms open and Celie run into +them. He was an old man. His hair and beard were white. This much +Philip observed before he turned with a sudden, thrill toward the open +in the forest. Only he had heard the cry that had come from that +direction, and now, looking back, he saw a figure running swiftly over +the plain toward the cabin. Instantly he knew that it was a white man. +With his revolver in his hand he advanced to meet him and in a brief +space they stood face to face. +</P> + +<P> +The stranger was a giant of a man. His long, reddish hair fell to his +shoulders. He was bare-headed, and panting as if hard run, and his face +was streaming with blood. His eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets +as he stared at Philip. And Philip, almost dropping his revolver in his +amazement, gasped incredulously: +</P> + +<P> +"My God, is it you—Olaf Anderson!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<P> +Following that first wild stare of uncertainty and disbelief in the big +Swede's eyes came a look of sudden and joyous recognition. He was +clutching at Philip's hand like a drowning man before he made an effort +to speak, still with his eyes on the other's face as if he was not +quite sure they had not betrayed him. Then he grinned. There was only +one man in the world who could grin like Olaf Anderson. In spite of +blood and swollen features it transformed him. Men loved the red-headed +Swede because of that grin. Not a man in the service who knew him but +swore that Olaf would die with the grin on his face, because the +tighter the hole he was in the more surely would the grin be there. It +was the grin that answered Philip's question. +</P> + +<P> +"Just in time—to the dot," said Olaf, still pumping Philip's hand, and +grinning hard. "All dead but me—Calkins, Harris, and that little +Dutchman, O'Flynn, Cold and stiff, Phil, every one of them. I knew an +investigating patrol would be coming up pretty soon. Been looking for +it every day. How many men you got?" +</P> + +<P> +He looked beyond Philip to the cabin and the sledge. The grin slowly +went out of his face, and Philip heard the sudden catch in his breath. +A swift glance revealed the amazing truth to Olaf. He dropped Philip's +hand and stepped back, taking him in suddenly from head to foot. +</P> + +<P> +"Alone!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, alone," nodded Philip. "With the exception of Celie Armin. I +brought her back to her father. A fellow named Blake is back there a +little way with Upi's tribe. We beat them out, but I'm figuring it +won't be long before they show up." +</P> + +<P> +The grin was fixed in Olaf's face again. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord bless us, but it's funny," he grunted. "They're coming on the +next train, so to speak, and right over in that neck of woods is the +other half of Upi's tribe chasing their short legs off to get me. And +the comical part of it is you're ALONE!" His eyes were fixed suddenly +on the revolver. "Ammunition?" he demanded eagerly. "And—grub?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty or forty rounds of rifle, a dozen Colt, and plenty of meat—" +</P> + +<P> +"Then into the cabin, and the dogs with us," almost shouted the Swede. +</P> + +<P> +From the edge of the forest came the report of a rifle and over their +heads went the humming drone of a bullet. +</P> + +<P> +They were back at the cabin in a dozen seconds, tugging at the dogs. It +cost an effort to get them through the door, with the sledge after +them. Half a dozen shots came from the forest. A bullet spattered +against the log wall, found a crevice, and something metallic jingled +inside. As Olaf swung the door shut and dropped the wooden bar in place +Philip turned for a moment toward Celie. She went to him, her eyes +shining in the semi-gloom of the cabin, and put her arms up about his +shoulders. The Swede, looking on, stood transfixed, and the +white-bearded Armin stared incredulously. On her tip-toes Celie kissed +Philip, and then turning with her arms still about him said something +to the older man that brought an audible gasp from Olaf. In another +moment she had slipped away from Philip and back to her father. The +Swede was flattening his face against a two inch crevice between the +logs when Philip went to his side. +</P> + +<P> +"What did she say, Olaf?" he entreated. +</P> + +<P> +"That she's going to marry you if we ever get out of this hell of a fix +we're in," grunted Olaf. "Pretty lucky dog, I say, if it's true. +Imagine Celie Armin marrying a dub like you! But it will never happen. +If you don't believe it fill your eyes with that out there!" +</P> + +<P> +Philip glued his eyes to the long crevice between the logs and found +the forest and the little finger of plain between straight in his +vision. The edge of the timber was alive with men. There must have been +half a hundred of them, and they were making no effort to conceal +themselves. For the first time Olaf began to give him an understanding +of the situation. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the fortieth day we've held them off," he said, in the +quick-cut, business-like voice he might have used in rendering a report +to a superior. "Eighty cartridges to begin with and a month's ration of +grub for two. All but the three last cartridges went day before +yesterday. Yesterday everything quiet. On the edge of starvation this +morning when I went out on scout duty and to take a chance at game. +Surprised a couple of them carrying meat and had a tall fight. Others +hove into action and I had to use two of my cartridges. One left—and +they're showing themselves because they know we don't dare to use +ammunition at long range. My caliber is thirty-five. What's yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"The same," replied Philip quickly, his blood beginning to thrill with +the anticipation of battle. "I'll give you half. I'm on duty from Fort +Churchill, off on a tangent of my own." He did not take his eyes from +the slit in the wall as he told Anderson in a hundred words what had +happened since his meeting with Bram Johnson. "And with forty +cartridges we'll give 'em a taste of hell," he added. +</P> + +<P> +He caught his breath, and the last word half choked itself from his +lips. He knew that Anderson was staring as hard as he. Up from the +river and over the level sweep of plain between it and the timber came +a sledge, followed by a second, a third, and a fourth. In the trail +behind the sledges trotted a score and a half of fur-clad figures. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Blake!" exclaimed Philip. +</P> + +<P> +Anderson drew himself away from the wall. In his eyes burned a curious +greenish flame, and his face was set with the hardness of iron. In that +iron was molded indistinctly the terrible smile with which he always +went into battle or fronted "his man." Slowly he turned, pointing a +long arm at each of the four walls of the cabin. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the lay of the fight," he said, making his words short and to +the point. "They can come at us on all sides, and so I've made a +six-foot gun-crevice in each wall. We can't count on Armin for anything +but the use of a club if it comes to close quarters. The walls are +built of saplings and they've got guns out there that get through. +Outside of that we've got one big advantage. The little devils are +superstitious about fighting at night, and even Blake can't force them +into it. Blake is the man I was after when I ran across Armin and his +people. GAD!" +</P> + +<P> +There was an unpleasant snap in his voice as he peered through the +gun-hole again. Philip looked across the room to Celie and her father +as he divided the cartridges. They were both listening, yet he knew +they did not understand what he and Olaf were saying. He dropped a half +of the cartridges into the right hand pocket of the Swede's service +coat, and advanced then toward Armin with both his hands held out in +greeting. Even in that tense moment he saw the sudden flash of pleasure +in Celie's eyes. Her lips trembled, and she spoke softly and swiftly to +her father, looking at Philip. Armin advanced a step, and their hands +met. At first Philip had taken him for an old man. Hair and beard were +white, his shoulders were bent, his hands were long and thin. But his +eyes, sunken deep in their sockets, had not aged with the rest of him. +They were filled with the piercing scrutiny of a hawk's as they looked +into his own, measuring him in that moment so far as man can measure +man. Then he spoke, and it was the light in Celie's eyes, her parted +lips, and the flush that came swiftly into her face that gave him an +understanding of what Armin was saying. +</P> + +<P> +From the end of the cabin Olaf's voice broke in. With it came the +metallic working of his rifle as he filled the chamber with cartridges. +He spoke first to Celie and Armin in their own language, then to Philip. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a pretty safe gamble we'd better get ready for them," he said. +"They'll soon begin. Did you split even on the cartridges?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seventeen apiece." +</P> + +<P> +Philip examined his rifle, and looked through the gun-crevice toward +the forest. He heard Olaf tugging at the dogs as he tied them to the +bunk posts; he heard Armin say something in a strained voice, and the +Swede's unintelligible reply, followed by a quick, low-voiced +interrogation from Celie. In the same moment his heart gave a sudden +jump. In the fringe of the forest he saw a long, thin line of moving +figures—ADVANCING. He did not call out a warning instantly. For a +space in which he might have taken a long breath or two his eyes and +brain were centered on the moving figures and the significance of their +drawn-out formation. Like a camera-flash his eyes ran over the +battleground. Half way between the cabin and that fringe of forest four +hundred yards away was a "hogback" in the snow, running a curving +parallel with the plain. It formed scarcely more than a three or four +foot rise in the surface, and he had given it no special significance +until now. His lips formed words as the thrill of understanding leapt +upon him. +</P> + +<P> +"They're moving!" he called to Olaf. "They're going to make a rush for +the little ridge between us and the timber. Good God, Anderson, there's +an army of them!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not more'n a hundred," replied the Swede calmly, taking his place at +the gun-crevice. "Take it easy, Phil. This will be good target +practice. We've got to make an eighty percent kill as they come across +the open. This is mighty comfortable compared with the trick they +turned on us when they got Calkins, Harris and O'Flynn. I got away in +the night." +</P> + +<P> +The moving line had paused just within the last straggling growth of +trees, as if inviting the fire of the defenders. +</P> + +<P> +Olaf grunted as he looked along the barrel of his rifle. +</P> + +<P> +"Strategy," he mumbled. "They know we're shy of ammunition." +</P> + +<P> +In the moments of tense waiting Philip found his first opportunity to +question the man at his side. First, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I guess mebby you understand, Olaf. We've gone through a hell +together, and I love her. If we get out of this she's going to be my +wife. She's promised me that, and yet I swear to Heaven I don't know +more than a dozen words of her language. What has happened? Who is she? +Why was she with Bram Johnson? You know their language, and have been +with them—" +</P> + +<P> +"They're taking final orders," interrupted Olaf, as if he had not +heard. "There's something more on foot than a rush to the ridge. It's +Blake's scheming. See those little groups forming? They're going to +bring battering-rams, and make a second rush from the ridge." He drew +in a deep breath, and without a change in the even tone of his voice, +went on: "Calkins, Harris and O'Flynn went down in a good fight. Tell +you about that later. Hit seven days' west, and run on the camp of +Armin, his girl, and two white men—Russians—guided by two Kogmollocks +from Coronation Gulf. You can guess some of the rest. The little devils +had Blake and his gang about us two days after I struck them. Bram +Johnson and his wolves came along then—from nowhere—going nowhere. +The Kogmollocks think Bram is a great Devil, and that each of his +wolves is a Devil. If it hadn't been for that they would have murdered +us in a hurry, and Blake would have taken the girl. They were queered +by the way Bram would squat on his haunches, and stare at her. The +second day I saw him mumbling over something, and looked sharp. He had +one of Celie's long hairs, and when he saw me he snarled like an +animal, as though he feared I would take it from him. I knew what was +coming. I knew Blake was only waiting for Bram to get away from his +Kogmollocks—so I told Celie to give Bram a strand of her hair. She +did—with her own hands, and from that minute the madman watched her +like a dog. I tried to talk with him, but couldn't. I didn't seem to be +able to make him understand. And then—" +</P> + +<P> +The Swede cut himself short. +</P> + +<P> +"They're moving, Phil! Take the men with the battering rams—and let +them get half way before you fire! ... You see, Bram and his wolves had +to have meat. Blake attacked while he was gone. Russians killed—Armin +and I cornered, fighting for the girl behind us, when Bram came back +like a burst of thunder. He didn't fight. He grabbed the girl, and was +off with her like the wind with his wolf-team. Armin and I got into +this cabin, and here—forty days and nights—" +</P> + +<P> +His voice stopped ominously. A fraction of a second later it was +followed by the roar of his rifle, and at the first shot one of Blake's +Kogmollocks crumpled up with a grunt half way between the snow-ridge +and the forest. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<P> +The Eskimos were advancing at a trot now over the open space. Philip +was amazed at their number. There were at least a hundred, and his +heart choked with a feeling of despair even as he pulled the trigger +for his first shot. He had seen the effect of Olaf's shot, and +following the Swede's instructions aimed for his man in the nearest +group behind the main line. He did not instantly see the result, as a +puff of smoke shut out his vision, but a moment later, aiming again, he +saw a dark blotch left in the snow. From his end of the crevice Olaf +had seen the man go down, and he grunted his approbation. There were +five of the groups bearing tree trunks for battering-rams, and on one +of these Philip concentrated the six shots in his rifle. Four of the +tree-bearers went down, and the two that were left dropped their burden +and joined those ahead of them. Until Philip stepped back to reload his +gun he had not noticed Celie. She was close at his side, peering +through the gun-hole at the tragedy out on the plain. Once before he +had been astounded by the look in her face when they had been +confronted by great danger, and as his fingers worked swiftly in +refilling the magazine of his rifle he saw it there again. It was not +fear, even now. It was a more wonderful thing than that. Her wide-open +eyes glowed with a strange, dark luster; in the center of each of her +cheeks was a vivid spot of color, and her lips were parted slightly, so +that he caught the faintest gleam of her teeth. Wonderful as a fragile +flower she stood there with her eyes upon him, her splendid courage and +her faith in him flaming within her like a fire. +</P> + +<P> +And then he heard Anderson's voice: +</P> + +<P> +"They're behind the ridge. We got eight of them." +</P> + +<P> +In half a dozen places Philip had seen where bullets had bored the way +through the cabin, and leaning his gun against the wall, he sprang to +Celie and almost carried her behind the bunk that was built against the +logs. +</P> + +<P> +"You must stay here," he cried. "Do you understand! HERE!" +</P> + +<P> +She nodded, and smiled. It was a wonderful smile—a flash of tenderness +telling him that she knew what he was saying, and that she would obey +him. She made no effort to detain him with her hands, but in that +moment—if life had been the forfeit—Philip would have stolen the +precious time in which to take her in his arms. For a space he held her +close to him, his lips crushed to hers, and faced the wall again with +the throb of her soft breast still beating against his heart. He +noticed Armin standing near the door, his hand resting on a huge club +which, in turn, rested on the floor. Calmly he was waiting for the +final rush. Olaf was peering through the gun-hole again. And then came +what he had expected—a rattle of fire from the snow-ridge. The +PIT-PIT-PIT of bullets rained against the cabin in a dull tattoo. +Through the door came a bullet, sending a splinter close to Armin's +face. Almost in the same instant a second followed it, and a third came +through the crevice so close to Philip that he felt the hissing breath +of it in his face. One of the dogs emitted a wailing howl and flopped +among its comrades in uncanny convulsions. +</P> + +<P> +Olaf staggered back, and faced Philip. There was no trace of the +fighting grin in his face now. It was set like an iron mask. +</P> + +<P> +"GET DOWN!" he shouted. "Do you hear, GET DOWN!" He dropped on his +knees, crying out the warning to Armin in the other's language. +"They've got enough guns to make a sieve of this kennel if their +ammunition holds out—and the lower logs are heaviest. Flatten yourself +out until they stop firing, with your feet toward 'em, like this," and +he stretched himself out on the floor, parallel with the direction of +fire. +</P> + +<P> +In place of following the Swede's example Philip ran to Celie. Half way +a bullet almost got him, flipping the collar of his shirt. He dropped +beside her and gathered her up completely in his arms, with his own +body between her and the fire. A moment later he thanked God for the +protection of the bunk. He heard the ripping of a bullet through the +saplings and caught distinctly the thud of it as the spent lead dropped +to the floor. Celie's head was close on his breast, her eyes were on +his face, her soft lips so near he could feel their breath. He kissed +her, unbelieving even then that the end was near for her. It was +monstrous—impossible. Lead was finding its way into the cabin like +raindrops. He heard the Swede's voice again, crying thickly from the +floor: +</P> + +<P> +"Hug below the lower log. You've got eight inches. If you rise above +that they'll get you." He repeated the warning to Armin. +</P> + +<P> +As if to emphasize his words there came a howl of agony from another of +the dogs. +</P> + +<P> +Still closer Philip held the girl to him. Her hands had crept +convulsively to his neck. He crushed his face down against hers, and +waited. It came to him suddenly that Blake must be reckoning on this +very protection which he was giving Celie. He was gambling on the +chance that while the male defenders of the cabin would be wounded or +killed Celie would be sheltered until the last moment from their fire. +If that was so, the firing would soon cease until Blake learned results. +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely had he made this guess when the fusillade ended. Instead of +rifle-fire there came a sudden strange howl of voices and Olaf sprang +to his feet. Philip had risen, when the Swede's voice came to him in a +choking cry. Prepared for the rush he had expected, Olaf was making an +observation through the gun-crevice. Suddenly, without turning his +head, he yelled back at them: +</P> + +<P> +"Good God—it's Bram—Bram Johnson!" +</P> + +<P> +Even Celie realized the thrilling import of the Swede's excited words. +BRAM JOHNSON! She was only a step behind Philip when he reached the +wall. With him she looked out. Out of that finger of forest they were +coming—Bram and his wolves! The pack was free, spreading out +fan-shape, coming like the wind! Behind them was Bram—a wild and +monstrous figure against the whiteness of the plain, bearing in his +hand a giant club. His yell came to them. It rose above all other +sound, like the cry of a great beast. The wolves came faster, and then— +</P> + +<P> +The truth fell upon those in the cabin with a suddenness that stopped +the beating of their hearts. +</P> + +<P> +Bram Johnson and his wolves were attacking the Eskimos! +</P> + +<P> +From the thrilling spectacle of the giant mad-man charging over the +plain behind his ravenous beasts Philip shifted his amazed gaze to the +Eskimos. They were no longer concealing themselves. Palsied by a +strange terror, they were staring at the onrushing horde and the +shrieking wolf-man. In those first appalling moments of horror and +stupefaction not a gun was raised or a shot fired. Then there rose from +the ranks of the Kogmollocks a strange and terrible cry, and in another +moment the plain between the forest and the snow-ridge was alive with +fleeing creatures in whose heavy brains surged the monstrous thought +that they were attacked not by man and beast, but by devils. And in +that same moment it seemed that Bram Johnson and his wolves were among +them. From man to man the beasts leapt, driven on by the shrieking +voice of their master; and now Philip saw the giant mad-man overtake +one after another of the running figures, and saw the crushing force of +his club as it fell. Celie swayed back from the wall and stood with her +hands to her face. The Swede sprang past her, flung back the bar to the +door, and opened it. Philip was a step behind him. Prom the front of +the cabin they began firing, and man after man crumpled down under +their shots. If Bram and his wolves sensed the shooting in the ferocity +of their blood-lust they paid no more attention to it than to the cries +for mercy that rose chokingly out of the throats of their enemies. In +another sixty seconds the visible part of it was over. The last of the +Kogmollocks disappeared into the edge of the forest. After them went +the wolf-man and his pack. +</P> + +<P> +Philip faced his companion. His gun was hot—and empty. The old grin +was in Olaf's face. In spite of it he shuddered. +</P> + +<P> +"We won't follow," he said. "Bram and his wolves will attend to the +trimmings, and he'll come back when the job is finished. Meanwhile +we'll get a little start for home, eh? I'm tired of this cabin. Forty +days and nights—UGH! it was HELL. Have you a spare pipeful of tobacco, +Phil? If you have—let's see, where did I leave off in that story about +Princess Celie and the Duke of Rugni?" +</P> + +<P> +"The—the—WHAT?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your tobaeco, Phil!" +</P> + +<P> +In a dazed fashion Philip handed his tobacco pouch to the Swede. +</P> + +<P> +"You said—Princess Celie—the Duke of Rugni—" +</P> + +<P> +Olaf nodded as he stuffed his pipe bowl. +</P> + +<P> +"That's it. Armin is the Duke of Rugni, whatever Rugni is. He was +chased off to Siberia a good many years ago, when Celie was a kid, that +somebody else could get hold of the Dukedom. Understand? Millions in +it, I suppose. He says some of Rasputin's old friends were behind it, +and that for a long time he was kept in the dungeons of the fortress of +St. Peter and St. Paul, with the Neva River running over his head. The +friends he had, most of them in exile or chased out of the country, +thought he was dead, and some of these friends were caring for Celie. +Just after Rasputin was killed, and before the Revolution broke out, +they learned Armin was alive and dying by inches somewhere up on the +Siberian coast. Celie's mother was Danish—died almost before Celie +could remember; but some of her relatives and a bunch of Russian exiles +in London framed up a scheme to get Armin back, chartered a ship, +sailed with Celie on board, and—" +</P> + +<P> +Olaf paused to light his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"And they found the Duke," he added. "They escaped with him before they +learned of the Revolution, or Armin could have gone home with the rest +of the Siberian exiles and claimed his rights. For a lot of reasons +they put him aboard an American whaler, and the whaler missed its plans +by getting stuck in the ice for the winter up in Coronation Gulf. After +that they started out with dogs and sledge and guides. There's a lot +more, but that's the meat of it, Phil. I'm going to leave it to you to +learn Celie's language and get the details first-hand from her. But +she's a right enough princess, old man. And her Dad's a duke. It's up +to you to Americanize 'em. Eh, what's that?" +</P> + +<P> +Celie had come from the cabin and was standing at Philip's side, +looking up into his face, and the light which Olaf saw unhidden in her +eyes made him laugh softly: +</P> + +<P> +"And you've got the job half done, Phil. The Duke may go back and raise +the devil with the people who put him in cold storage, but Lady Celie +is going to like America. Yessir, she's going to like it better'n any +other place on the face of the earth!" +</P> + +<P> +It was late that afternoon, traveling slowly southward over the trail +of the Coppermine, when they heard far behind them the wailing cry of +Bram Johnson's wolves. The sound came only once, like the swelling +surge of a sudden sweep of wind, yet when they camped at the beginning +of darkness Philip was confident the madman and his pack were close +behind them. Utter exhaustion blotted out the hours for Celie and +himself, while Olaf, buried in two heavy Eskimo coats he had foraged +from the field of battle, sat on guard through the night. Twice in the +stillness of his long vigil he heard strange cries. Once it was the cry +of a beast. The second time it was that of a man. +</P> + +<P> +The second day, with dogs refreshed, they traveled faster, and it was +this night that they camped in the edge of timber and built a huge +fire. It was such a fire as illumined the space about them for fifty +paces or more, and it was into this light that Bram Johnson stalked, so +suddenly and so noiselessly that a sharp little cry sprang from Celie's +lips, and Olaf and Philip and the Duke of Rugni stared in wide-eyed +amazement. In his right hand the wolf-man bore a strange object. It was +an Eskimo coat, tied into the form of a bag, and in the bottom of this +improvision was a lump half the size of a water pail. Bram seemed +oblivious of all presence but that of Celie. His eyes were on her alone +as he advanced and with a weird sound in his throat deposited the +bundle at her feet. In another moment he was gone. The Swede rose +slowly from where he was sitting, and speaking casually to Celie, took +the wolf-man's gift up in his hands. Philip observed the strange look +in his face as he turned his back to Celie in the firelight and opened +the bag sufficiently to get a look inside. Then he walked out into the +darkness, and a moment later returned without the bundle, and with a +laugh apologized to Celie for his action. +</P> + +<P> +"No need of telling her what it was," he said to Philip then. "I +explained that it was foul meat Bram had brought in as a present. As a +matter of fact it was Blake's head. You know the Kogmollocks have a +pretty habit of pleasing a friend by presenting him with the head of a +dead enemy. Nice little package for her to have opened, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +After all, there are some very strange happenings in life, and the +adventurers of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police come upon their +share. The case of Bram Johnson, the mad wolf-man of the Upper Country, +happened to be one of them, and filed away in the archives of the +Department is a big envelope filled with official and personal +documents, signed and sworn to by various people. There is, for +instance, the brief and straightforward deposition of Corporal Olaf +Anderson, of the Fort Churchill Division, and there is the longer and +more detailed testimony of Mr. and Mrs. Philip Raine and the Duke of +Rugni; and attached to these depositions is a copy of an official +decision pardoning Bram Johnson and making of him a ward of the great +Dominion instead of a criminal. He is no longer hunted. "Let Bram +Johnson alone" is the word that had gone forth to the man-hunters of +the Service. It is a wise and human judgment. Bram's country is big and +wild. And he and his wolves still hunt there under the light of the +moon and the stars. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Golden Snare, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SNARE *** + +***** This file should be named 4515-h.htm or 4515-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/1/4515/ + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Golden Snare + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Posting Date: August 11, 2009 [EBook #4515] +Release Date: October, 2003 +First Posted: January 29, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SNARE *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + + +BY + +JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + + + +AUTHOR OF KAZAN, THE DANGER TRAIL, THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE, THE +GRIZZLY KING, ETC. + + +JTABLE 10 26 1 + + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Bram Johnson was an unusual man, even for the northland. He was, above +all other things, a creature of environment--and necessity, and of that +something else which made of him at times a man with a soul, and at +others a brute with the heart of a devil. In this story of Bram, and +the girl, and the other man, Bram himself should not be blamed too +much. He was pathetic, and yet he was terrible. It is doubtful if he +really had what is generally regarded as a soul. If he did, it was +hidden--hidden to the forests and the wild things that had made him. + +Bram's story started long before he was born, at least three +generations before. That was before the Johnsons had gone north of +Sixty. But they were wandering, and steadily upward. If one puts a +canoe in the Lower Athabasca and travels northward to the Great Slave +and thence up the Mackenzie to the Arctic he will note a number of +remarkable ethnological changes. The racial characteristics of the +world he is entering change swiftly. The thin-faced Chippewa with his +alert movements and high-bowed canoe turns into the slower moving Cree, +with his broader cheeks, his more slanting eyes, and his racier +birchbark. And even the Cree changes as he lives farther north; each +new tribe is a little different from its southernmost neighbor, until +at last the Cree looks like a Jap, and the Chippewyan takes his place. +And the Chippewyan takes up the story of life where the Cree left off. +Nearer the Arctic his canoe becomes a skin kaiak, his face is still +broader, Ms eyes like a Chinaman's, and writers of human history call +him Eskimo. + +The Johnsons, once they started, did not stop at any particular point. +There was probably only one Johnson in the beginning of that hundred +year story which was to have its finality in Bram. But there were more +in time. The Johnson blood mixed itself first with the Chippewa, and +then with the Cree--and the Cree-Chippewa Johnson blood, when at last +it reached the Eskimo, had in it also a strain of Chippewyan. It is +curious how the name itself lived. Johnson! One entered a tepee or a +cabin expecting to find there a white man, and was startled when he +discovered the truth. + +Bram, after nearly a century of this intermixing of bloods, was a +throwback--a white man, so far as his skin and his hair and his eyes +went. In other physical ways he held to the type of his half-strain +Eskimo mother, except in size. He was six feet, and a giant in +strength. His face was broad, his cheek-bones high, his lips thick, his +nose flat. And he was WHITE. That was the shocking thing about it all. +Even his hair was a reddish blonde, wild and coarse and ragged like a +lion's mane, and his eyes were sometimes of a curious blue, and at +others--when he was angered--green like a cat's at night-time. + +No man knew Bram for a friend. He was a mystery. He never remained at a +post longer than was necessary to exchange his furs for supplies, and +it might be months or even years before he returned to that particular +post again. He was ceaselessly wandering. More or less the Royal +Northwest Mounted Police kept track of him, and in many reports of +faraway patrols filed at Headquarters there are the laconic words, "We +saw Bram and his wolves traveling northward" or "Bram and his wolves +passed us"--always Bram AND HIS WOLVES. For two years the Police lost +track of him. That was when Bram was buried in the heart of the Sulphur +Country east of the Great Bear. After that the Police kept an even +closer watch on him, waiting, and expecting something to happen. And +then--the something came. Bram killed a man. He did it so neatly and so +easily, breaking him as he might have broken a stick, that he was well +off in flight before it was discovered that his victim was dead. The +next tragedy followed quickly--a fortnight later, when Corporal Lee and +a private from the Fort Churchill barracks closed in on him out on the +edge of the Barren. Bram didn't fire a shot. They could hear his great, +strange laugh when they were still a quarter of a mile away from him. +Bram merely set loose his wolves. By a miracle Corporal Lee lived to +drag himself to a half-breed's cabin, where he died a little later, and +the half-breed brought the story to Fort Churchill. + +After this, Bram disappeared from the eyes of the world. What he lived +in those four or five years that followed would well be worth his +pardon if his experiences could be made to appear between the covers of +a book. Bram--AND HIS WOLVES! Think of it. Alone. In all that time +without a voice to talk to him. Not once appearing at a post for food. +A loup-garou. An animal-man. A companion of wolves. By the end of the +third year there was not a drop of dog-blood in his pack. It was wolf, +all wolf. From whelps he brought the wolves up, until he had twenty in +his pack. They were monsters, for the under-grown ones he killed. +Perhaps he would have given them freedom in place of death, but these +wolf-beasts of Bram's would not accept freedom. In him they recognized +instinctively the super-beast, and they were his slaves. And Bram, +monstrous and half animal himself, loved them. To him they were +brother, sister, wife--all creation. He slept with them, and ate with +them, and starved with them when food was scarce. They were comradeship +and protection. When Bram wanted meat, and there was meat in the +country, he would set his wolf-horde on the trail of a caribou or a +moose, and if they drove half a dozen miles ahead of Bram himself there +would always be plenty of meat left on the bones when he arrived. Four +years of that! The Police would not believe it. They laughed at the +occasional rumors that drifted in from the far places; rumors that Bram +had been seen, and that his great voice had been heard rising above the +howl of his pack on still winter nights, and that half-breeds and +Indians had come upon his trails, here and there--at widely divergent +places. It was the French half-breed superstition of the chasse-galere +that chiefly made them disbelieve, and the chasse-galere is a thing not +to be laughed at in the northland. It is composed of creatures who have +sold their souls to the devil for the power of navigating the air, and +there were those who swore with their hands on the crucifix of the +Virgin that they had with their own eyes seen Bram and his wolves +pursuing the shadowy forms of great beasts through the skies. + +So the Police believed that Bram was dead; and Bram, meanwhile, keeping +himself from all human eyes, was becoming more and more each day like +the wolves who were his brothers. But the white blood in a man dies +hard, and always there flickered in the heart of Bram's huge chest a +great yearning. It must at times have been worse than death--that +yearning to hear a human voice, to have a human creature to speak to, +though never had he loved man or woman. Which brings us at last to the +final tremendous climax in Bram's life--to the girl, and the other man. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +The other man was Raine--Philip Raine. + +To-night he sat in Pierre Breault's cabin, with Pierre at the opposite +side of the table between them, and the cabin's sheet iron stove +blazing red just beyond. It was a terrible night outside. Pierre, the +fox hunter, had built his shack at the end of a long slim forefinger of +scrub spruce that reached out into the Barren, and to-night the wind +was wailing and moaning over the open spaces in a way that made Raine +shiver. Close to the east was Hudson's Bay--so close that a few moments +before when Raine had opened the cabin door there came to him the low, +never-ceasing thunder of the under-currents fighting their way down +through the Roes Welcome from the Arctic Ocean, broken now and then by +a growling roar as the giant forces sent a crack, like a great knife, +through one of the frozen mountains. Westward from Pierre's cabin there +stretched the lifeless Barren, illimitable and void, without rock or +bush, and overhung at day by a sky that always made Raine think of a +terrible picture he had once seen of Dore's "Inferno"--a low, thick +sky, like purple and blue granite, always threatening to pitch itself +down in terrific avalanches. And at night, when the white foxes yapped, +and the wind moaned-- + +"As I have hope of paradise I swear that I saw him--alive, M'sieu," +Pierre was saying again over the table. + +Raine, of the Fort Churchill patrol of the Royal Northwest Mounted +Police, no longer smiled in disbelief. He knew that Pierre Breault was +a brave man, or he would not have perched himself alone out in the +heart of the Barren to catch the white foxes; and he was not +superstitious, like most of his kind, or the sobbing cries and strife +of the everlasting night-winds would have driven him away. + +"I swear it!" repeated Pierre. + +Something that was almost eagerness was burning now in Philip's face. +He leaned over the table, his hands gripping tightly. He was +thirty-five; almost slim as Pierre himself, with eyes as steely blue as +Pierre's were black. There was a time, away back, when he wore a dress +suit as no other man in the big western city where he lived; now the +sleeves of his caribou skin coat were frayed and torn, his hands were +knotted, in his face were the lines of storm and wind. + +"It is impossible," he said. "Bram Johnson is dead!" + +"He is alive, M'sieu." + +In Pierre's voice there was a strange tremble. + +"If I had only HEARD, if I had not SEEN, you might disbelieve, M'sieu," +he cried, his eyes glowing with a dark fire. "Yes, I heard the cry of +the pack first, and I went to the door, and opened it, and stood there +listening and looking out into the night. UGH! they went near. I could +hear the hoofs of the caribou. And then I heard a great cry, a voice +that rose above the howl of the wolves like the voice of ten men, and I +knew that Bram Johnson was on the trail of meat. MON DIEU--yes--he is +alive. And that is not all. No. No. That is not all--" + +His fingers were twitching. For the third or fourth time in the last +three-quarters of an hour Raine saw him fighting back a strange +excitement. His own incredulity was gone. He was beginning to believe +Pierre. + +"And after that--you saw him?" + +"Yes. I would not do again what I did then for all the foxes between +the Athabasca and the Bay, M'sieu. It must have been--I don't know +what. It dragged me out into the night. I followed. I found the trail +of the wolves, and I found the snowshoe tracks of a man. Oui. I still +followed. I came close to the kill, with the wind in my face, and I +could hear the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh--yes--yes--AND +A MAN'S TERRIBLE LAUGH! If the wind had shifted--if that pack of +devils' souls had caught the smell of me--tonnerre de dieu!" He +shuddered, and the knuckles of his fingers snapped as he clenched and +unclenched his hands. "But I stayed there, M'sieu, half buried in a +snow dune. They went on after a long time. It was so dark I could not +see them. I went to the kill then, and--yes, he had carried away the +two hind quarters of the caribou. It was a bull, too, and heavy. I +followed--clean across that strip of Barren down to the timber, and it +was there that Bram built himself the fire. I could see him then, and I +swear by the Blessed Virgin that it was Bram! Long ago, before he +killed the man, he came twice to my cabin--and he had not changed. And +around him, in the fire-glow, the wolves huddled. It was then that I +came to my reason. I could see him fondling them. I could see their +gleaming fangs. Yes, I could HEAR their bodies, and he was talking to +them and laughing with them through his great beard--and I turned and +fled back to the cabin, running so swiftly that even the wolves would +have had trouble in catching me. And that--that--WAS NOT ALL!" + +Again his fingers were clenching and unclenching as he stared at Raine. + +"You believe me, M'sieu?" + +Philip nodded. + +"It seems impossible. And yet--you could not have been dreaming, +Pierre." + +Breault drew a deep breath of satisfaction, and half rose to his feet. + +"And you will believe me if I tell you the rest?" + +"Yes." + +Swiftly Pierre went to his bunk and returned with the caribou skin +pouch in which he carried his flint and steel and fire material for the +trail. + +"The next day I went back, M'sieu," he said, seating himself again +opposite Philip. "Bram and his wolves were gone. He had slept in a +shelter of spruce boughs. And--and--par les mille cornes du diable if +he had even brushed the snow out! His great moccasin tracks were all +about among the tracks of the wolves, and they were big as the spoor of +a monster bear. I searched everywhere for something that he might have +left, and I found--at last--a rabbit snare." + +Pierre Breault's eyes, and not his words--and the curious twisting and +interlocking of his long slim fingers about the caribou-skin bag in his +hand stirred Philip with the thrill of a tense and mysterious +anticipation, and as he waited, uttering no word, Pierre's fingers +opened the sack, and he said: + +"A rabbit snare, M'sieu, which had dropped from his pocket into the +snow--" + +In another moment he had given it into Philip's hands. The oil lamp was +hung straight above them. Its light flooded the table between them, and +from Philip's lips, as he stared at the snare, there broke a gasp of +amazement. Pierre had expected that cry. He had at first been +disbelieved; now his face burned with triumph. It seemed, for a space, +as if Philip had ceased breathing. He stared--stared--while the light +from above him scintillated on the thing he held. It was a snare. There +could be no doubt of that. It was almost a yard in length, with the +curious Chippewyan loop at one end and the double-knot at the other. + +The amazing thing about it was that it was made of a woman's golden +hair. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The process of mental induction occasionally does not pause to reason +its way, but leaps to an immediate and startling finality, which, by +reason of its very suddenness, is for a space like the shock of a +sudden blow. After that one gasp of amazement Philip made no sound. He +spoke no word to Pierre. In a sudden lull of the wind sweeping over the +cabin the ticking of his watch was like the beating of a tiny drum. +Then, slowly, his eyes rose from the silken thread in his fingers and +met Pierre's. Each knew what the other was thinking. If the hair had +been black. If it had been brown. Even had it been of the coarse red of +the blond Eskimo of the upper Mackenzie! But it was gold--shimmering +gold. + +Still without speaking, Philip drew a knife from his pocket and cut the +shining thread above the second knot, and worked at the finely wrought +weaving of the silken filaments until a tress of hair, crinkled and +waving, lay on the table before them. If he had possessed a doubt, it +was gone now. He could not remember where he had ever seen just that +colored gold in a woman's hair. Probably he had, at one time or +another. It was not red gold. It possessed no coppery shades and lights +as it rippled there in the lamp glow. It was flaxen, and like spun +silk--so fine that, as he looked at it, he marveled at the patience +that had woven it into a snare. Again he looked at Pierre. The same +question was in their eyes. + +"It must be--that Bram has a woman with him," said Pierre. + +"It must be," said Philip. "Or--" + +That final word, its voiceless significance, the inflection which +Philip gave to it as he gazed at Pierre, stood for the one tremendous +question which, for a space, possessed the mind of each. Pierre +shrugged his shoulders. He could not answer it. And as he shrugged his +shoulders he shivered, and at a sudden blast of the wind against the +cabin door he turned quickly, as though he thought the blow might have +been struck by a human hand. + +"Diable!" he cried, recovering himself, his white teeth flashing a +smile at Philip. "It has made me nervous--what I saw there in the light +of the campfire, M'sieu. Bram, and his wolves, and THAT!" + +He nodded at the shimmering strands. + +"You have never seen hair the color of this, Pierre?" + +"Non. In all my life--not once." + +"And yet you have seen white women at Fort Churchill, at York Factory, +at Lac la Biche, at Cumberland House, and Norway House, and at Fort +Albany?" + +"Ah-h-h, and at many other places, M'sieu. At God's Lake, at Lac Seul, +and over on the Mackenzie--and never have I seen hair on a woman like +that." + +"And Bram has never been out of the northland, never farther south than +Fort Chippewyan that we know of," said Philip. "It makes one shiver, +eh, Pierre? It makes one think of--WHAT? Can't you answer? Isn't it in +your mind?" + +French and Cree were mixed half and half in Pierre's blood. The pupils +of his eyes dilated as he met Philip's steady gaze. + +"It makes one think," he replied uneasily, "of the chasse-galere and +the loup-garou, and--and--almost makes one believe. I am not +superstitious, M'sieu--non--non--I am not superstitious," he cried +still more uneasily. "But many strange things are told about Bram and +his wolves;--that he has sold his soul to the devil, and can travel +through the air, and that he can change himself into the form of a wolf +at will. There are those who have heard him singing the Chanson de +Voyageur to the howling of his wolves away up in the sky. I have seen +them, and talked with them, and over on the McLeod I saw a whole tribe +making incantation because they had seen Bram and his wolves building +themselves a conjuror's house in the heart of a thunder-cloud. So--is +it strange that he should snare rabbits with, a woman's hair?" + +"And change black into the color of the sun?" added Philip, falling +purposely into the other's humor. + +"If the rest is true--" + +Pierre did not finish. He caught himself, swallowing hard, as though a +lump had risen in his throat, and for a moment or two Philip saw him +fighting with himself, struggling with the age-old superstitions which +had flared up for an instant like a powder-flash. His jaws tightened, +and he threw back his head. + +"But those stories are NOT true, M'sieu," he added in a repressed +voice. "That is why I showed you the snare. Bram Johnson is not dead. +He is alive. And there is a woman with him, or--" + +"Or--" + +The same thought was in their eyes again. And again neither gave voice +to it. Carefully Philip was gathering up the strands of hair, winding +them about his forefinger, and placing them afterward in a leather +wallet which he took from his pocket. Then, quite casually, he loaded +his pipe and lighted it. He went to the door, opened it, and for a few +moments stood listening to the screech of the wind over the Barren. +Pierre, still seated at the table, watched him attentively. Philip's +mind was made up when he closed the door and faced the half-breed again. + +"It is three hundred miles from here to Fort Churchill," he said. "Half +way, at the lower end of Jesuche Lake, MacVeigh and his patrol have +made their headquarters. If I go after Bram, Pierre, I must first make +certain of getting a message to MacVeigh, and he will see that it gets +to Fort Churchill. Can you leave your foxes and poison-baits and your +deadfalls long enough for that?" + +A moment Pierre hesitated. + +Then he said: + +"I will take the message." + +Until late that night Philip sat up writing his report. He had started +out to run down a band of Indian thieves. More important business had +crossed his trail, and he explained the whole matter to Superintendent +Fitzgerald, commanding "M" Division at Fort Churchill. He told Pierre +Breault's story as he had heard it. He gave his reasons for believing +it, and that Bram Johnson, three times a murderer, was alive. He asked +that another man be sent after the Indians, and explained, as nearly as +he could, the direction he would take in his pursuit of Bram. + +When the report was finished and sealed he had omitted just one thing. + +Not a word had he written about the rabbit snare woven from a woman's +hair. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +The next morning the tail of the storm was still sweeping bitterly over +the edge of the Barren, but Philip set out, with Pierre Breault as his +guide, for the place where the half-breed had seen Bram Johnson and his +wolves in camp. Three days had passed since that exciting night, and +when they arrived at the spot where Bram had slept the spruce shelter +was half buried in a windrow of the hard, shot like snow that the +blizzard had rolled in off the open spaces. + +From this point Pierre marked off accurately the direction Bram had +taken the morning after the hunt, and Philip drew the point of his +compass to the now invisible trail. Almost instantly he drew his +conclusion. + +"Bram is keeping to the scrub timber along the edge of the Barren," he +said to Pierre. "That is where I shall follow. You might add that much +to what I have written to MacVeigh. But about the snare, Pierre +Breault, say not a word. Do you understand? If he is a loup-garou man, +and weaves golden hairs out of the winds--" + +"I will say nothing, M'sieu," shuddered Pierre. + +They shook hands, and parted in silence. Philip set his face to the +west, and a few moments later, looking back, he could no longer see +Pierre. For an hour after that he was oppressed by the feeling that he +was voluntarily taking a desperate chance. For reasons which he had +arrived at during the night he had left his dogs and sledge with +Pierre, and was traveling light. In his forty-pound pack, fitted snugly +to his shoulders, were a three pound silk service-tent that was +impervious to the fiercest wind, and an equal weight of cooking +utensils. The rest of his burden, outside of his rifle, his Colt's +revolver and his ammunition, was made up of rations, so much of which +was scientifically compressed into dehydrated and powder form that he +carried on his back, in a matter of thirty pounds, food sufficient for +a month if he provided his meat on the trail. The chief article in this +provision was fifteen pounds of flour; four dozen eggs he carried in +one pound of egg powder; twenty-eight pounds of potatoes in four pounds +of the dehydrated article; four pounds of onions in a quarter of a +pound of the concentration, and so on through the list. + +He laughed a little grimly as he thought of this concentrated +efficiency in the pack on his shoulders. In a curious sort of way it +reminded him of other days, and he wondered what some of his old-time +friends would say if he could, by some magic endowment, assemble them +here for a feast on the trail. He wondered especially what Mignon +Davenport would say--and do. P-f-f-f! He could see the blue-blooded +horror in her aristocratic face! That wind from over the Barren would +curdle the life in her veins. She would shrivel up and die. He +considered himself a fairly good judge in the matter, for once upon a +time he thought that he was going to marry her. Strange why he should +think of her now, he told himself; but for all that he could not get +rid of her for a time. And thinking of her, his mind traveled back into +the old days, even as he followed over the hidden trail of Bram. +Undoubtedly a great many of his old friends had forgotten him. Five +years was a long time, and friendship in the set to which he belonged +was not famous for its longevity. Nor love, for that matter. Mignon had +convinced him of that. He grimaced, and in the teeth of the wind he +chuckled. Fate was a playful old chap. It was a good joke he had played +on him--first a bit of pneumonia, then a set of bad lungs afflicted +with that "galloping" something-or-other that hollows one's cheeks and +takes the blood out of one's veins. It was then that the horror had +grown larger and larger each day in Mignon's big baby-blue eyes, until +she came out with childish frankness and said that it was terribly +embarrassing to have one's friends know that one was engaged to a +consumptive. + +Philip laughed as he thought of that. The laugh came so suddenly and so +explosively that Bram could have heard it a hundred yards away, even +with the wind blowing as it was. A consumptive! Philip doubled up his +arm until the hard muscles in it snapped. He drew in a deep lungful of +air, and forced it out again with a sound like steam escaping from a +valve. The NORTH had done that for him; the north with its wonderful +forests, its vast skies, its rivers, and its lakes, and its deep +snows--the north that makes a man out of the husk of a man if given +half a chance. He loved it. And because he loved it, and the adventure +of it, he had joined the Police two years ago. Some day he would go +back, just for the fun of it; meet his old friends in his old clubs, +and shock baby-eyed Mignon to death with his good health. + +He dropped these meditations as he thought of the mysterious man he was +following. During the course of his two years in the Service he had +picked up a great many odds and ends in the history of Bram's life, and +in the lives of the Johnsons who had preceded him. He had never told +any one how deeply interested he was. He had, at times, made efforts to +discuss the quality of Bram's intelligence, but always he had failed to +make others see and understand his point of view. By the Indians and +half-breeds of the country in which he had lived, Bram was regarded as +a monster of the first order possessed of the conjuring powers of the +devil himself. By the police he was earnestly desired as the most +dangerous murderer at large in all the north, and the lucky man who +captured him, dead or alive, was sure of a sergeantcy. Ambition and +hope had run high in many valiant hearts until it was generally +conceded that Bram was dead. + +Philip was not thinking of the sergeantcy as he kept steadily along the +edge of the Barren. His service would shortly be up, and he had other +plans for the future. From the moment his fingers had touched the +golden strand of hair he had been filled with a new and curious +emotion. It possessed him even more strongly to-day than it had last +night. He had not given voice to that emotion, or to the thoughts it +had roused, even to Pierre. Perhaps he was ridiculous. But he possessed +imagination, and along with that a great deal of sympathy for +animals--and some human beings. He had, for the time, ceased to be the +cool and calculating man-hunter intent on the possession of another's +life. He knew that his duty was to get Bram and take him back to +headquarters, and he also knew that he would perform his duty when the +opportunity came--unless he had guessed correctly the significance of +the golden snare. + +And had he guessed correctly? There was a tremendous doubt in his mind, +and yet he was strangely thrilled. He tried to argue that there were +many ways in which Bram might have secured the golden hairs that had +gone into the making of his snare; and that the snare itself might long +have been carried as a charm against the evils of disease and the devil +by the strange creature whose mind and life were undoubtedly directed +to a large extent by superstition. In that event it was quite logical +that Bram had come into possession of his golden talisman years ago. + +In spite of himself, Philip could not believe that this was so. At +noon, when he built a small fire to make tea and warm his bannock, he +took the golden tress from his wallet and examined it even more closely +than last night. It might have come from a woman's head only yesterday, +so bright and shimmery was it in the pale light of the midday sun. He +was amazed at the length and fineness of it, and the splendid texture +of each hair. Possibly there were half a hundred hairs, each of an +equal and unbroken length. + +He ate his dinner, and went on. Three days of storm had covered utterly +every trace of the trail made by Bram and his wolves. He was convinced, +however, that Bram would travel in the scrub timber close to the +Barren. He had already made up his mind that this Barren--the Great +Barren of the unmapped north--was the great snow sea in which Bram had +so long found safety from the law. Beaching five hundred miles east and +west, and almost from the Sixtieth degree to the Arctic Ocean, its +un-peopled and treeless wastes formed a tramping ground for him as safe +as the broad Pacific to the pirates of old. He could not repress a +shivering exclamation as his mind dwelt on this world of Bram's. It was +worse than the edge of the Arctic, where one might at least have the +Eskimo for company. + +He realized the difficulty of his own quest. His one chance lay in fair +weather, and the discovery of an old trail made by Bram and his pack. +An old trail would lead to fresher ones. Also he was determined to +stick to the edge of the scrub timber, for if the Barren was Bram's +retreat he would sooner or later strike a trail--unless Bram had gone +straight out into the vast white plain shortly after he had made his +camp in the forest near Pierre Breault's cabin. In that event it might +be weeks before Bram would return to the scrub timber again. + +That night the last of the blizzard that had raged for days exhausted +itself. For a week clear weather followed. It was intensely cold, but +no snow fell. In that week Philip traveled a hundred and twenty miles +westward. + +It was on the eighth night, as he sat near his fire in a thick clump of +dwarf spruce, that the thing happened which Pierre Breault, with a +fatalism born of superstition, knew would come to pass. And it is +curious that on this night, and in the very hour of the strange +happening, Philip had with infinite care and a great deal of trouble +rewoven the fifty hairs back into the form of the golden snare. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The night was so bright that the spruce trees cast vivid shadows on the +snow. Overhead there were a billion stars in a sky as dear as an open +sea, and the Great Dipper shone like a constellation of tiny suns. The +world did not need a moon. At a distance of three hundred yards Philip +could have seen a caribou if it had passed. He sat close to his fire, +with the heat of it reflected from the blackened face of a huge rock, +finishing the snare which had taken him an hour to weave. For a long +time he had been conscious of the curious, hissing monotone of the +Aurora, the "music of the skies," reaching out through the space of the +earth with a purring sound that was at times like the purr of a cat and +at others like the faint hum of a bee. Absorbed in his work he did not, +for a time, hear the other sound. Not until he had finished, and was +placing the golden snare in his wallet, did the one sound individualize +and separate itself from the other. + +He straightened himself suddenly, and listened. Then he jumped to his +feet and ran through fifty feet of low scrub to the edge of the white +plain. + +It was coming from off there, a great distance away. Perhaps a mile. It +might be two. The howling of wolves! + +It was not a new or unusual sound to him. He had listened to it many +times during the last two years. But never had it thrilled him as it +did now, and he felt the blood leap in sudden swiftness through his +body as the sound bore straight in his direction. In a flash he +remembered all that Pierre Breault had said. Bram and his pack hunted +like that. And it was Bram who was coming. He knew it. + +He ran back to his tent and in what remained of the heat of the fire he +warmed for a few moments the breech of his rifle. Then he smothered the +fire by kicking snow over it. Returning to the edge of the plain, he +posted himself near the largest spruce he could find, up which it would +be possible for him to climb a dozen feet or so if necessity drove him +to it. And this necessity bore down upon him like the wind. The pack, +whether guided by man or beast, was driving straight at him, and it was +less than a quarter of a mile away when Philip drew himself up in the +spruce. His breath came quick, and his heart was thumping like a drum, +for as he climbed up the slender refuge that was scarcely larger in +diameter than his arm he remembered the time when he had hung up a +thousand pounds of moose meat on cedars as thick as his leg, and the +wolves had come the next night and gnawed them through as if they had +been paper. From his unsteady perch ten feet off the ground he stared +out into the starlit Barren. + +Then came the other sound. It was the swift chug, chug, chug of +galloping feet--of hoofs breaking through the crust of the snow. A +shape loomed up, and Philip knew it was a caribou running for its life. +He drew an easier breath as he saw that the animal was fleeing parallel +with the projecting finger of scrub in which he had made his camp, and +that it would strike the timber a good mile below him. And now, with a +still deeper thrill, he noted the silence of the pursuing wolves. It +meant but one thing. They were so close on the heels of their prey that +they no longer made a sound. Scarcely had the caribou disappeared when +Philip saw the first of them--gray, swiftly moving shapes, spread out +fan-like as they closed in on two sides for attack, so close that he +could hear the patter of their feet and the blood-curdling whines that +came from between their gaping jaws. There were at least twenty of +them, perhaps thirty, and they were gone with the swiftness of shadows +driven by a gale. + +From his uncomfortable position Philip lowered himself to the snow +again. With its three or four hundred yard lead he figured that the +caribou would almost reach the timber a mile away before the end came. +Concealed in the shadow of the spruce, he waited. He made no effort to +analyze the confidence with which he watched for Bram. When he at last +heard the curious ZIP--ZIP--ZIP of snowshoes approaching his blood ran +no faster than it had in the preceding minutes of his expectation, so +sure had he been that the man he was after would soon loom up out of +the starlight. In the brief interval after the passing of the wolves he +had made up his mind what he would do. Fate had played a trump card +into his hand. From the first he had figured that strategy would have +much to do in the taking of Bram, who would be practically unassailable +when surrounded by the savage horde which, at a word from him, had +proved themselves ready to tear his enemies into pieces. Now, with the +wolves gorging themselves, his plan was to cut Bram off and make him, a +prisoner. + +From his knees he rose slowly to his feet, still hidden in the shadow +of the spruce. His rifle he discarded. In his un-mittened hand he held +his revolver. With staring eyes he looked for Bram out where the wolves +had passed. And then, all at once, came the shock. It was tremendous. +The trickery of sound on the Barren had played an unexpected prank with +his senses, and while he strained his eyes to pierce the hazy starlight +of the plain far out, Bram himself loomed up suddenly along the edge of +the bush not twenty paces away. + +Philip choked back the cry on his lips, and in that moment Bram stopped +short, standing full in the starlight, his great lungs taking in and +expelling air with a gasping sound as he listened for his wolves. He +was a giant of a man. A monster, Philip thought. It is probable that +the elusive glow of the night added to his size as he stood there. +About his shoulders fell a mass of unkempt hair that looked like +seaweed. His beard was short and thick, and for a flash Philip saw the +starlight in his eyes--eyes that were shining like the eyes of a cat. +In that same moment he saw the face. It was a terrible, questing +face--the face of a creature that was hunting, and yet hunted; of a +creature half animal and half man. So long as he lived he knew that he +would never forget it; the wild savagery of it, the questing fire that +was in the eyes, the loneliness of it there in the night, set apart +from all mankind; and with the face he would never forget that other +thing that came to him audibly--the throbbing, gasping heartbeat of the +man's body. + +In this moment Philip knew that the time to act was at hand. His +fingers gripped tighter about the butt of his revolver as he stepped +forward out of the shadow. + +Bram would have seen him then, but in that same instant he had flung +back his head and from his throat there went forth a cry such as Philip +had never heard from man or beast before. It began deep in Bram's +cavernous chest, like the rolling of a great drum, and ended in a +wailing shriek that must have carried for miles over the open +plain--the call of the master to his pack, of the man-beast to his +brothers. It may be that even before the cry was finished some +super-instinct had warned Bram Johnson of a danger which he had not +seen. The cry was cut short. It ended in a hissing gasp, as steam is +cut off by a valve. Before Philip's startled senses had adjusted +themselves to action Bram was off, and as his huge strides carried him +swiftly through the starlight the cry that had been on his lips was +replaced by the strange, mad laugh that Pierre Breault had described +with a shiver of fear. + +Without moving, Philip called after him: + +"Bram--Bram Johnson--stop! In the name of the King--" + +It was the old formula, the words that carried with them the majesty +and power of Law throughout the northland. Bram heard them. But he did +not stop. He sped on more swiftly, and again Philip called his name. + +"Bram--Bram Johnson--" + +The laugh came back again. It was weird and chuckling, as though Bram +was laughing at him. + +In the starlight Philip flung up his revolver. He did not aim to hit. +Twice he fired over Bram's head and shoulders, so close that the +fugitive must have heard the whine of the bullets. + +"Bram--Bram Johnson!" he shouted a third time. + +His pistol arm relaxed and dropped to his side, and he stood staring +after the great figure that was now no more than a shadow in the gloom. +And then it was swallowed up entirely. Once more he was alone under the +stars, encompassed by a world of nothingness. He felt, all at once, +that he had been a very great fool. He had played his part like a +child; even his voice had trembled as he called out Bram's name. And +Bram--even Bram--had laughed at him. + +Very soon he would pay the price of his stupidity--of his slowness to +act. It was thought of that which quickened his pulse as he stared out +into the white space into which Bram had gone. Before the night was +over Bram would return, and with him would come the wolves. + +With a shudder Philip thought of Corporal Lee as he turned back through +the scrub to the big rock where he had made his camp. + +The picture that flashed into his mind of the fate of the two men from +Churchill added to the painful realization of his own immediate +peril--a danger brought upon himself by an almost inconceivable +stupidity. Philip was no more than the average human with good red +blood in his veins. A certain amount of personal hazard held a +fascination for him, but he had also the very great human desire to +hold a fairly decent hand in any game of chance he entered. It was the +oppressive conviction that he had no chance now that stunned him. For a +few minutes he stood over the spot where his fire had been, a film of +steam rising into his face, trying to adjust his mind to some sort of +logical action. He was not afraid of Bram. He would quite cheerfully +have gone out and fought open-handedly for his man, even though he had +seen that Bram was a giant. This, much he told himself, as he fingered +the breech of his rifle, and listened. + +But it was not Bram who would fight. The wolves would come. He probably +would not see Bram again. He would hear only his laugh, or his great +voice urging on his pack, as Corporal Lee and the other man had heard +it. + +That Bram would not return for vengeance never for a moment entered his +analysis of the situation. By firing after his man Philip had too +clearly disclosed his identity and his business; and Bram, fighting for +his own existence, would be a fool not to rid himself of an immediate +and dangerous enemy. + +And then, for the first time since he had returned from the edge of the +Barren, Philip saw the man again as he had seen him standing under the +white glow of the stars. And it struck him, all at once, that Bram had +been unarmed. Comprehension of this fact, slow as it had been, worked a +swift and sudden hope in him, and his eyes took in quickly the larger +trees about him. From a tree he could fight the pack and kill them one +by one. He had a rifle and a revolver, and plenty of ammunition. The +advantage would lay all with him. But if he was treed, and Bram +happened to have a rifle-- + +He put on the heavy coat he had thrown off near the fire, filled his +pockets with loose ammunition, and hunted for the tree he wanted. He +found it a hundred yards from his camp. It was a gnarled and wind-blown +spruce six inches in diameter, standing in an open. In this open Philip +knew that he could play havoc with the pack. On the other hand, if Bram +possessed a rifle, the gamble was against him. Perched in the tree, +silhouetted against the stars that made the night like day, he would be +an easy victim. Bram could pick him off without showing himself. But it +was his one chance, and he took it. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +An hour later Philip looked at his watch. It was close to midnight. In +that hour his nerves had been keyed to a tension that was almost at the +breaking point. Not a sound came from off the Barren or from out of the +scrub timber that did not hold a mental and physical shock for him. He +believed that Bram and his pack would come up quietly; that he would +not hear the man's footsteps or the soft pads of his beasts until they +were very near. Twice a great snow owl fluttered over his head. A third +time it pounced down upon a white hare back in the shrub, and for an +instant Philip thought the time had come. The little white foxes, +curious as children, startled him most. Half a dozen times they sent +through him the sharp thrill of anticipation, and twice they made him +climb his tree. + +After that hour the reaction came, and with the steadying of his nerves +and the quieter pulse of his blood Philip began to ask himself if he +was going to escape the ordeal which a short time before he had +accepted as a certainty. Was it possible that his shots had frightened +Bram? He could not believe that. Cowardice was the last thing he would +associate with the strange man he had seen in the starlight. Vividly he +saw Bram's face again. And now, after the almost unbearable strain he +had been under, a mysterious SOMETHING that had been in that face +impinged itself upon him above all other things. Wild and savage as the +face had been, he had seen in it the unutterable pathos of a creature +without hope. In that moment, even as caution held him listening for +the approach of danger, he no longer felt the quickening thrill of man +on the hunt for man. He could not have explained the change in +himself--the swift reaction of thought and emotion that filled him with +a mastering sympathy for Bram Johnson. + +He waited, and less and less grew his fear of the wolves. Even more +clearly he saw Bram as the time passed; the hunted look in the man's +eyes, even as he hunted--the loneliness of him as he had stood +listening for a sound from the only friends he had--the padded beasts +ahead. In spite of Bram's shrieking cry to his pack, and the +strangeness of the laugh that had floated back out of the white night +after the shots, Philip was convinced that he was not mad. He had heard +of men whom loneliness had killed. He had known one--Pelletier, up at +Point Fullerton, on the Arctic. He could repeat by heart the diary +Pelletier had left scribbled on his cabin door. It was worse than +madness. To Pelletier death had come at last as a friend. And Bram had +been like that--dead to human comradeship for years. And yet-- + +Under it all, in Philip's mind, ran the thought of the woman's hair. In +Pierre Breault's cabin he had not given voice to the suspicion that had +flashed upon him. He had kept it to himself, and Pierre, afraid to +speak because of the horror of it, had remained as silent as he. The +thought oppressed him now. He knew that human hair retained its life +and its gloss indefinitely, and that Bram might have had the golden +snare for years. It was quite reasonable to suppose that he had +bartered for it with some white man in the years before he had become +an outlaw, and that some curious fancy or superstition had inspired him +in its possession. But Philip had ceased to be influenced by reason +alone. Sharply opposed to reason was that consciousness within him +which told him that the hair had been freshly cut from a woman's head. +He had no argument with which to drive home the logic of this belief +even with himself, and yet he found it impossible not to accept that +belief fully and unequivocally. There was, or HAD been, a woman with +Bram--and as he thought of the length and beauty and rare texture of +the silken strand in his pocket he could not repress a shudder at the +possibilities the situation involved. Bram--and a woman! And a woman +with hair like that! + +He left his tree after a time. For another hour he paced slowly back +and forth at the edge of the Barren, his senses still keyed to the +highest point of caution. Then he rebuilt his fire, pausing every few +moments in the operation to listen for a suspicious sound. It was very +cold. He noticed, after a little, that the weird sound of the lights +over the Pole had become only a ghostly whisper. The stars were growing +dimmer, and he watched them as they seemed slowly to recede farther and +farther away from the world of which he was a part. This dying out of +the stars always interested him. It was one of the miracles of the +northern world that lay just under the long Arctic night which, a few +hundred miles beyond the Barren, was now at its meridian. It seemed to +him as though ten thousand invisible hands were sweeping under the +heavens extinguishing the lights first in ones and twos and then in +whole constellations. It preceded by perhaps half an hour the utter and +chaotic blackness that comes before the northern dawn, and it was this +darkness that Philip dreaded as he waited beside his fire. + +In the impenetrable gloom of that hour Bram might come. It was possible +that he had been waiting for that darkness. Philip looked at his watch. +It was four o'clock. Once more he went to his tree, and waited. In +another quarter of an hour he could not see the tree beside which he +stood. And Bram did not come. With the beginning of the gray dawn +Philip rebuilt his fire for the third time and prepared to cook his +breakfast. He felt the need of coffee--strong coffee--and he boiled +himself a double ration. At seven o'clock he was ready to take up the +trail. + +He believed now that some mysterious and potent force had restrained +Bram Johnson from taking advantage of the splendid opportunity of that +night to rid himself of an enemy. As he made his way through the scrub +timber along the edge of the Barren it was with the feeling that he no +longer desired Bram as a prisoner. A thing more interesting than Bram +had entered into the adventure. It was the golden snare. Not with Bram +himself, but only at the end of Bram's trail, would he find what the +golden snare stood for. There he would discover the mystery and the +tragedy of it, if it meant anything at all. He appreciated the extreme +hazard of following Bram to his long hidden retreat. The man he might +outwit in pursuit and overcome in fair fight, if it came to a fight, +but against the pack he was fighting tremendous odds. + +What this odds meant had not fully gripped him until he came cautiously +out of the timber half an hour later and saw what was left of the +caribou the pack had killed. The bull had fallen within fifty yards of +the edge of the scrub. For a radius of twenty feet about it the snow +was beaten hard by the footprints of beasts, and this arena was stained +red with blood and scattered thickly with bits of flesh, broken bones +and patches of hide. Philip could see where Bram had come in on the +run, and where he had kicked off his snowshoes. After that his great +moccasin tracks mingled with those of the wolves. Bram had evidently +come in time to save the hind quarters, which had been dragged to a +spot well out of the red ring of slaughter. After that the stars must +have looked down upon an amazing scene. The hungry horde had left +scarcely more than the disemboweled offal. Where Bram had dragged his +meat there was a small circle worn by moccasin tracks, and here, too, +were small bits of flesh, scattered about--the discarded remnants of +Bram's own feast. + +The snow told as clearly as a printed page what had happened after +that. Its story amazed Philip. From somewhere Bram had produced a +sledge, and on this sledge he had loaded what remained of the caribou +meat. From the marks in the snow Philip saw that it had been of the low +ootapanask type, but that it was longer and broader than any sledge he +had ever seen. He did not have to guess at what had happened. +Everything was too clear for that. Far back on the Barren Bram had +loosed his pack at sight of the caribou, and the pursuit and kill had +followed. After that, when beasts and man had gorged themselves, they +had returned through the night for the sledge. Bram had made a wide +detour so that he would not again pass near the finger of scrub timber +that concealed his enemy, and with a curious quickening of the blood in +his veins Philip observed how closely the pack hung at his heels. The +man was master--absolutely. Later they had returned with the sledge, +Bram had loaded his meat, and with his pack had struck out straight +north over the Barren. Every wolf was in harness, and Bram rode on the +sledge. + +Philip drew a deep breath. He was learning new things about Bram +Johnson. First he assured himself that Bram was not afraid, and that +his disappearance could not be called a flight. If fear of capture had +possessed him he would not have returned for his meat. Suddenly he +recalled Pierre Breault's story of how Bram had carried off the +haunches of a bull upon his shoulders as easily as a child might have +carried a toy gun, and he wondered why Bram--instead of returning for +the meat this night--had not carried the meat to his sledge. It would +have saved time and distance. He was beginning to give Bram credit for +a deeply mysterious strategy. There was some definite reason why he had +not made an attack with his wolves that night. There was a reason for +the wide detour around the point of timber, and there was a still more +inexplicable reason why he had come back with his sledge for the meat, +instead of carrying his meat to the sledge. The caribou haunch had not +weighed more than sixty or seventy pounds, which was scarcely half a +burden for Bram's powerful shoulders. + +In the edge of the timber, where he could secure wood for his fire, +Philip began to prepare. He cooked food for six days. Three days he +would follow Bram out into that unmapped and treeless space--the Great +Barren. Beyond that it would be impossible to go without dogs or +sledge. Three days out, and three days back--and even at that he would +be playing a thrilling game with death. In the heart of the Barren a +menace greater than Bram and his wolves would be impending. It was +storm. + +His heart sank a little as he set out straight north, marking the +direction by the point of his compass. It was a gray and sunless day. +Beyond him for a distance the Barren was a white plain, and this plain +seemed always to be merging not very far ahead into the purple haze of +the sky. At the end of an hour he was in the center of a vast +amphitheater which was filled with the gloom and the stillness of +death. Behind him the thin fringe of the forest had disappeared. The +rim of the sky was like a leaden thing, widening only as he advanced. +Under that sky, and imprisoned within its circular walls, he knew that +men had gone mad; he felt already the crushing oppression of an +appalling loneliness, and for another hour he fought an almost +irresistible desire to turn back. Not a rock or a shrub rose to break +the monotony, and over his head--so low that at times it seemed as +though he might have flung a stone up to them--dark clouds rolled +sullenly from out of the north and east. + +Half a dozen times in those first two hours he looked at his compass. +Not once in that time did Bram diverge from his steady course into the +north. In the gray gloom, without a stone or a tree to mark his way, +his sense of orientation was directing him as infallibly as the +sensitive needle of the instrument which Philip carried. + +It was in the third hour, seven or eight miles from the scene of +slaughter, that Philip came upon the first stopping place of the +sledge. The wolves had not broken their traveling rank, and for this +reason he guessed that Bram had paused only long enough to put on his +snowshoes. After this Philip could measure quite accurately the speed +of the outlaw and his pack. Bram's snow-shoe strides were from twelve +to sixteen inches longer than his own, and there was little doubt that +Bram was traveling six miles to his four. + +It was one o'clock when Philip stopped to eat his dinner. He figured +that he was fifteen miles from the timber-line. As he ate there pressed +upon him more and more persistently the feeling that he had entered +upon an adventure which was leading toward inevitable disaster for him. +For the first time the significance of Bram's supply of meat, secured +by the outlaw at the last moment before starting out into the Barren, +appeared to him with a clearness that filled him with uneasiness. It +meant that Bram required three or four days' rations for himself and +his pack in crossing this sea of desolation that reached in places to +the Arctic. In that time, if necessity was driving him, he could cover +a hundred and fifty miles, while Philip could make less than a hundred. + +Until three o'clock in the afternoon he followed steadily over Bram's +trail. He would have pursued for another hour if a huge and dome-shaped +snowdrift had not risen in his path. In the big drift he decided to +make his house for the night. It was an easy matter--a trick learned of +the Eskimo. With his belt-ax he broke through the thick crust of the +drift, using care that the "door" he thus opened into it was only large +enough for the entrance of his body. Using a snowshoe as a shovel he +then began digging out the soft interior of the drift, burrowing a two +foot tunnel until he was well back from the door, where he made himself +a chamber large enough for his sleeping-bag. The task employed him less +than an hour, and when his bed was made, and he stood in front of the +door to his igloo, his spirits began to return. The assurance that he +had a home at his back in which neither cold nor storm could reach him +inspirited him with an optimism which he had not felt at any time +during the day. + +From the timber he had borne a precious bundle of finely split +kindlings of pitch-filled spruce, and with a handful of these he built +himself a tiny fire over which, on a longer stick brought for the +purpose, he suspended his tea pail, packed with snow. The crackling of +the flames set him whistling. Darkness was falling swiftly about him. +By the time his tea was ready and he had warmed his cold bannock and +bacon the gloom was like a black curtain that he might have slit with a +knife. Not a star was visible in the sky. Twenty feet on either side of +him he could not see the surface of the snow. Now and then he added a +bit of his kindling to the dying embers, and in the glow of the last +stick he smoked his pipe, and as he smoked he drew from his wallet the +golden snare. Coiled in the hollow of his hand and catching the red +light of the pitch-laden fagot it shone with the rich luster of rare +metal. Not until the pitch was burning itself out in a final sputter of +flame did Philip replace it in the wallet. + +With the going of the fire an utter and chaotic blackness shut him in. +Feeling his way he crawled through the door of his tunnel, over the +inside of which he had fastened as a flap his silk service tent. Then +he stretched himself out in his sleeping-bag. It was surprisingly +comfortable. Since he had left Breault's cabin he had not enjoyed such +a bed. And last night he had not slept at all. He fell into deep sleep. +The hours and the night passed over him. He did not hear the wailing of +the wind that came with the dawn. When day followed dawn there were +other sounds which he did not hear. His inner consciousness, the +guardian of his sleep, cried for him to arouse himself. It pounded like +a little hand in his brain, and at last he began to move restlessly, +and twist in his sleeping-bag. His eyes shot open suddenly. The light +of day filled his tunnel. He looked toward the "door" which he had +covered with his tent. + +The tent was gone. + +In its place was framed a huge shaggy head, and Philip found himself +staring straight into the eyes of Bram Johnson. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Philip was not unaccustomed to the occasional mental and physical shock +which is an inevitable accompaniment of the business of Law in the +northland. But never had he felt quite the same stir in his blood as +now--when he found himself looking down the short tunnel into the face +of the man he was hunting. + +There come now and then moments in which a curious understanding is +impinged upon one without loss of time in reason and surmise--and this +was one of those moments for Philip. His first thought as he saw the +great wild face in the door of his tunnel was that Bram had been +looking at him for some time--while he was asleep; and that if the +desire to kill had been in the outlaw's breast he might have achieved +his purpose with very little trouble. Equally swift was his observance +of the fact that the tent with which he had covered the aperture was +gone, and that his rifle, with the weight of which he had held the tent +in place, had disappeared. Bram had secured possession of them before +he had roused himself. + +It was not the loss of these things, or entirely Bram's sudden and +unexpected appearance, that sent through him the odd thrill, which he +experienced. It was Bram's face, his eyes, the tense and mysterious +earnestness that was in his gaze. It was not the watchfulness of a +victor looking at his victim. In it there was no sign of hatred or of +exultation. There was not even unfriendliness there. Rather it was the +study of one filled with doubt and uneasiness, and confronted by a +question which he could not answer. There was not a line of the face +which Philip could not see now--its high cheek-bones, its wide cheeks, +the low forehead, the flat nose, the thick lips. Only the eyes kept it +from being a terrible face. Straight down through the generations Bram +must have inherited those eyes from some woman of the past. They were +strange things in that wild and hunted creature's face--gray eyes, +large, beautiful. With the face taken away they would have been +wonderful. + +For a full minute not a sound passed between the two men. Philip's hand +had slipped to the butt of his revolver, but he had no intention of +using it. Then he found his voice. It seemed the most natural thing in +the world that he should say what he did. + +"Hello, Bram!" + +"Boo-joo, m'sieu!" + +Only Bram's thick lips moved. His voice was low and guttural. Almost +instantly his head disappeared from the opening. + +Philip dug himself quickly from his sleeping-bag. Through the aperture +there came to him now another sound, the yearning whine of beasts. He +could not hear Bram. In spite of the confidence which his first look at +Bram had given him he felt a sudden shiver run up his spine as he faced +the end of the tunnel on his hands and knees, his revolver in his hand. +What a rat in a trap he would be if Bram loosed his wolves! What sport +for the pack--and perhaps for the master himself! He could kill two or +three--and that would be all. They would be in on him like a whirlwind, +diving through his snow walls as easily as a swimmer might cut through +water. Had he twice made a fool of himself? Should he have winged Bram +Johnson, three times a murderer, in place of offering him a greeting? + +He began crawling toward the opening, and again he heard the snarl and +whine of the beasts. The sound seemed some distance away. He reached +the end of the tunnel and peered out through the "door" he had made in +the crust. + +From his position he could see nothing--nothing but the endless sweep +of the Barren and his old trail leading up to the snow dune. The muzzle +of his revolver was at the aperture when he heard Bram's voice. + +"M'sieu--ze revolv'--ze knife--or I mus' keel yon. Ze wolve plent' +hungr'--" + +Bram was standing just outside of his line of vision. He had not spoken +loudly or threateningly, but Philip felt in the words a cold and +unexcited deadliness of purpose against which he knew that it would be +madness for him to fight. Bram had more than the bad man's ordinary +drop on him. In his wolves he possessed not only an advantage but a +certainty. If Philip had doubted this, as he waited for another moment +with the muzzle of his revolver close to the opening, his uncertainty +was swept away by the appearance thirty feet in front of his tunnel of +three of Bram's wolves. They were giants of their kind, and as the +three faced his refuge he could see the snarling gleam of their long +fangs. A fourth and a fifth joined them, and after that they came +within his vision in twos and threes until a score of them were huddled +straight in front of him. They were restless and whining, and the snap +of their jaws was like the clicking of castanets. He caught the glare +of twenty pairs of eyes fastened on his retreat and involuntarily he +shrank back that they might not see him. He knew that it was Bram who +was holding them back, and yet he had heard no word, no command. Even +as he stared a long snakelike shadow uncurled itself swiftly in the air +and the twenty foot lash of Bram's caribou-gut whip cracked viciously +over the heads of the pack. At the warning of the whip the horde of +beasts scattered, and Bram's voice came again. + +"M'sieu--ze revolv'--ze knife--or I loose ze wolve--" + +The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Philip's revolver flew +through the opening and dropped in the snow. + +"There it is, old man," announced Philip. "And here comes the knife." + +His sheath-knife followed the revolver. + +"Shall I throw out my bed?" he asked. + +He was making a tremendous effort to appear cheerful. But he could not +forget that last night he had shot at Bram, and that it was not at all +unreasonable to suppose that Bram might knock his brains out when he +stuck his head out of the hole. The fact that Bram made no answer to +his question about the bed did not add to his assurance. He repeated +the question, louder than before, and still there was no answer. In the +face of his perplexity he could not repress a grim chuckle as he rolled +up his blankets. What a report he would have for the Department--if he +lived to make it! On paper there would be a good deal of comedy about +it--this burrowing oneself up like a hibernating woodchuck, and then +being invited out to breakfast by a man with a club and a pack of +brutes with fangs that had gleamed at him like ivory stilettos. He had +guessed at the club, and a moment later as he thrust his sleeping-bag +out through the opening he saw that it was quite obviously a correct +one. Bram was possessing himself of the revolver and the knife. In the +same hand he held his whip and a club. + +Seizing the opportunity, Philip followed his bed quickly, and when Bram +faced him he was standing on his feet outside the drift. + +"Morning, Bram!" + +His greeting was drowned in a chorus of fierce snarls that made his +blood curdle even as he tried to hide from Bram any visible betrayal of +the fact that every nerve up and down his spine was pricking him, like +a pin. From Bram's throat there shot forth at the pack a sudden sharp +clack of Eskimo, and with it the long whip snapped in their faces again. + +Then he looked steadily at his prisoner. For the first time Philip saw +the look which he dreaded darkening his face. A greenish fire burned in +the strange eyes. The thick lips were set tightly, the flat nose seemed +flatter, and with a shiver Philip noticed Bram's huge, naked hand +gripping his club until the cords stood out like babiche thongs under +the skin. In that moment he was ready to kill. A wrong word, a wrong +act, and Philip knew that the end was inevitable. + +In the same thick guttural voice which he used in his half-breed patois +he demanded, + +"Why you shoot--las' night!" + +"Because I wanted to talk with you, Bram," replied Philip calmly. "I +didn't shoot to hit you. I fired over your head." + +"You want--talk," said Bram, speaking as if each word cost him a +certain amount of effort. "Why--talk?" + +"I wanted to ask you why it was that you killed a man down in the God's +Lake country." + +The words were out before Philip could stop them. A growl rose in +Bram's chest. It was like the growl of a beast. The greenish fire in +his eyes grew brighter. + +"Ze poleece," he said. "KA, ze poleece--like kam from Churchill an' ze +wolve keel!" + +Philip's hand was fumbling in his pocket. The wolves were behind him +and he dared not turn to look. It was their ominous silence that filled +him with dread. They were waiting--watching--their animal instinct +telling them that the command for which they yearned was already +trembling on the thick lips of their master. The revolver and the knife +dropped from Bram's hand. He held only the whip and the club. + +Philip drew forth the wallet. + +"You lost something--when you camped that night near Pierre Breault's +cabin," he said, and his own voice seemed strange and thick to him. +"I've followed you--to give it back. I could have killed you if I had +wanted to--when I fired over your head. But I wanted to stop you. I +wanted to give you--this." + +He held out to Bram the golden snare. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +It must have been fully half a minute that Bram stood like a living +creature turned suddenly into dead stone. His eyes had left Philip's +face and were fixed on the woven tress of shining hair. For the first +time his thick lips had fallen agape. He did not seem to breathe. At +the end of the thirty seconds his hand unclenched from about the whip +and the club and they fell into the snow. Slowly, his eyes still fixed +on the snare as if it held for him an overpowering fascination, he +advanced a step, and then another, until he reached out and took from +Philip the thing which he held. He uttered no word. But from his eyes +there disappeared the greenish fire. The lines in his heavy face +softened and his thick lips lost some of their cruelty as he held up +the snare before his eyes so that the light played on its sheen of +gold. It was then that Philip saw that which must have meant a smile in +Bram's face. + +Still this strange man made no spoken sound as he coiled the silken +thread around one of his great fingers and then placed it somewhere +inside his coat. He seemed, all at once, utterly oblivious of Philip's +presence. He picked up the revolver, gazed heavily at it for a moment, +and with a grunt which must have reflected his mental decision hurled +it far out over the plain. Instantly the wolves were after it in a mad +rush. The knife followed the revolver; and after that, as coolly as +though breaking firewood, the giant went to Philip's rifle, braced it +across his knee, and with a single effort snapped the stock off close +to the barrel. + +"The devil!" growled Philip. + +He felt a surge of anger rise in him, and for an instant the +inclination to fling himself at Bram in the defense of his property. If +he had been helpless a few minutes before, he was utterly so now. In +the same breath it flashed upon him that Bram's activity in the +destruction of his weapons meant that his life was spared, at least for +the present. Otherwise Bram would not be taking these precautions. + +The futility of speech kept his own lips closed. At last Bram looked at +him, and pointed to his snowshoes where he had placed them last night +against the snow dune. His invitation for Philip to prepare himself for +travel was accompanied by nothing more than a grunt. + +The wolves were returning, sneaking in watchfully and alert. Bram +greeted them with the snap of his whip, and when Philip was ready +motioned him to lead the way into the north. Half a dozen paces behind +Philip followed Bram, and twice that distance behind the outlaw came +the pack. Now that his senses were readjusting themselves and his pulse +beating more evenly Philip began to take stock of the situation. It +was, first of all, quite evident that Bram had not accepted him as a +traveling companion, but as a prisoner; and he was equally convinced +that the golden snare had at the last moment served in some mysterious +way to save his life. + +It was not long before he saw how Bram had out-generaled him. Two miles +beyond the big drift they came upon the outlaw's huge sledge, from +which Bram and his wolves had made a wide circle in order to stalk him +from behind. The fact puzzled him. Evidently Bram had expected his +unknown enemy to pursue him, and had employed his strategy accordingly. +Why, then, had he not attacked him the night of the caribou kill? + +He watched Bram as he got the pack into harness. The wolves obeyed him +like dogs. He could perceive among them a strange comradeship, even an +affection, for the man-monster who was their master. Bram spoke to them +entirely in Eskimo--and the sound of it was like the rapid +CLACK--CLACK--CLACK of dry bones striking together. It was weirdly +different from the thick and guttural tones Bram used in speaking +Chippewyan and the half-breed patois. + +Again Philip made an effort to induce Bram to break his oppressive +silence. With a suggestive gesture and a hunch of his shoulders he +nodded toward the pack, just as they were about to start. + +"If you thought I tried to kill you night before last why didn't you +set your wolves after me, Bram--as you did those other two over on the +Barren north of Kasba Lake? Why did you wait until this morning? And +where--WHERE in God's name are we going?" + +Bram stretched out an arm. + +"There!" + +It was the one question he answered, and he pointed straight as the +needle of a compass into the north. And then, as if his crude sense of +humor had been touched by the other thing Philip had asked, he burst +into a laugh. It made one shudder to see laughter in a face like +Bram's. It transformed his countenance from mere ugliness into one of +the leering gargoyles carven under the cornices of ancient buildings. +It was this laugh, heard almost at Bram's elbow, that made Philip +suddenly grip hard at a new understanding--the laugh and the look in +Bram's eyes. It set him throbbing, and filled him all at once with the +desire to seize his companion by his great shoulders and shake speech +from his thick lips. In that moment, even before the laughter had gone +from Bram's face, he thought again of Pelletier. Pelletier must have +been like this--in those terrible days when he scribbled the random +thoughts of a half-mad man on his cabin door. + +Bram was not yet mad. And yet he was fighting the thing that had killed +Pelletier. Loneliness. The fate forced upon him by the law because he +had killed a man. + +His face was again heavy and unemotional when with a gesture he made +Philip understand that he was to ride on the sledge. Bram himself went +to the head of the pack. At the sharp clack of his Eskimo the wolves +strained in their traces. Another moment and they were off, with Bram +in the lead. + +Philip was amazed at the pace set by the master of the pack. With head +and shoulders hunched low he set off in huge swinging strides that kept +the team on a steady trot behind him. They must have traveled eight +miles an hour. For a few minutes Philip could not keep his eyes from +Bram and the gray backs of the wolves. They fascinated him, and at the +same time the sight of them--straining on ahead of him into a voiceless +and empty world--filled him with a strange and overwhelming compassion. +He saw in them the brotherhood of man and beast. It was splendid. It +was epic. And to this the Law had driven them! + +His eyes began to take in the sledge then. On it was a roll of bear +skins--Bram's blankets. One was the skin of a polar bear. Near these +skins were the haunches of caribou meat, and so close to him that he +might have reached out and touched it was Bram's club. At the side of +the club lay a rifle. It was of the old breech-loading, single-shot +type, and Philip wondered why Bram had destroyed his own modern weapon +instead of keeping it in place of this ancient Company relic. It also +made him think of night before last, when he had chosen for his refuge +a tree out in the starlight. + +The club, even more than the rifle, bore marks of use. It was of birch, +and three feet in length. Where Bram's hand gripped it the wood was +worn as smooth and dark as mahogany. In many places the striking end of +the club was dented as though it had suffered the impact of tremendous +blows, and it was discolored by suggestive stains. There was no sign of +cooking utensils and no evidence of any other food but the caribou +flesh. On the rear of the sledge was a huge bundle of pitch-soaked +spruce tied with babiche, and out of this stuck the crude handle of an +ax. + +Of these things the gun and the white bear skin impressed Philip most. +He had only to lean forward a little to reach the rifle, and the +thought that he could scarcely miss the broad back of the man ahead of +him struck him all at once with a sort of mental shock. Bram had +evidently forgotten the weapon, or was utterly confident in the +protection of the pack. Or--had he faith in his prisoner? It was this +last question that Philip would liked to have answered in the +affirmative. He had no desire to harm Bram. He had even a less desire +to escape him. He had forgotten, so far as his personal intentions were +concerned, that he was an agent of the Law--under oath to bring in to +Divisional Headquarters Bram's body dead or alive. Since night before +last Bram had ceased to be a criminal for him. He was like Pelletier, +and through him he was entering upon a strange adventure which held for +him already the thrill and suspense of an anticipation which he had +never experienced in the game of man-hunting. + +Had the golden snare been taken from the equation--had he not felt the +thrill of it in his fingers and looked upon the warm fires of it as it +lay unbound on Pierre Breault's table, his present relation with Bram +Johnson he would have considered as a purely physical condition, and he +might then have accepted the presence of the rifle there within his +reach as a direct invitation from Providence. + +As it was, he knew that the master of the wolves was speeding swiftly +to the source of the golden snare. From the moment he had seen the +strange transformation it had worked in Bram that belief within him had +become positive. And now, as his eyes turned from the inspection of the +sledge to Bram and his wolves, he wondered where the trail was taking +him. Was it possible that Bram was striking straight north for +Coronation Gulf and the Eskimo? He had noted that the polar bear skin +was only slightly worn--that it had not long been taken from the back +of the animal that had worn it. He recalled what he could remember of +his geography. Their course, if continued in the direction Bram was now +heading, would take them east of the Great Slave and the Great Bear, +and they would hit the Arctic somewhere between Melville Sound and the +Coppermine River. It was a good five hundred miles to the Eskimo +settlements there. Bram and his wolves could make it in ten days, +possibly in eight. + +If his guess was correct, and Coronation Gulf was Bram's goal, he had +found at least one possible explanation for the tress of golden hair. + +The girl or woman to whom it had belonged had come into the north +aboard a whaling ship. Probably she was the daughter or the wife of the +master. The ship had been lost in the ice--she had been saved by the +Eskimo--and she was among them now, with other white men. Philip +pictured it all vividly. It was unpleasant--horrible. The theory of +other white men being with her he was conscious of forcing upon himself +to offset the more reasonable supposition that, as in the case of the +golden snare, she belonged to Bram. He tried to free himself of that +thought, but it clung to him with a tenaciousness that oppressed him +with a grim and ugly foreboding. What a monstrous fate for a woman! He +shivered. For a few moments every instinct in his body fought to assure +him that such a thing could not happen. And yet he knew that it COULD +happen. A woman up there--with Bram! A woman with hair like spun +gold--and that giant half-mad enormity of a man! + +He clenched his hands at the picture his excited brain was painting for +him. He wanted to jump from the sledge, overtake Bram, and demand the +truth from him. He was calm enough to realize the absurdity of such +action. Upon his own strategy depended now whatever answer he might +make to the message chance had sent to him through the golden snare. + +For an hour he marked Bram's course by his compass. It was straight +north. Then Bram changed the manner of his progress by riding in a +standing position behind Philip. With his long whip he urged on the +pack until they were galloping over the frozen level of the plain at a +speed that must have exceeded ten miles an hour. A dozen times Philip +made efforts at conversation. Not a word did he get from Bram in reply. +Again and again the outlaw shouted to his wolves in Eskimo; he cracked +his whip, he flung his great arms over his head, and twice there rolled +out of his chest deep peals of strange laughter. They had been +traveling more than two hours when he gave voice to a sudden command +that stopped the pack, and at a second command--a staccato of shrill +Eskimo accompanied by the lash of his whip--the panting wolves sank +upon their bellies in the snow. + +Philip jumped from the sledge, and Bram went immediately to the gun. He +did not touch it, but dropped on his knees and examined it closely. +Then he rose to his feet and looked at Philip, and there was no sign of +madness in his heavy face as he said, + +"You no touch ze gun, m'sieu. Why you no shoot when I am there--at head +of pack?" + +The calmness and directness with which Bram put the question after his +long and unaccountable silence surprised Philip. + +"For the same reason you didn't kill me when I was asleep, I guess," he +said. Suddenly he reached out and caught Bram's arm. "Why the devil +don't you come across!" he demanded. "Why don't you talk? I'm not after +you--now. The Police think you are dead, and I don't believe I'd tip +them off even if I had a chance. Why not be human? Where are we going? +And what in thunder--" + +He did not finish. To his amazement Bram flung back his head, opened +his great mouth, and laughed. It was not a taunting laugh. There was no +humor in it. The thing seemed beyond the control of even Bram himself, +and Philip stood like one paralyzed as his companion turned quickly to +the sledge and returned in a moment with the gun. Under Philip's eyes +he opened the breech. The chamber was empty. Bram had placed in his way +a temptation--to test him! + +There was saneness in that stratagem--and yet as Philip looked at the +man now his last doubt was gone. Bram Johnson was hovering on the +borderland of madness. + +Replacing the gun on the sledge, Bram began hacking off chunks of the +caribou flesh with a big knife. Evidently he had decided that it was +time for himself and his pack to breakfast. To each of the wolves he +gave a portion, after which he seated himself on the sledge and began +devouring a slice of the raw meat. He had left the blade of his knife +buried in the carcass--an invitation for Philip to help himself. Philip +seated himself near Bram and opened his pack. Purposely he began +placing his food between them, so that the other might help himself if +he so desired. Bram's jaws ceased their crunching. For a moment Philip +did not look up. When he did he was startled. Bram's eyes were blazing +with a red fire. He was staring at the cooked food. Never had Philip +seen such a look in a human face before. + +He reached out and seized a chunk of bannock, and was about to bite +into it when with the snarl of a wild beast Bram dropped his meat and +was at him. Before Philip could raise an arm in defense his enemy had +him by the throat. Back over the sledge they went. Philip scarcely knew +how it happened--but in another moment the giant had hurled him clean +over his head and he struck the frozen plain with a shock that stunned +him. When he staggered to his feet, expecting a final assault that +would end him, Bram was kneeling beside his pack. A mumbling and +incoherent jargon of sound issued from his thick lips as he took stock +of Philip's supplies. Of Philip himself he seemed now utterly +oblivious. Still mumbling, he dragged the pile of bear skins from the +sledge, unrolled them, and revealed a worn and tattered dunnage bag. At +first Philip thought this bag was empty. Then Bram drew from it a few +small packages, some of them done up in paper and others in bark. Only +one of these did Philip recognize--a half pound package of tea such as +the Hudson's Bay Company offers in barter at its stores. Into the +dunnage bag Bram now put Philip's supplies, even to the last crumb of +bannock, and then returned the articles he had taken out, after which +he rolled the bag up in the bear skins and replaced the skins on the +sledge. + +After that, still mumbling, and still paying no attention to Philip, he +reseated himself on the edge of the sledge and finished his breakfast +of raw meat. + +"The poor devil!" mumbled Philip. + +The words were out of his mouth before he realized that he had spoken +them. He was still a little dazed by the shock of Bram's assault, but +it was impossible for him to bear malice or thought of vengeance. In +Bram's face, as he had covetously piled up the different articles of +food, he had seen the terrible glare of starvation--and yet he had not +eaten a mouthful. He had stored the food away, and Philip knew it was +as much as his life was worth to contend its ownership. + +Again Bram seemed to be unconscious of his presence, but when Philip +went to the meat and began carving himself off a slice the wolf-man's +eyes shot in his direction just once. Purposely he stood in front of +Bram as he ate the raw steak, feigning a greater relish than he +actually enjoyed in consuming his uncooked meal. Bram did not wait for +him to finish. No sooner had he swallowed the last of his own breakfast +than he was on his feet giving sharp commands to the pack. Instantly +the wolves were alert in their traces. Philip took his former position +on the sledge, with Bram behind him. + +Never in all the years afterward did he forget that day. As the hours +passed it seemed to him that neither man nor beast could very long +stand the strain endured by Bram and his wolves. At times Bram rode on +the sledge for short distances, but for the most part he was running +behind, or at the head of the pack. For the pack there was no rest. +Hour after hour it surged steadily onward over the endless plain, and +whenever the wolves sagged for a moment in their traces Brain's whip +snapped over their gray backs and his voice rang out in fierce +exhortation. So hard was the frozen crust of the Barren that snowshoes +were no longer necessary, and half a dozen times Philip left the sledge +and ran with the wolf-man and his pack until he was winded. Twice he +ran shoulder to shoulder with Bram. + +It was in the middle of the afternoon that his compass told him they +were no longer traveling north--but almost due west. Every quarter of +an hour after that he looked at his compass. And always the course was +west. + +He was convinced that some unusual excitement was urging Bram on, and +he was equally certain this excitement had taken possession of him from +the moment he had found the food in his pack. Again and again he heard +the strange giant mumbling incoherently to himself, but not once did +Bram utter a word that he could understand. + +The gray world about them was darkening when at last they stopped. + +And now, strangely as before, Bram seemed for a few moments to turn +into a sane man. + +He pointed to the bundle of fuel, and as casually as though he had been +conversing with him all the day he said to Philip: + +"A fire, m'sieu." + +The wolves had dropped in their traces, their great shaggy heads +stretched out between their paws in utter exhaustion, and Bram went +slowly down the line speaking to each one in turn. After that he fell +again into his stolid silence. From the bear skins he produced a +kettle, filled it with snow, and hung it over the pile of fagots to +which Philip was touching a match. Philip's tea pail he employed in the +same way. + +"How far have we come, Bram?" Philip asked. + +"Fift' mile, m'sieu," answered Bram without hesitation. + +"And how much farther have we to go?" + +Bram grunted. His face became more stolid. In his hand he was holding +the big knife with which he cut the caribou meat. He was staring at it. +From the knife he looked at Philip. + +"I keel ze man at God's Lake because he steal ze knife--an' call me +lie. I keel heem--lak that!"--and he snatched up a stick and broke it +into two pieces. + +His weird laugh followed the words. He went to the meat and began +carving off chunks for the pack, and for a long time after that one +would have thought that he was dumb. Philip made greater effort than +ever to rouse him into speech. He laughed, and whistled, and once tried +the experiment of singing a snatch of the Caribou Song which he knew +that Bram must have heard many times before. As he roasted his steak +over the fire he talked about the Barren, and the great herd of caribou +he had seen farther east; he asked Bram questions about the weather, +the wolves, and the country farther north and west. More than once he +was certain that Bram was listening intently, but nothing more than an +occasional grunt was his response. + +For an hour after they had finished their supper they continued to melt +snow for drinking water for themselves and the wolves. Night shut them +in, and in the glow of the fire Bram scooped a hollow in the snow for a +bed, and tilted the big sledge over it as a roof. Philip made himself +as comfortable as he could with his sleeping bag, using his tent as an +additional protection. The fire went out. Bram's heavy breathing told +Philip that the wolf-man was soon asleep. It was a long time before he +felt a drowsiness creeping over himself. + +Later he was awakened by a heavy grasp on his arm, and roused himself +to hear Bram's voice close over him. + +"Get up, m'sieu." + +It was so dark he could not see Bram when he got on his feet, but he +could hear him a moment later among the wolves, and knew that he was +making ready to travel. When his sleeping-bag and tent were on the +sledge he struck a match and looked at his watch. It was less than a +quarter of an hour after midnight. + +For two hours Bram led his pack straight into the west. The night +cleared after that, and as the stars grew brighter and more numerous in +the sky the plain was lighted up on all sides of them, as on the night +when Philip had first seen Bram. By lighting an occasional match Philip +continued to keep a record of direction and time. It was three o'clock, +and they were still traveling west, when to his surprise they struck a +small patch of timber. The clump of stunted and wind-snarled spruce +covered no more than half an acre, but it was conclusive evidence they +were again approaching a timber-line. + +From the patch of spruce Bram struck due north, and for another hour +their trail was over the white Barren. Soon after this they came to a +fringe of scattered timber which grew steadily heavier and deeper as +they entered into it. They must have penetrated eight or ten miles into +the forest before the dawn came. And in that dawn, gray and gloomy, +they came suddenly upon a cabin. + +Philip's heart gave a jump. Here, at last, would the mystery of the +golden snare be solved. This was his first thought. But as they drew +nearer, and stopped at the threshold of the door, he felt sweep over +him an utter disappointment. There was no life here. No smoke came from +the chimney and the door was almost buried in a huge drift of snow. His +thoughts were cut short by the crack of Bram's whip. The wolves swept +onward and Bram's insane laugh sent a weird and shuddering echo through +the forest. + +From the time they left behind them the lifeless and snow-smothered +cabin Philip lost account of time and direction. He believed that Bram +was nearing the end of his trail. The wolves were dead tired. The +wolf-man himself was lagging, and since midnight had ridden more +frequently on the sledge. Still he drove on, and Philip searched with +increasing eagerness the trail ahead of them. + +It was eight o'clock--two hours after they had passed the cabin--when +they came to the edge of a clearing in the center of which was a second +cabin. Here at a glance Philip saw there was life. A thin spiral of +smoke was rising from the chimney. He could see only the roof of the +log structure, for it was entirely shut in by a circular stockade of +saplings six feet high. + +Twenty paces from where Bram stopped his team was the gate of the +stockade. Bram went to it, thrust his arm through a hole even with his +shoulders, and a moment later the gate swung inward. For perhaps a +space of twenty seconds he looked steadily at Philip, and for the first +time Philip observed the remarkable change that had come into his face. +It was no longer a face of almost brutish impassiveness. There was a +strange glow in his eyes. His thick lips were parted as if on the point +of speech, and he was breathing with a quickness which did not come of +physical exertion. Philip did not move or speak. Behind him he heard +the restless whine of the wolves. He kept his eyes on Bram, and as he +saw the look of joy and anticipation deepening in the wolf-man's face +the appalling thought of what it meant sickened him. He clenched his +hands. Bram did not see the act. He was looking again toward the cabin +and at the spiral of smoke rising out of the chimney. + +Then he faced Philip, and said, + +"M'sieu, you go to ze cabin." + +He held the gate open, and Philip entered. He paused to make certain of +Bram's intention. The wolf-man swept an arm about the enclosure. + +"In ze pit I loose ze wolve, m'sieu." + +Philip understood. The stockade enclosure was Bram's wolf-pit, and Bram +meant that he should reach the cabin before he gave the pack the +freedom of the corral. He tried to conceal the excitement in his face +as he turned toward the cabin. From the gate to the door ran a path +worn by many footprints, and his heart beat faster as he noted the +smallness of the moccasin tracks. Even then his mind fought against the +possibility of the thing. Probably it was an Indian woman who lived +with Bram, or an Eskimo girl he had brought down from the north. + +He made no sound as he approached the door. He did not knock, but +opened it and entered, as Bram had invited him to do. + +From the gate Bram watched the cabin door as it closed behind him, and +then he threw back his head and such a laugh of triumph came from his +lips that even the tired beasts behind him pricked up their ears and +listened. + +And Philip, in that same moment, had solved the mystery of the golden +snare. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Philip had entered Bram Johnson's cabin from the west. Out of the east +the pale fire of the winter sun seemed to concentrate itself on the one +window of Bram's habitation, and flooded the opposite partition. In +this partition there was a doorway, and in the doorway stood a girl. + +She was standing full in the light that came through the window when +Philip saw her. His first impression was that she was clouded in the +same wonderful hair that had gone into the making of the golden snare. +It billowed over her arms and breast to her hips, aflame with the +living fires of the reflected sun. His second impression was that his +entrance had interrupted her while she was dressing and that she was +benumbed with astonishment as she stared at him. He caught the white +gleam of her bare shoulders under her hair. And then, with a shock, he +saw what was in her face. + +It turned his blood cold. It was the look of a soul that had been +tortured. Agony and doubt burned in the eyes that were looking at him. +He had never seen such eyes. They were like violet amethysts. Her face +was dead white. It was beautiful. And she was young. She was not over +twenty, it flashed upon him--but she had gone through a hell. + +"Don't let me alarm you," he said, speaking gently. "I am Philip Raine +of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police." + +It did not surprise him that she made no answer. As plainly as if she +had spoken it he had in those few swift moments read the story in her +face. His heart choked him as he waited for her lips to move. It was a +mystery to him afterward why he accepted the situation so utterly as he +stood there. He had no question to ask, and there was no doubt in his +mind. He knew that he would kill Bram Johnson when the moment arrived. + +The girl had not seemed to breathe, but now she drew in her breath in a +great gasp. He could see the sudden throb of her breast under her hair, +but the frightened light did not leave her eyes even when he repeated +the words he had spoken. Suddenly she ran to the window, and Philip saw +the grip of her hands at the sill as she looked out. Through the gate +Bram was driving his wolves. When she faced him again, her eyes had in +them the look of a creature threatened by a whip. It amazed and +startled him. As he advanced a step she cringed back from him. It +struck him then that her face was like the face of an angel--filled +with a mad horror. She reached out her bare arms to hold him back, and +a strange pleading cry came from her lips. + +The cry stopped him like a shot. He knew that she had spoken to him. +And yet he had not understood! He tore open his coat and the sunlight +fell on his bronze insignia of the Service. Its effect on her amazed +him even more than had her sudden fear of him. It occurred to him +suddenly that with a two weeks' ragged growth of beard on his face he +must look something like a beast himself. She had feared him, as she +feared Bram, until she saw the badge. + +"I am Philip Raine, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police," he repeated +again. "I have come up here especially to help you, if you need help. I +could have got Bram farther back, but there was a reason why I didn't +want him until I found his cabin. That reason was you. Why are you here +with a madman and a murderer?" + +She was watching him intently. Her eyes were on his lips, and into her +face--white a few moments before--had risen swiftly a flush of color. +He saw the dread die out of her eyes in a new and dazzling excitement. +Outside they could hear Bram. The girl turned again and looked through +the window. Then she began talking, swiftly and eagerly, in a language +that was as strange to Philip as the mystery of her presence in Bram +Johnson's cabin. She knew that he could not understand, and suddenly +she came up close to him and put a finger to his lips, and then to her +own, and shook her head. He could fairly feel the throb of her +excitement. The astounding truth held him dumb. She was trying to make +him comprehend something--in a language which he had never heard before +in all his life. He stared at her--like an idiot he told himself +afterward. + +And then the shuffle of Bram's heavy feet sounded just outside the +door. Instantly the old light leapt into the girl's eyes. Before the +door could open she had darted into the room from which she had first +appeared, her hair floating about her in a golden cloud as she ran. + +The door opened, and Bram entered. At his heels, beyond the threshold, +Philip caught a glimpse of the pack glaring hungrily into the cabin. +Bram was burdened under the load he had brought from the sledge. He +dropped it to the floor, and without looking at Philip his eyes +fastened themselves on the door to the inner room. + +They stood there for a full minute, Bram as if hypnotized by the door, +and Philip with his eyes on Bram. Neither moved, and neither made a +sound. A curtain had dropped over the entrance to the inner room, and +beyond that they could hear the girl moving about. A dozen emotions +were fighting in Philip. If he had possessed a weapon he would have +ended the matter with Bram then, for the light that was burning like a +strange flame in the wolf-man's eyes convinced him that he had guessed +the truth. Bare-handed he was no match for the giant madman. For the +first time he let his glance travel cautiously about the room. Near the +stove was a pile of firewood. A stick of this would do--when the +opportunity came. + +And then, in a way that made him almost cry out, every nerve in his +body was startled. The girl appeared in the doorway, a smile on her +lips and her eyes shining radiantly--straight at Bram! She partly held +out her arms, and began talking. She seemed utterly oblivious of +Philip's presence. Not a word that she uttered could he understand. It +was not Cree or Chippewyan or Eskimo. It was not French or German or +any tongue that he had ever heard. Her voice was pure and soft. It +trembled a little, and she was breathing quickly. But the look in her +face that had at first horrified him was no longer there. She had +braided her hair and had coiled the shining strands on the crown of her +head, and the coloring in her face was like that of a rare painting. In +these astounding moments he knew that such color and such hair did not +go with any race that had ever bred in the northland. From her face, +even as her lips spoke, he looked at Bram. The wolf-man was +transfigured. His strange eyes were shining, his heavy face was filled +with a dog-like joy, and his thick lips moved as if he was repeating to +himself what the girl was saying. + +Was it possible that he understood her? Was the strange language in +which she was speaking common between them! At first Philip thought +that it must be so--and all the horrors of the situation that he had +built up for himself fell about him in confusing disorder. The girl, as +she stood there now, seemed glad that Bram had returned; and with a +heart choking him with its suspense he waited for Bram to speak, and +act. + +When the girl ceased speaking the wolf-man's response came in a +guttural cry that was like a paean of triumph. He dropped on his knees +beside the dunnage bag and mumbling thickly as he worked he began +emptying its contents upon the floor. + +Philip looked at the girl. She was looking at him now. Her hands were +clutched at her breast, and in her face and attitude there was a +wordless entreaty for him to understand. The truth came to him like a +flash. For some reason she had forced herself to appear that way to the +wolf-man. She had forced herself to smile, forced the look of gladness +into her face, and the words from her lips. And now she was trying to +tell him what it meant, and pointing to Bram as he knelt with his huge +head and shoulders bent over the dunnage bag on the floor she exclaimed +in a low, tense voice: + +"Tossi--tossi--han er tossi!" + +It was useless. He could not understand, and it was impossible for him +to hide the bewilderment in his face. All at once an inspiration came +to him. Bram's back was toward him, and he pointed to the sticks of +firewood. His pantomime was clear. Should he knock the wolf-man's +brains out as he knelt there? + +He could see that his question sent a thrill of alarm through her. She +shook her head. Her lips formed strange words, and looking again at +Bram she repeated, "Tossi--tossi--han er tossi!" She clasped her hands +suddenly to her head then. Her slim fingers buried themselves in the +thick braids of her hair. Her eyes dilated--and suddenly understanding +flashed upon him. She was telling him what he already knew--that Bram +Johnson was mad, and he repeated after her the "Tossi-tossi," tapping +his forehead suggestively, and nodding at Bram. Yes, that was it. He +could see it in the quick intake of her breath and the sudden +expression of relief that swept over her face. She had been afraid he +would attack the wolf-man. And now she was glad that he understood he +was not to harm him. + +If the situation had seemed fairly clear to him a few minutes before it +had become more deeply mysterious than ever now. Even as the wolf-man +rose from his knees, still mumbling to himself in incoherent +exultation, the great and unanswerable question pounded in Philip's +brain: "Who was this girl, and what was she to Bram Johnson--the crazed +outlaw whom she feared and yet whom she did not wish him to harm?" + +And then he saw her staring at the things which Bram had sorted out on +the floor. In her eyes was hunger. It was a living, palpitant part of +her now as she stared at the things which Bram had taken from the +dunnage bag--as surely as Bram's madness was a part of him. As Philip +watched her he knew that slowly the curtain was rising on the tragedy +of the golden snare. In a way the look that he saw in her face shocked +him more than anything that he had seen in Bram's. It was as if, in +fact, a curtain had lifted before his eyes revealing to him an +unbelievable truth, and something of the hell through which she had +gone. She was hungry--FOR SOMETHING THAT WAS NOT FLESH! Swiftly the +thought flashed upon him why the wolf-man had traveled so far to the +south, and why he had attacked him for possession of his food supply. +It was that he might bring these things to the girl. He knew that it +was sex-pride that restrained the impulse that was pounding in every +vein of her body. She wanted to fling herself down on her knees beside +that pile of stuff--but she remembered HIM! Her eyes met his, and the +shame of her confession swept in a crimson flood into her face. The +feminine instinct told her that she had betrayed herself--like an +animal, and that he must have seen in her for a moment something that +was almost like Bram's own madness. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Until he felt the warm thrill of the girl's arm under his hand Philip +did not realize the hazard he had taken. He turned suddenly to confront +Bram. He would not have known then that the wolf-man was mad, and +impulsively he reached out a hand. + +"Bram, she's starving," he cried. "I know now why you wanted that +stuff! But why didn't you tell me! Why don't you talk, and let me know +who she is, and why she is here, and what you want me to do?" + +He waited, and Bram stared at him without a sound. + +"I tell you I'm a friend," he went on. "I--" + +He got no farther than that, for suddenly the cabin was filled with the +madness of Bram's laugh. It was more terrible than out on the open +Barren, or in the forest, and he felt the shudder of the girl at his +side. Her face was close to his shoulder, and looking down he saw that +it was white as death, but that even then she was trying to smile at +Bram. And Bram continued to laugh--and as he laughed, his eyes blazing +a greenish fire, he turned to the stove and began putting fuel into the +fire. It was horrible. Bram's laugh--the girl's dead white face, AND +HER SMILE! He no longer asked himself who she was, and why she was +there. He was overwhelmed by the one appalling fact that she WAS here, +and that the stricken soul crying out to him from the depths of those +eyes that were like wonderful blue amethysts told him that Bram had +made her pay the price. His muscles hardened as he looked at the huge +form bending over the stove. It was a splendid opportunity. A single +leap and he would be at the outlaw's throat. With that advantage, in +open combat, the struggle would at least be equal. + +The girl must have guessed what was in his mind, for suddenly her +fingers were clutching at his arm and she was pulling him away from the +wolf-man, speaking to him in the language which he could not +understand. And then Bram turned from the stove, picked up a pail, and +without looking at them left the cabin. They could hear his laugh as he +joined the wolves. + +Again Philip's conclusions toppled down about him like a thing made of +blocks. During the next few moments he knew that the girl was telling +him that Bram had not harmed her. She seemed almost hysterically +anxious to make him understand this, and at last, seizing him by the +hand, she drew him into the room beyond the curtained door. Her meaning +was quite as plain as words. She was showing him what Bram had done for +her. He had made her this separate room by running a partition across +the cabin, and in addition to this he had built a small lean-to outside +the main wall entered through a narrow door made of saplings that were +still green. He noticed that the partition was also made of fresh +timber. Except for the bunk built against the wall, a crude chair, a +sapling table and half a dozen bear skins that carpeted the floor the +room was empty. A few garments hung on the wall--a hood made of fur, a +thick mackinaw coat belted at the waist with a red scarf, and something +done up in a small bundle. + +"I guess--I begin to get your meaning," he said, looking straight into +her shining blue eyes. "You want to impress on me that I'm not to wring +Bram Johnson's neck when his back is turned, or at any other time, and +you want me to believe that he hasn't done you any harm. And yet you're +afraid to the bottom of your soul. I know it. A little while ago your +face was as white as chalk, and now--now--it's the prettiest face I've +ever seen. Now, see here, little girl--" + +It gave him a pleasant thrill to see the glow in her eyes and the eager +poise of her slim, beautiful body as she listened to him. + +"I'm licked," he went on, smiling frankly at her. "At least for the +present. Maybe I've gone loony, like Bram, and don't realize it yet. I +set out for a couple of Indians, and find a madman; and at the madman's +cabin I find YOU, looking at first as though you were facing straight +up against the door of-of-well, seeing that you can't understand I +might as well say it--OF HELL! Now, if you weren't afraid of Bram, and +if he hasn't hurt you, why did you look like that? I'm stumped. I +repeat it--dead stumped. I'd give a million dollars if I could make +Bram talk. I saw what was in his eyes. YOU saw it--and that pretty pink +went out of your face so quick it seemed as though your heart must have +stopped beating. And yet you're trying to tell me he hasn't harmed you. +My God--I wish I could believe it!" + +In her face he saw the reflection of the change that must have come +suddenly into his own. + +"You're a good fifteen hundred miles from any other human being with +hair and eyes and color like yours," he continued, as though in +speaking his thoughts aloud to her some ray of light might throw itself +on the situation. "If you had something black about you. But you +haven't. You're all gold--pink and white and gold. If Bram has another +fit of talking he may tell me you came from the moon--that a +chasse-galere crew brought you down out of space to keep house for him. +Great Scott, can't you give me some sort of an idea of who you are and +where you same from?" + +He paused for an answer--and she smiled at him. There was something +pathetically sweet in that smile. It brought a queer lump into his +throat, and for a space he forgot Bram. + +"You don't understand a cussed word of it, do you?" he said, taking her +hand in both his own and holding it closely for a moment. "Not a word. +But we're getting the drift of things--slowly. I know you've been here +quite a while, and that morning, noon and night since the chasse-galere +brought you down from the moon you've had nothing to put your little +teeth into but meat. Probably without salt, too. I saw how you wanted +to throw yourself down on that pile of stuff on the floor. Let's have +breakfast!" + +He led her into the outer room, and eagerly she set to work helping him +gather the things from the floor. He felt that an overwhelming load had +been lifted from his heart, and he continued to tell her about it while +he hurried the preparation of the breakfast for which he knew she was +hungering. He did not look at her too closely. All at once it had +dawned upon him that her situation must be tremendously more +embarrassing than his own. He felt, too, the tingle of a new excitement +in his veins. It was a pleasurable sensation, something which he did +not pause to analyze just at present. Only he knew that it was because +she had told him as plainly as she could that Bram had not harmed her. + +"And if he HAD I guess you'd have let me smash his brains out when he +was bending over the stove, wouldn't you?" he said, stirring the mess +of desiccated potato he was warming in one of his kit-pans. He looked +up to see her eyes shining at him, and her lips parted. She was +delightfully pretty. He knew that every nerve in her body was straining +to understand him. Her braid had slipped over her shoulder. It was as +thick as his wrist, and partly undone. He had never dreamed that a +woman's hair could hold such soft warm fires of velvety gold. Suddenly +he straightened himself and tapped his chest, an inspiring thought +leaping into his head. + +"I am Philip Raine," he said. "Philip Raine--Philip Raine--Philip +Raine--" + +He repeated the name over and over again, pointing each time to +himself. Instantly light flashed into her face. It was as if all at +once they had broken through the barrier that had separated them. She +repeated his name, slowly, clearly, smiling at him, and then with both +hands at her breast, she said: + +"Celie Armin." + +He wanted to jump over the stove and shake hands with her, but the +potatoes were sizzling. Celie Armin! He repeated the name as he stirred +the potatoes, and each time he spoke it she nodded. It was decidedly a +French name--but half a minute's experiment with a few simple sentences +of Pierre Breault's language convinced him that the girl understood no +word of it. + +Then he said again: + +"Celie!" + +Almost in the same breath she answered: + +"Philip!" + +Sounds outside the cabin announced the return of Bram. Following the +snarl and whine of the pack came heavy footsteps, and the wolf-man +entered. Philip did not turn his head toward the door. He did not look +at first to see what effect Bram's return had on Celie Armin. He went +on casually with his work. He even began to whistle; and then, after a +final stir or two at the potatoes, he pointed to the pail in which the +coffee was bubbling, and said: + +"Turn the coffee, Celie. We're ready!" + +He caught a glimpse of her face then. The excitement and color had +partly died out of it. She took the pail of coffee and went with it to +the table. + +Then Philip faced Bram. + +The wolf-man was standing with his back to the door. He had not moved +since entering, and he was staring at the scene before him in a dull, +stupid sort of way. In one hand he carried a pail filled with water; in +the other a frozen fish. + +"Too late with the fish, Bram," said Philip. "We couldn't make the +little lady wait. Besides, I think you've fed her on fish and meat +until she is just about ready to die. Come to breakfast!" + +He loaded a tin plate with hot potatoes, bannock-bread and rice that he +had cooked before setting out on the Barren, and placed it before the +girl. A second plate he prepared for Bram, and a third for himself. +Bram had not moved. He still held the pail and the fish in his hands. +Suddenly he lowered both to the floor with a growl that seemed to come +from the bottom of his great chest, and came to the table. With one +huge hand he seized Philip's arm. It was not a man's grip. There was +apparently no effort in it, and yet it was a vise-like clutch that +threatened to snap the bone. And all the time Bram's eyes were on the +girl. He drew Philip back, released the terrible grip on his arm, and +shoved the two extra plates of food to the girl. Then he faced Philip. + +"We eat ze meat, m'sieu!" + +Quietly and sanely he uttered the words. In his eyes and face there was +no trace of madness. And then, even as Philip stared, the change came. +The giant flung back his head and his wild, mad laugh rocked the cabin. +Out in the corral the snarl and cry of the wolves gave a savage +response to it. + +It took a tremendous effort for Philip to keep a grip on himself. In +that momentary flash of sanity Bram had shown a chivalry which must +have struck deep home in the heart of the girl. There was a sort of +triumph in her eyes when he looked at her. She knew now that he must +understand fully what she had been trying to tell him. Bram, in his +madness, had been good to her. Philip did not hesitate in the impulse +of the moment. He caught Bram's hand and shook it. And Bram, his laugh +dying away in a mumbling sound, seemed not to notice it. As Philip +began preparing the fish the wolf-man took up a position against the +farther wall, squatted Indian-fashion on his heels. He did not take his +eyes from the girl until she had finished, and Philip brought him a +half of the fried fish. He might as well have offered the fish to a +wooden sphinx. Bram rose to his feet, mumbling softly, and taking what +was left of one of the two caribou quarters he again left the cabin. + +His mad laugh and the snarling outcry of the wolves came to them a +moment later. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Scarcely had the door closed when Celie Armin ran to Philip and pulled +him to the table. In the tense half hour of Bram's watchfulness she had +eaten her own breakfast as if nothing unusual had happened; now she +insisted on adding potatoes and bannock to Philip's fish, and turned +him a cup of coffee. + +"Bless your heart, you don't want to see me beat out of a breakfast, do +you?" he smiled up at her, feeling all at once an immense desire to +pull her head down to him and kiss her. "But you don't understand the +situation, little girl. Now I've been eating this confounded +bannock"--he picked up a chunk of it to demonstrate his +point--"morning, noon and night until the sight of it makes me almost +cry for one of mother's green cucumber pickles. I'm tired of it. Bram's +fish is a treat. And this coffee, seeing that you have turned it in +that way--" + +She sat opposite him while he ate, and he had the chance of observing +her closely while his meal progressed. It struck him that she was +growing prettier each time that he looked at her, and he was more +positive than ever that she was a stranger in the northland. Again he +told himself that she was not more than twenty. Mentally he even went +so far as to weigh her and would have gambled that she would not have +tipped a scale five pounds one way or the other from a hundred and +twenty. Some time he might have seen the kind of violet-blue that was +in her eyes, but he could not remember it. She was lost--utterly lost +at this far-end of the earth. She was no more a part of it than a crepe +de chine ball dress or a bit of rose china. And there she was, sitting +opposite him, a bewitching mystery for him to solve. And she WANTED to +be solved! He could see it in her eyes, and in the little beating throb +at her throat. She was fighting, with him, to find a way; a way to tell +him who she was, and why she was here, and what he must do for her. + +Suddenly he thought of the golden snare. That, after all, he believed +to be the real key to the mystery. He rose quickly from the table and +drew the girl to the window. At the far end of the corral they could +see Bram tossing chunks of meat to the horde of beasts that surrounded +him. In a moment or two he had the satisfaction of seeing that his +companion understood that he was directing her attention to the +wolf-man and not the pack. Then he began unbraiding her hair. His +fingers thrilled at the silken touch of it. He felt his face flushing +hot under his beard, and he knew that her eyes were on him wonderingly. +A small strand he divided into three parts and began weaving into a +silken thread only a little larger than the wolf-man's snare. From, the +woven tress he pointed to Bram and in an instant her face lighted up +with understanding. + +She answered him in pantomime. Either she or Bram had cut the tress +from her head that had gone into the making of the golden snare. And +not only one tress, but several. There had been a number of golden +snares. She bowed her head and showed him where strands as large as her +little finger had been clipped in several places. + +Philip almost groaned. She was telling him nothing new, except that +there had been many snares instead of one. + +He was on the point of speech when the look in her face held him +silent. Her eyes glowed with a sudden excitement--a wild inspiration. +She held out her hands until they nearly touched his breast. + +"Philip Raine--Amerika!" she cried. + +Then, pressing her hands to her own breast, she added eagerly: + +"Celie Armin--Danmark!" + +"Denmark!" exclaimed Philip. "Is that it, little girl? You're from +Denmark? Denmark!" + +She nodded. + +"Kobenhavn--Danmark!" + +"Copenhagen, Denmark," he translated for himself. "Great Scott, +Celie--we're TALKING! Celie Armin, from Copenhagen, Denmark! But how in +Heaven's name did you get HERE?" He pointed to the floor under their +feet and embraced the four walls of the cabin in a wide gesture of his +arms. "How did you get HERE?" + +Her next words thrilled him. + +"Kobenhavn--Muskvas--St. Petersburg--Rusland--Sibirien--Amerika." + +"Copenhagen--Muskvas, whatever that is--St. +Petersburg--Russia--Siberia--America," he repeated, staring at her +incredulously. "Celie, if you love me, be reasonable! Do you expect me +to believe that you came all the way from Denmark to this God-forsaken +madman's cabin in the heart of the Canada Barrens by way of Russia and +Siberia? YOU! I can't believe it. There's a mistake somewhere. Here--" + +He thought of his pocket atlas, supplied by the department as a part of +his service kit, and remembered that in the back of it was a small map +of the world. In half a minute he had secured it and was holding the +map under her eyes. Her little forefinger touched Copenhagen. Leaning +over her shoulder, he felt her hair crumpling against his breast. He +felt an insane desire to bury his face in it and hug her up close in +his arms--for a single moment the question of whether she came from +Copenhagen or the moon was irrelevant and of little consequence. He, at +least, had found her. He was digging her out of chaos, and he was +filled with the joyous exultation of a triumphant discoverer--almost +the thrill of ownership. He held his breath as he watched the little +forefinger telling him its story on the map. + +From Copenhagen it went to Moscow--which must have been Muskvas, and +from there it trailed slowly to St. Petersburg and thence straight +across Russia and Siberia to Bering Sea. + +"Skunnert," she said softly, and her finger came across to the green +patch on the map which was Alaska. + +It hesitated there. Evidently it was a question in her own mind where +she had gone after that. At least she could not tell him on the map. +And now, seeing that he was understanding her, she was becoming visibly +excited. She pulled him to the window and pointed to the wolves. +Alaska--and after that dogs and sledge. He nodded. He was jubilant. She +was Celie Armin, of Copenhagen, Denmark, and had come to Alaska by way +of Russia and Siberia--and after that had traveled by dog-train. But +WHY had she come, and what had happened to make her the companion or +prisoner of Bram Johnson? He knew she was trying to tell him. With her +back to the window she talked to him again, gesturing with her hands, +and almost sobbing under the stress of the emotion that possessed her. +His elation turned swiftly to the old dread as he watched the change in +her face. Apprehension--a grim certainty--gripped hold of him. +Something terrible had happened to her--a thing that had racked her +soul and that filled her eyes with the blaze of a strange terror as she +struggled to make him understand. And then she broke down, and with a +sobbing cry covered her face with her hands. + +Out in the corral Philip heard Bram Johnson's laugh. It was a +mockery--a challenge. In an instant every drop of blood in his body +answered it in a surge of blind rage. He sprang to the stove, snatched +up a length of firewood, and in another moment was at the door. As he +opened it and ran out he heard Celie's wild appeal for him to stop. It +was almost a scream. Before he had taken a dozen steps from the cabin +he realized what the warning meant. The pack had seen him and from the +end of the corral came rushing at him in a thick mass. + +This time Bram Johnson's voice did not stop them. He saw Philip, and +from the doorway Celie looked upon the scene while the blood froze in +her veins. She screamed--and in the same breath came the wolf-man's +laugh. Philip heard both as he swung the stick of firewood over his +head and sent it hurling toward the pack. The chance accuracy of the +throw gave him an instant's time in which to turn and make a dash for +the cabin. It was Celie who slammed the door shut as he sprang through. +Swift as a flash she shot the bolt, and there came the lunge of heavy +bodies outside. They could hear the snapping of jaws and the snarling +whine of the beasts. Philip had never seen a face whiter than the +girl's had gone. She covered it with her hands, and he could see her +trembling. A bit of a sob broke hysterically from her lips. + +He knew of what she was thinking--the horrible thing she was hiding +from her eyes. It was plain enough to him now. Twenty seconds more and +they would have had him. And then-- + +He drew in a deep breath and gently uncovered her face. Her hands +shivered in his. And then a great throb of joy repaid him for his +venture into the jaws of death as he saw the way in which her beautiful +eyes were looking at him. + +"Celie--my little mystery girl--I've discovered something," he cried +huskily, holding her hands so tightly that it must have hurt her. "I'm +almost glad you can't understand me, for I wouldn't blame you for being +afraid of a man who told you he loved you an hour or two after he first +saw you. I love you. I've never wanted anything in all my life as I +want you. And I must be careful and not let you know it, mustn't I? If +I did you'd think I was some kind of an animal-brute--like Bram. +Wouldn't you?" + +Bram's voice came in a sharp rattle of Eskimo outside. Philip could +hear the snarling rebellion of the wolves as they slunk away from the +cabin, and he drew Celie back from the door. Suddenly she freed her +hands, ran to the door and slipped back the wooden bolt as the +wolf-man's hand fumbled at the latch. In a moment she was back at his +side. When Bram entered every muscle in Philip's body was prepared for +action. He was amazed at the wolf-man's unconcern. He was mumbling and +chuckling to himself, as if amused at what he had seen. Celie's little +fingers dug into Philip's arm and he saw in her eyes a tense, staring +look that had not been there before. It was as if in Bram's face and +his queer mumbling she had recognized something which was not apparent +to him. Suddenly she left him and hurried into her room. During the few +moments she was gone Bram did not look once at Philip. His mumbling was +incessant. Perhaps a minute passed before the girl reappeared. + +She went straight to Bram and before the wolf-man's eyes held a long, +shining tress of hair! + +Instantly the mumbling in Bram's throat ceased and he thrust out slowly +a huge misshapen hand toward the golden strand. Philip felt his nerves +stretching to the breaking point. With Bram the girl's hair was a +fetich. A look of strange exultation crept over the giant's heavy +features as his fingers clutched the golden offering. It almost drew a +cry of warning from Philip. He saw the girl smiling in the face of a +deadly peril--a danger of which she was apparently unconscious. Her +hair still fell loose about her in a thick and shimmering glory. And +BRAM'S EYES WERE ON IT AS HE TOOK THE TRESS FROM HER FINGERS! Was it +conceivable that this mad-man did not comprehend his power! Had the +thought not yet burned its way into his thick brain that a treasure +many times greater than, that which she had doled out to him lay within +the reach of his brute hands at any time he cared to reach out for it? +And was it possible that the girl did not guess her danger as she stood +there? + +What she could see of his face must have been as pale as her own when +she looked at him. She smiled, and nodded at Bram. The giant was +turning slowly toward the window, and after a moment or two in which +they could hear him mumbling softly he sat down cross-legged against +the wall, divided the tress into three silken threads and began weaving +them into a snare. The color was returning to Celie's face when Philip +looked at her again. She told him with a gesture of her head and hands +that she was going into her room for a time. He didn't blame her. The +excitement had been rather unusual. + +After she had gone he dug his shaving outfit out of his kit-bag. It +included a mirror and the reflection he saw in this mirror fairly +shocked him. No wonder the girl had been frightened at his first +appearance. It took him half an hour to shave his face clean, and all +that time Bram paid no attention to him but went on steadily at his +task of weaving the golden snare. Celie did not reappear until the +wolf-man had finished and was leaving the cabin. The first thing she +noticed was the change in Philip's face. He saw the pleasure in her +eyes and felt himself blushing. + +From the window they watched Bram. He had called his wolves and was +going with them to the gate. He carried his snowshoes and his long +whip. He went through the gate first and one by one let his beasts out +until ten of the twenty had followed him. The gate was closed then. + +Celie turned to the table and Philip saw that she had brought from her +room a pencil and a bit of paper. In a moment she held the paper out to +him, a light of triumph in her face. At last they had found a way to +talk. On the paper was a crude sketch of a caribou head. It meant that +Bram had gone hunting. + +And in going Bram had left a half of his blood-thirsty pack in the +corral. There was no longer a doubt in Philip's mind. They were not the +chance guests of this madman. They were prisoners. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +For a few minutes after the wolf-man and his hunters had gone from the +corral Philip did not move from the window. He almost forgot that the +girl was standing behind him. At no time since Pierre Breault had +revealed the golden snare had the situation been more of an enigma to +him than now. Was Bram Johnson actually mad--or was he playing a +colossal sham? The question had unleashed itself in his brain with a +suddenness that had startled him. Out of the past a voice came to him +distinctly, and it said, "A madman never forgets!" It was the voice of +a great alienist, a good friend of his, with whom he had discussed the +sanity of a man whose crime had shocked the country. He knew that the +words were true. Once possessed by an idea the madman will not forget +it. It becomes an obsession with him--a part of his existence. In his +warped brain a suspicion never dies. A fear will smolder everlastingly. +A hatred lives steadily on. + +If Bram Johnson was mad would he play the game as he was playing it +now! He had almost killed Philip for possession of the food, that the +girl might have the last crumb of it. Now, without a sign of the +madman's caution, he had left it all within his reach again. A dozen +times the flaming suspicion in his eyes had been replaced by a calm and +stupid indifference. Was the suspicion real and the stupidity a clever +dissimulation? And if dissimulation--why? + +He was positive now that Bram had not harmed the girl in the way he had +dreaded. Physical desire had played no part in the wolf-man's +possession of her. Celie had made him understand that;--and yet in +Bram's eyes he had caught a look now and then that was like the dumb +worship of a beast. Only once had that look been anything +different--and that was when Celie had given him a tress of her hair. +Even the suspicion roused in him then was gone now, for if passion and +desire were smoldering in the wolf-man's breast he would not have +brought a possible rival to the cabin, nor would he have left them +alone together. + +His mind worked swiftly as he stared unseeing out into the corral. He +would no longer play the part of a pawn. Thus far Bram had held the +whip hand. Now he would take it from him no matter what mysterious +protestation the girl might make! The wolf-man had given him a dozen +opportunities to deliver the blow that would make him a prisoner. He +would not miss the next. + +He faced Celie with the gleam of this determination in his eyes. She +had been watching him intently and he believed that she had guessed a +part of his thoughts. His first business was to take advantage of +Brain's absence to search the cabin. He tried to make Celie understand +what his intentions were as he began. + +"You may have done this yourself," he told her. "No doubt you have. +There probably isn't a corner you haven't looked into. But I have a +hunch I may find something you missed--something interesting." + +She followed him closely. He began at each wall and went over it +carefully, looking for possible hiding places. Then he examined the +floor for a loose sapling. At the end of half an hour his discoveries +amounted to nothing. He gave an exclamation of satisfaction when under +an old blanket in a dusty corner he found a Colt army revolver. But it +was empty, and he found no cartridges. At last there was nothing left +to search but the wolf-man's bunk. At the bottom of this he found what +gave him his first real thrill--three of the silken snares made from +Celie Armin's hair. + +"We won't touch them," he said after a moment, replacing the bear skin +that had covered them. "It's good etiquette up here not to disturb +another man's cache and that's Bram's. I can't imagine any one but a +madman doing that. And yet--" + +He looked suddenly at Celie. + +"Do you suppose he was afraid of YOU?" he asked her. "Is that why he +doesn't leave even the butcher-knife in this shack? Was he afraid you +might shoot him in his sleep if he left the temptation in your way?" + +A commotion among the wolves drew him to the window. Two of the beasts +were fighting. While his back was turned Celie entered her room and +returned a moment or two later with a handful of loose bits of paper. +The pack held Philip's attention. He wondered what chance he would have +in an encounter with the beasts which Bram had left behind as a guard. +Even if he killed Bram or made him a prisoner he would still have that +horde of murderous brutes to deal with. If he could in some way induce +the wolf-man to bring his rifle into the cabin the matter would be +easy. With Bram out of the way he could shoot the wolves one by one +from the window. Without a weapon their situation would be hopeless. +The pack--with the exception of one huge, gaunt beast directly under +the window--had swung around the end of the cabin out of his vision. +The remaining wolf in spite of the excitement of battle was gnawing +hungrily at a bone. Philip could hear the savage grind of its powerful +jaws, and all at once the thought of how they might work out their +salvation flashed upon him. They could starve the wolves! It would take +a week, perhaps ten days, but with Bram out of the way and the pack +helplessly imprisoned within the corral it could be done. His first +impulse now was to impress on Celie the necessity of taking physical +action against Bram. + +The sound of his own name turned him from the window with a sudden +thrill. + +If the last few minutes had inspired an eagerness for action in his own +mind he saw at a glance that something equally exciting had possessed +Celie Armin. Spread out on the table were the bits of paper she had +brought from her room, and, pointing to them, she again called him by +name. That she was laboring under a new and unusual emotion impressed +him immediately. He could see that she was fighting to restrain an +impulse to pour out in words what would have been meaningless to him, +and that she was telling him the bits of paper were to take the place +of voice. For one swift moment as he advanced to the table the papers +meant less to him than the fact that she had twice spoken his name. Her +soft lips seemed to whisper it again as she pointed, and the look in +her eyes and the poise of her body recalled to him vividly the picture +of her as he had first seen her in the cabin. He looked at the bits of +paper. There were fifteen or twenty pieces, and on each was sketched a +picture. + +He heard a low catch in Celie's breath as he bent over them, and his +own pulse quickened. A glance was sufficient to show him that with the +pictures Celie was trying to tell him what he wanted to know. They told +her own story--who she was, why she was at Bram Johnson's cabin, and +how she had come. This, at least, was the first thought that impressed +him. He observed then that the bits of paper were soiled and worn as +though they had been handled a great deal. He made no effort to +restrain the exclamation that followed this discovery. + +"You drew these pictures for Bram," he scanning them more carefully. +"That settles one thing. Bram doesn't know much more about you than, I +do. Ships, and dogs, and men--and fighting--a lot of fighting--and--" + +His eyes stopped at one of the pictures and his heart gave a sudden +excited thump. He picked up the bit of paper which had evidently been +part of a small sack. Slowly he turned to the girl and met her eyes. +She was trembling in her eagerness for him to understand. + +"That is YOU," he said, tapping the central figure in the sketch, and +nodding at her. "You--with your hair down, and fighting a bunch of men +who look as though they were about to beat your brains out with clubs! +Now--what in God's name does it mean? And here's a ship up in the +corner. That evidently came first. You landed from that ship, didn't +you? From the ship--the ship--the ship--" + +"Skunnert!" she cried softly, touching the ship with her finger. +"Skunnert--Sibirien!" + +"Schooner-Siberia," translated Philip. "It sounds mightily like that, +Celie. Look here--" He opened his pocket atlas again at the map of the +world. "Where did you start from, and where did you come ashore? If we +can get at the beginning of the thing--" + +She had bent her head over the crook of his arm, so that in her eager +scrutiny of the map his lips for a moment or two touched the velvety +softness of her hair. Again he felt the exquisite thrill of her touch, +the throb of her body against him, the desire to take her in his arms +and hold her there. And then she drew back a little, and her finger was +once more tracing out its story on the map. The ship had started from +the mouth of the Lena River, in Siberia, and had followed the coast to +the blue space that marked the ocean above Alaska. And there the little +finger paused, and with a hopeless gesture Celie intimated that was all +she knew. From somewhere out of that blue patch the ship had touched +the American shore. One after another she took up from the table the +pieces of paper that carried on the picture-story from that point. It +was, of course, a broken and disjointed story. But as it progressed +every drop of blood in Philip's body was stirred by the thrill and +mystery of it. Celie Armin had traveled from Denmark through Russia to +the Lena River in Siberia, and from there a ship had brought her to the +coast of North America. There had been a lot of fighting, the +significance of which he could only guess at; and now, at the end, the +girl drew for Philip another sketch in which a giant and a horde of +beasts appeared. It was a picture of Bram and his wolves, and at last +Philip understood why she did not want him to harm the wolf-man. Bram +had saved her from the fate which the pictures only partly portrayed +for him. He had brought her far south to his hidden stronghold, and for +some reason which the pictures failed to disclose was keeping her a +prisoner there. + +Beyond these things Celie Armin was still a mystery. + +Why had she gone to Siberia? What had brought her to the barren Arctic +coast of America? Who were the mysterious enemies from whom Bram the +madman had saved her? And who--who-- + +He looked again at one of the pictures which he had partly crumpled in +his hand. On it were sketched two people. One was a figure with her +hair streaming down--Celie herself. The other was a man. The girl had +pictured herself close in the embrace of this man's arms. Her own arms +encircled the man's neck. From the picture Philip had looked at Celie, +and the look he had seen in her eyes and face filled his heart with a +leaden chill. It was more than hope that had flared up in his breast +since he had entered Bram Johnson's cabin. And now that hope went +suddenly out, and with its extinguishment he was oppressed by a deep +and gloomy foreboding. + +He went slowly to the window and looked out. + +The next moment Celie was startled by the sudden sharp cry that burst +from his lips. Swiftly she ran to his side. He had dropped the paper. +His hands were gripping the edge of the sill, and he was staring like +one who could not believe his own eyes. + +"Good God--look! Look at that!" + +They had heard no sound outside the cabin during the last few minutes. +Yet under their eyes, stretched out in the soiled and trampled snow, +lay the wolf that a short time before had been gnawing a bone. The +animal was stark dead. Not a muscle of its body moved. Its lips were +drawn back, its jaws agape, and under the head was a growing smear of +blood. It was not these things--not the fact but the INSTRUMENT of +death that held Philip's eyes. The huge wolf had been completely +transfixed by a spear. + +Instantly Philip recognized it--the long, slender, javelin-like narwhal +harpoon used by only one people in the world, the murderous little +black-visaged Kogmollocks of Coronation Gulf and Wollaston Land. + +He sprang suddenly back from the window, dragging Celie with him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +"Kogmollocks--the blackest-hearted little devils alive when it comes to +trading wives and fighting," said Philip, a little ashamed of the +suddenness with which he had jumped back from the window. "Excuse my +abruptness, dear. But I'd recognize that death-thing on the other side +of the earth. I've seen them throw it like an arrow for a hundred +yards--and I have a notion they're watching that window!" + +At sight of the dead wolf and the protruding javelin Celie's face had +gone as white as ash. Snatching up one of the pictures from the table, +she thrust it into Philip's hand. It was one of the fighting pictures. + +"So it's YOU?" he said, smiling at her and trying to keep the tremble +of excitement out of his voice. "It's you they want, eh? And they must +want you bad. I've never heard of those little devils coming within a +hundred miles of this far south. They MUST want you bad. Now--I wonder +WHY?" His voice was calm again. It thrilled him to see how utterly she +was judging the situation by the movement of his lips and the sound of +his voice. With him unafraid she would be unafraid. He judged that +quickly. Her eyes bared her faith in him, and suddenly he reached out +and took her face between his two hands, and laughed softly, while each +instant he feared the smash of a javelin through the window. "I like to +see that look in your eyes," he went on. "And I'm almost glad you can't +understand me, for I couldn't lie to you worth a cent. I understand +those pictures now--and I think we're in a hell of a fix. The Eskimos +have followed you and Bram down from the north, and I'm laying a wager +with myself that Bram won't return from the caribou hunt. If they were +Nunatalmutes or any other tribe I wouldn't be so sure. But they're +Kogmollocks. They're worse than the little brown head-hunters of the +Philippines when it comes to ambush, and if Bram hasn't got a spear +through him this minute I'll never guess again!" He withdrew his hands +from her face, still smiling at her as he talked. The color was +returning into her face. Suddenly she made a movement as if to approach +the window. He detained her, and in the same moment there came a fierce +and snarling outcry from the wolves in the corral. Making Celie +understand that she was to remain where he almost forcibly placed her +near the table, Philip went again to the window. The pack had gathered +close to the gate and two or three of the wolves were leaping excitedly +against the sapling bars of their prison. Between the cabin and the +gate a second body lay in the snow. Philip's mind leapt to a swift +conclusion. The Eskimos had ambushed Bram, and they believed that only +the girl was in the cabin. Intuitively he guessed how the superstitious +little brown men of the north feared the madman's wolves. One by one +they were picking them off with their javelins from outside the corral. + +As he looked a head and pair of shoulders rose suddenly above the top +of the sapling barrier, an arm shot out and he caught the swift gleam +of a javelin as it buried itself in the thick of the pack. In a flash +the head and shoulders of the javelin-thrower had disappeared, and in +that same moment Philip heard a low cry behind him. Celie had returned +to the window. She had seen what he had seen, and her breath came +suddenly in a swift and sobbing excitement. In amazement he saw that +she was no longer pale. A vivid flush had gathered in each of her +cheeks and her eyes blazed with a dark fire. One of her hands caught +his arm and her fingers pinched his flesh. He stared dumbly for a +moment at the strange transformation in her. He almost believed that +she wanted to fight--that she was ready to rush out shoulder to +shoulder with him against their enemies. Scarcely had the cry fallen +from her lips when she turned and ran swiftly into her room. It seemed +to Philip that she was not gone ten seconds. When she returned she +thrust into his hand a revolver. + +It was a toy affair. The weight and size of the weapon told him that +before he broke it and looked at the caliber. It was a "stocking" gun +as they called those things in the service, fully loaded with .22 +caliber shots and good for a possible partridge at fifteen or twenty +paces. Under other conditions it would have furnished him with +considerable amusement. But the present was not yesterday or the day +before. It was a moment of grim necessity--and the tiny weapon gave him +the satisfaction of knowing that he was not entirely helpless against +the javelins. It would shoot as far as the stockade, and it might +topple a man over if he hit him just right. Anyway, it would make a +noise. + +A noise! The grin that had come into his face died out suddenly as he +looked at Celie. He wondered if to her had come the thought that now +flashed upon him--if it was that thought that had made her place the +revolver in his hand. The blaze of excitement in her wonderful eyes +almost told him that it was. With Bram gone, the Eskimos believed she +was alone and at their mercy as soon as the wolves were out of the way. +Two or three shots from the revolver--and Philip's appearance in the +corral--would shake their confidence. It would at least warn them that +Celie was not alone, and that her protector was armed. For that reason +Philip thanked the Lord that a "stocking" gun had a bark like the +explosion of a toy cannon even if its bite was like that of an insect. + +Cautiously he took another look at Bram's wolves. The last javelin had +transfixed another of their number and the animal was dragging itself +toward the center of the corral. The remaining seven were a dozen yards +on the other side of the gate now, leaping and snarling at the +stockade, and he knew that the next attack would come from there. He +sprang to the door. Celie was only a step behind him as he ran out, and +was close at his side when he peered around the end of the cabin. + +"They must not see you," he made her understand. "It won't do any good +and when they see another man they may possibly get the idea in their +heads that you're not here. There can't be many of them or they'd make +quicker work of the wolves. I should say not more than--" + +"Se! Se!" + +The warning came in a low cry from Celie's lips. A dark head was +appearing slowly above the top of the stockade, and Philip darted +suddenly out into the open. The Eskimo did not see him, and Philip +waited until he was on the point of hurling his javelin before he made +a sound. Then he gave a roar that almost split his throat. In the same +instant he began firing. The crack of his pistol and the ferocious +outcry he made sent the Eskimo off the stockade like a ball hit by a +club. The pack, maddened by their inability to reach their enemies, +turned like a flash. Warned by one experience, Philip hustled Celie +into the cabin. They were scarcely over the threshold when the wolves +were at the door. + +"We're sure up against a nice bunch," he laughed, standing for a moment +with his arm still about Celie's waist. "A regular hell of a bunch, +little girl! Now if those wolves only had sense enough to know that +we're a little brother and sister to Bram, we'd be able to put up a +fight that would be some circus. Did you see that fellow topple off the +fence? Don't believe I hit him. At least I hope I didn't. If they ever +find out the size of this pea-shooter's sting they'll sit up there like +a row of crows and laugh at us. But--what a bully NOISE it made!" + +He was blissfully unmindful of danger as he held her in the crook of +his arm, looking straight into her lovely face as he talked. It was a +moment of splendid hypocrisy. He knew that in her excitement and the +tremendous effort she was making to understand something of what he was +saying that she was unconscious of his embrace. That, and the joyous +thrill of the situation, sent the hot blood into his face. + +"I'm dangerously near to going the limit," he told her, speaking with a +seriousness that would impress her. "I'd fight twenty of those little +devils single-handed to know just how you'd take it, and I'd fight +another dozen to know who that fellow is in the picture. I'm tempted +right now to hug you up close, and kiss you, and let you know how I +feel. I'd like to do that--before--anything happens. But would you +understand? That's it--would you understand that I love every inch of +you from the ground up or would you think I was just beast? That's what +I'm afraid of. But I'd like to let you know before I have to put up the +big fight for you. And it's coming--if they've got Bram. They'll break +down the gate to-night, or burn it, and with the wolves out of the way +they'll rush the cabin. And then--" + +Slowly he drew his arm from her, and something of the reaction of his +thoughts must have betrayed itself in the look that came into his face. + +"I guess I've already pulled off a rotten deal on the other fellow," he +said, turning to the window. "That is, if you belong to him. And if you +didn't why would you stand there with your arms about his neck and he +hugging you up like that!" + +A few minutes before he had crumpled the picture in his hand and +dropped it on the floor. He picked it up now and mechanically smoothed +it out as he made his observation, through the window. The pack had +returned to the stockade. By the aimless manner in which they had +scattered he concluded that for the time at least their mysterious +enemies had drawn away from the corral. + +Celie had not moved. She was watching him earnestly. It seemed to him, +as he went to her with the picture, that a new and anxious questioning +had come into her eyes. It was as if she had discovered something in +him which she had not observed before, something which she was trying +to analyze even as he approached her. He felt for the first time a +sense of embarrassment. Was it possible that she had comprehended some +word or thought of what he had expressed to her? He could not believe +it And yet, a woman's intuition-- + +He held out the picture. Celie took it and for a space looked at it +steadily without raising her eyes to meet his. When she did look at him +the blue in her eyes was so wonderful and deep and the soul that looked +out of them was so clear to his own vision that the shame of that +moment's hypocrisy when he had stood with his arm about her submerged +him completely. If she had not understood him she at least HAD GUESSED. + +"Min fader," she said quietly, with the tip of her little forefinger on +the man in the picture. "Min fader." + +For a moment he thought she had spoken in English. + +"Your--your father?" he cried. + +She nodded. + +"Oo-ee-min fader!" + +"Thank the Lord," gasped Philip. And then he suddenly added, "Celie, +have you any more cartridges for this pop-gun? I feel like licking the +world!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +He tried to hide his jubilation as he talked of more cartridges. He +forgot Bram, and the Eskimos waiting outside the corral, and the +apparent hopelessness of their situation. HER FATHER! He wanted to +shout, or dance around the cabin with Celie in his arms. But the change +that he had seen come over her made him understand that he must keep +hold of himself. He dreaded to see another light come into those +glorious blue eyes that had looked at him with such a strange and +questioning earnestness a few moments before--the fire of suspicion, +perhaps even of fear if he went too far. He realized that he had +betrayed his joy when she had said that the man in the picture was her +father. She could not have missed that. And he was not sorry. For him. +there was an unspeakable thrill in the thought that to a woman, no +matter under what sun she is born, there is at least one emotion whose +understanding needs no words of speech. And as he had talked to her, +sublimely confident that she could not understand him, she had read the +betrayal in his face. He was sure of it. And so he talked about +cartridges. He talked, he told himself afterwards, like an excited +imbecile. + +There were no more cartridges. Celie made him understand that. All they +possessed were the four that remained in the revolver. As a matter of +fact this discovery did not disturb him greatly. At close quarters he +would prefer a good club to the pop-gun. Such a club, in the event of a +rush attack by the Eskimos, was an important necessity, and he began +looking about the cabin to see what he could lay his hands on. He +thought of the sapling cross-pieces in Bram's bunk against the wall and +tore one out. It was four feet in length and as big around as his fist +at one end while at the other it tapered down so that he could grip it +easily with his hands. + +"Now we're ready for them," he said, testing the poise and swing of the +club as he stood in the center of the room. "Unless they burn us out +they'll never get through that door. I'm promising you that--s'elp me +God I am, Celie!" + +As she looked at him a flush burned in her cheeks. He was eager to +fight--it seemed to her that he was almost hoping for the attack at the +door. It made her splendidly unafraid, and suddenly she laughed +softly--a nervous, unexpected little laugh which she could not hold +back, and he turned quickly to catch the warm glow in her eyes. +Something went up into his throat as she stood there looking at him +like that. He had never seen any one quite so beautiful. He dropped his +club, and held out his hand. + +"Let's shake, Celie," he said. "I'm mighty glad you understand--we're +pals." + +Unhesitatingly she gave him her hand, and in spite of the fact that +death lurked outside they smiled into each other's eyes. After that she +went into her room. For half an hour Philip did not see her again. + +During that half hour he measured up the situation more calmly. He +realized that the exigency was tremendously serious, and that until now +he had not viewed it with the dispassionate coolness that characterized +the service of the uniform he wore. Celie was accountable for that. He +confessed the fact to himself, not without a certain pleasurable +satisfaction. He had allowed her presence, and his thoughts of her, to +fill the adventure completely for him, and as a result they were now +facing an appalling danger. If he had followed his own judgment, and +had made Bram Johnson a prisoner, as he should have done in his line of +duty, matters would have stood differently. + +For several minutes after Celie had disappeared into her room he +studied the actions of the wolves in the corral. A short time before he +had considered a method of ridding himself of Bram's watchful beasts. +Now he regarded them as the one greatest protection they possessed. +There were seven left. He was confident they would give warning the +moment the Eskimos approached the stockade again. But would their +enemies return? The fact that only one man had attacked the wolves at a +time was almost convincing evidence that they were very few in +number--perhaps only a scouting party of three or four. Otherwise, if +they had come in force, they would have made short work of the pack. +The thought became a positive conviction as he looked through the +window. Bram had fallen a victim to a single javelin, and the scouting +party of Kogmollocks had attempted to complete their triumph by +carrying Celie back with them to the main body. Foiled in this attempt, +and with the knowledge that a new and armed enemy opposed them, they +were possibly already on their way for re-enforcements. + +If this were so there could be but one hope--and that was an immediate +escape from the cabin. And between the cabin door and the freedom of +the forest were Bram's seven wolves! + +A feeling of disgust, almost of anger, swept over him as he drew +Celie's little revolver from his pocket and held it in the palm of his +hand. There were four cartridges left. But what would they avail +against that horde of beasts! They would stop them no more than so many +pin-pricks. And what even would the club avail? Against two or three he +might put up a fight. But against seven-- + +He cursed Bram under his breath. It was curious that in that same +instant the thought flashed upon him that the wolf-man might not have +fallen a victim to the Eskimos. Was it not possible that the spying +Kogmollocks had seen him go away on the hunt, and had taken advantage +of the opportunity to attack the cabin? They had evidently thought +their task would be an easy one. What Philip saw through the window set +his pulse beating quickly with the belief that this last conjecture was +the true one. The world outside was turning dark. The sky was growing +thick and low. In half an hour a storm would break. The Eskimos had +foreseen that storm. They knew that the trail taken in their flight, +after they had possessed themselves of the girl, would very soon be +hidden from the eyes of Bram and the keen scent of his wolves. So they +had taken the chance--the chance to make Celie their prisoner before +Bram returned. + +And why, Philip asked himself, did these savage little barbarians of +the north want HER? The fighting she had pictured for him had not +startled him. For a long time the Kogmollocks had been making trouble. +In the last year they had killed a dozen white men along the upper +coast, including two American explorers and a missionary. Three patrols +had been sent to Coronation Gulf and Bathurst Inlet since August. With +the first of those patrols, headed by Olaf Anderson, the Swede, he had +come within an ace of going himself. A rumor had come down to Churchill +just before he left for the Barrens that Olaf's party of five men had +been wiped out. It was not difficult to understand why the Eskimos had +attacked Celie Armin's father and those who had come ashore with him +from the ship. It was merely a question of lust for white men's blood +and white men's plunder, and strangers in their country would naturally +be regarded as easy victims. The mysterious and inexplicable part of +the affair was their pursuit of the girl. In this pursuit the +Kogmollocks had come far beyond the southernmost boundary of their +hunting grounds. Philip was sufficiently acquainted with the Eskimos to +know that in their veins ran very little of the red-blooded passion of +the white man. Matehood was more of a necessity imposed by nature than +a joy in their existence, and it was impossible for him to believe that +even Celie Armin's beauty had roused the desire for possession among +them. + +His attention turned to the gathering of the storm. The amazing +swiftness with which the gray day was turning into the dark gloom of +night fascinated him and he almost called to Celie that she might look +upon the phenomenon with him. It was piling in from the vast Barrens to +the north and east and for a time it was accompanied by a stillness +that was oppressive. He could no longer distinguish a movement in the +tops of the cedars and banskian pine beyond the corral. In the corral +itself he caught now and then the shadowy, flitting movement of the +wolves. He did not hear Celie when she came out of her room. So +intently was he straining his eyes to penetrate the thickening pall of +gloom that he was unconscious of her presence until she stood close at +his side. There was something in the awesome darkening of the world +that brought them closer in that moment, and without speaking Philip +found her hand and held it in his own. They heard then a low whispering +sound--a sound that came creeping up out of the end of the world like a +living thing; a whisper so vast that, after a little, it seemed to fill +the universe, growing louder and louder until it was no longer a +whisper but a moaning, shrieking wail. It was appalling as the first +blast of it swept over the cabin. No other place in the world is there +storm like the storm that sweeps over the Great Barren; no other place +in the world where storm is filled with such a moaning, shrieking +tumult of VOICE. It was not new to Philip. He had heard it when it +seemed to him that ten thousand little children were crying under the +rolling and twisting onrush of the clouds; he had heard it when it +seemed to him the darkness was filled with an army of laughing, +shrieking madmen--storm out of which rose piercing human shrieks and +the sobbing grief of women's voices. It had driven people mad. Through +the long dark night of winter, when for five months they caught no +glimpse of the sun, even the little brown Eskimos went keskwao and +destroyed themselves because of the madness that was in that storm. + +And now it swept over the cabin, and in Celie's throat there rose a +little sob. So swiftly had darkness gathered that Philip could no +longer see her, except where her face made a pale shadow in the gloom, +but he could feel the tremble of her body against him. Was it only this +morning that he had first seen her, he asked himself? Was it not a +long, long time ago, and had she not in that time become, flesh and +soul, a part of him? He put out his arms. Warm and trembling and +unresisting in that thick gloom she lay within them. His soul rose in a +wild ecstasy and rode on the wings of the storm. Closer he held her +against his breast, and he said: + +"Nothing can hurt you, dear. Nothing--nothing--" + +It was a simple and meaningless thing to say--that, and only that. And +yet he repeated it over and over again, holding her closer and closer +until her heart was throbbing against his own. "Nothing can hurt you. +Nothing--nothing--" + +He bent his head. Her face was turned up to him, and suddenly he was +thrilled by the warm sweet touch of her lips. He kissed her. She did +not strain away from him. He felt--in that darkness--the wild fire in +her face. + +"Nothing can hurt you, nothing--nothing--" he cried almost sobbingly in +his happiness. + +Suddenly there came a blast of the storm that rocked the cabin like the +butt of a battering-ram, and in that same moment there came from just +outside the window a shrieking cry such as Philip had never heard in +all his life before. And following the cry there rose above the tumult +of the storm the howling of Bram Johnson's wolves. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +For a space Philip thought that the cry must have come from Bram +Johnson himself--that the wolf-man had returned in the pit of the +storm. Against his breast Celie had apparently ceased to breathe. Both +listened for a repetition of the sound, or for a signal at the barred +door. It was strange that in that moment the wind should die down until +they could hear the throbbing of their own hearts. Celie's was pounding +like a little hammer, and all at once he pressed his face down against +hers and laughed with sudden and joyous understanding. + +"It was only the wind, dear," he said. "I never heard anything like it +before--never! It even fooled the wolves. Bless your dear little heart +how it frightened you! And it was enough, too. Shall we light some of +Bram's candles?" + +He held her hand as he groped his way to where he had seen Bram's +supply of bear-dips. She held two of the candles while he lighted them +and their yellow flare illumined her face while his own was still in +shadow. What he saw in its soft glow and the shine of her eyes made him +almost take her in his arms again, candles and all. And then she turned +with them and went to the table. He continued to light candles until +the sputtering glow of half a dozen of them filled the room. It was a +wretched wastefulness, but it was also a moment in which he felt +himself fighting to get hold of himself properly. And he felt also the +desire to be prodigal about something. When he had lighted his sixth +candle, and then faced Celie, she was standing near the table looking +at him so quietly and so calmly and with such a wonderful faith in her +eyes that he thanked God devoutly he had kissed her only once--just +that once! It was a thrilling thought to know that SHE knew he loved +her. There was no doubt of it now. And the thought of what he might +have done in that darkness and in the moment of her helplessness +sickened him. He could look her straight in the eyes now--unashamed and +glad. And she was unashamed, even if a little flushed at what had +happened. The same thought was in their minds--and he knew that she was +not sorry. Her eyes and the quivering tremble of a smile on her lips +told him that. She had braided her hair in that interval when she had +gone to her room, and the braid had fallen over her breast and lay +there shimmering softly in the candle-glow. He wanted to take her in +his arms again. He wanted to kiss her on the mouth and eyes. But +instead of that he took the silken braid gently in his two hands and +crushed it against his lips. + +"I love you," he cried softly. "I love you." + +He stood for a moment or two with his head bowed, the thrill of her +hair against his face. It was as if he was receiving some kind of a +wonderful benediction. And then in a voice that trembled a little she +spoke to him. Before he could see fully what was in her eyes she turned +suddenly to the wall, took down his coat, and hung it over the window. +When he saw her face again it was gloriously flushed. She pointed to +the candles. + +"No danger of that," he said, comprehending her. "They won't throw any +javelins in this storm. Listen!" + +It was the wolves again. In a moment their cry was drowned in a crash +of the storm that smote the cabin like a huge hand. Again it was +wailing over them in a wild orgy of almost human tumult. He could see +its swift effect on Celie in spite of her splendid courage. It was not +like the surge of mere wind or the roll of thunder. Again he was +inspired by thought of his pocket atlas, and opened it at the large +insert map of Canada. + +"I'll show you why the wind does that," he explained to her, drawing +her to the table and spreading out the map. "See, here is the cabin." +He made a little black dot with her pencil, and turning to the four +walls of Bram's stronghold made her understand what it meant. "And +there's the big Barren," he went on, tracing it out with the +pencil-point. "Up here, you see, is the Arctic Ocean, and away over +there the Roes Welcome and Hudson's Bay. That's where the storm starts, +and when it gets out on the Barren, without a tree or a rock to break +its way for five hundred miles--" + +He told of the twisting air-currents there and how the storm-clouds +sometimes swept so low that they almost smothered one. For a few +moments he did not look at Celie or he would have seen something in her +face which could not have been because of what he was telling her, and +which she could at best only partly understand. She had fixed her eyes +on the little black dot. THAT was the cabin. For the first time the map +told her where she was, and possibly how she had arrived there. +Straight down to that dot from the blue space of the ocean far to the +north the map-makers had trailed the course of the Coppermine River. +Celie gave an excited little cry and caught Philip's arm, stopping him +short in his explanation of the human wailings in the storm. Then she +placed a forefinger on the river. + +"There--there it is!" she told him, as plainly as though her voice was +speaking to him in his own language. "We came down that river. The +Skunnert landed us THERE," and she pointed to the mouth of the +Coppermine where it emptied into Coronation Gulf. "And then we came +down, down, down--" + +He repeated the name of the river. + +"THE COPPERMINE." + +She nodded, her breath breaking a little in an increasing excitement. +She seized the pencil and two-thirds of the distance down the +Coppermine made a cross. It was wonderful, he thought, how easily she +made him understand. In a low, eager voice she was telling him that +where she had put the cross the treacherous Kogmollocks had first +attacked them. She described with the pencil their flight away from the +river, and after that their return--and a second fight. It was then +Bram Johnson had come into the scene. And back there, at the point from +which the wolf-man had fled with her, was her FATHER. That was the +chief thing she was striving to drive home in his comprehension of the +situation. Her FATHER! And she believed he was alive, for it was an +excitement instead of hopelessness or grief that possessed her as she +talked to him. It gave him a sort of shock. He wanted to tell her, with +his arms about her, that it was impossible, and that it was his duty to +make her realize the truth. Her father was dead now, even if she had +last seen him alive. The little brown men had got him, and had +undoubtedly hacked him into small pieces, as was their custom when +inspired by war-madness. It was inconceivable to think of him as still +being alive even if there had been armed friends with him. There was +Olaf Anderson and his five men, for instance. Fighters every one of +them. And now they were dead. What chance could this other man have? + +Her joy when she saw that he understood her added to the uncertainty +which was beginning to grip him in spite of all that the day had meant +for him. Her faith in him, since that thrilling moment in the darkness, +was more than ever like that of a child. She was unafraid of Bram now. +She was unafraid of the wolves and the storm and the mysterious +pursuers from out of the north. Into his keeping she had placed herself +utterly, and while this knowledge filled him with a great happiness he +was now disturbed by the fact that, if they escaped from the cabin and +the Eskimos, she believed he would return with her down the Coppermine +in an effort to find her father. He had already made the plans for +their escape and they were sufficiently hazardous. Their one chance was +to strike south across the thin arm of the Barren for Pierre Breault's +cabin. To go in the opposite direction--farther north without dogs or +sledge--would be deliberate suicide. + +Several times during the afternoon he tried to bring himself to the +point of urging on her the naked truth--that her father was dead. There +was no doubt of that--not the slightest. But each time he fell a little +short. Her confidence in the belief that her father was alive, and that +he was where she had marked the cross on the map, puzzled him. Was it +conceivable, he asked himself, that the Eskimos had some reason for NOT +killing Paul Armin, and that Celie was aware of the fact? If so he +failed to discover it. Again and again he made Celie understand that he +wanted to know why the Eskimos wanted HER, and each time she answered +him with a hopeless little gesture, signifying that she did not know. +He did learn that there were two other white men with Paul Armin. + +Only by looking at his watch did he know when the night closed in. It +was seven o'clock when he led Celie to her room and urged her to go to +bed. An hour later, listening at her door, he believed that she was +asleep. He had waited for that, and quietly he prepared for the +hazardous undertaking he had set for himself. He put on his cap and +coat and seized the club he had taken from Bram's bed. Then very +cautiously he opened the outer door. A moment later he stood outside, +the door closed behind him, with the storm pounding in his face. + +Fifty yards away he could not have heard the shout of a man. And yet he +listened, gripping his club hard, every nerve in his body strained to a +snapping tension. Somewhere within that small circle of the corral were +Bram Johnson's wolves, and as he hesitated with his back to the door he +prayed that there would come no lull in the storm during the next few +minutes. It was possible that he might evade them with the crash and +thunder of the gale about him. They could not see him, or hear him, or +even smell him in that tumult of wind unless on his way to the gate he +ran into them. In that moment he would have given a year of life to +have known where they were. Still listening, still fighting to hear +some sound of them in the shriek of the storm, he took his first step +out into the pit of darkness. He did not run, but went as cautiously as +though the night was a dead calm, the club half poised in his hands. He +had measured the distance and the direction of the gate and when at +last he touched the saplings of the stockade he knew that he could not +be far off in his reckoning. Ten paces to the right he found the gate +and his heart gave a sudden jump of relief. Half a minute more and it +was open. He propped it securely against the beat of the storm with the +club he had taken from Bram Johnson's bed. + +Then he turned back to the cabin, with the little revolver clutched in +his hand, and his face was strained and haggard when he found the door +and returned again into the glow of the candle-light. In the center of +the room, her face as white as his own, stood Celie. A great fear must +have gripped her, for she stood there in her sleeping gown with her +hands clutched at her breast, her eyes staring at him in speechless +questioning. He explained by opening the door a bit and pantomiming to +the gate outside the cabin. + +"The wolves will be gone in the morning," he said, a ring of triumph in +his voice. "I have opened the gate. There is nothing in our way now." + +She understood. Her eyes were a glory to look into then. Her fingers +unclenched at her breast, she gave a short, quick breath and a little +cry--and her arms almost reached out to him. He was afraid of himself +as he went to her and led her again to the door of her room. And there +for a moment they paused, and she looked up into his face. Her hand +crept from his and went softly to his shoulder. She said something to +him, almost in a whisper, and he could no longer fight against the +pride and the joy and the faith he saw in her eyes. He bent down, +slowly so that she might draw away from him if she desired, and kissed +her upturned lips. And then, with a strange little cry that was like +the soft note of a bird, she turned from him and disappeared into the +darkness of her room. + +A great deal of that night's storm passed over his head unheard after +that. It was late when he went to bed. He crowded Bram's long box-stove +with wood before he extinguished the last candle. + +And for an hour after that he lay awake, thinking of Celie and of the +great happiness that had come into his life all in one day. During that +hour he made the plans of a lifetime. Then he, too, fell into sleep--a +restless, uneasy slumber filled with many visions. For a time there had +come a lull in the gale, but now it broke over the cabin in increased +fury. A hand seemed slapping at the window, threatening to break it, +and a volley of wind and snow shot suddenly down the chimney, forcing +open the stove door, so that a shaft of ruddy light cut like a red +knife through the dense gloom of the cabin. In varying ways the sounds +played a part in Philip's dreams. In all those dreams, and segments of +dreams, the girl was present. It was strange that in all of them she +should be his wife. And it was strange that the big woods and the deep +snows played no part in them. He was back home. And Celie was with him. +Once they went for wildflowers and were caught in a thunderstorm, and +ran to an old and disused barn in the center of a field for shelter. He +could feel Celie trembling against him, and he was stroking her hair as +the thunder crashed over them and the lightning filled her eyes with +fear. After that there came to him a vision of early autumn nights when +they went corn-roasting, with other young people. He had always been +afflicted with a slight nasal trouble, and smoke irritated him. It set +him sneezing, and kept him dodging about the fire, and Celie was +laughing as the smoke persisted in following him about, like a young +scamp of a boy bent on tormenting him. The smoke was unusually +persistent on this particular night, until at last the laughter went +out of the girl's face, and she ran into his arms and covered his eyes +with her soft hands. Restlessly he tossed in his bunk, and buried his +face in the blanket that answered for a pillow. The smoke reached him; +even there, and he sneezed chokingly. In that instant Celie's face +disappeared. He sneezed again--and awoke. + +In that moment his dazed senses adjusted themselves. The cabin was full +of smoke. It partly blinded him, but through it he could see tongues of +fire shooting toward the ceiling. He heard then the crackling of +burning pitch--a dull and consuming roar, and with a stifled cry he +leaped from his bunk and stood on his feet. Dazed by the smoke and +flame, he saw that there was not the hundredth part of a second to +lose. Shouting Celie's name he ran to her door, where the fire was +already beginning to shut him out. His first cry had awakened her and +she was facing the lurid glow of the flame as he rushed in. Almost +before she could comprehend what was happening he had wrapped one of +the heavy bear skins about her and had swept her into his arms. With +her face crushed against his breast he lowered his head and dashed back +into the fiery holocaust of the outer room. The cabin, with its +pitch-filled logs, was like a box made of tinder, and a score of men +could not have beat out the fire that was raging now. The wind beating +from the west had kept it from reaching the door opening into the +corral, but the pitch was hissing and smoking at the threshold as +Philip plunged through the blinding pall and fumbled for the latch. + +Not ten seconds too soon did he stagger with his burden out into the +night. As the wind drove in through the open door the flames seemed to +burst in a sudden explosion and the cabin was a seething snarl of +flame. It burst through the window and out of the chimney and Philip's +path to the open gate was illumined by a fiery glow. Not until he had +passed beyond the stockade to the edge of the forest did he stop and +look back. Over their heads the wind wailed and moaned in the spruce +tops, but even above that sound came the roar of the fire. Against his +breast Philip heard a sobbing cry, and suddenly he held the girl +closer, and crushed his face down against hers, fighting to keep back +the horror that was gripping at his heart. Even as he felt her arms +creeping up out of the bearskin and clinging about his neck he felt +upon him like a weight of lead the hopelessness of a despair as black +as the night itself. The cabin was now a pillar of flame, and in it was +everything that had made life possible for them. Food, shelter, +clothing--all were gone. In this moment he did not think of himself, +but of the girl he held in his arms, and he strained her closer and +kissed her lips and her eyes and her tumbled hair there in the +storm-swept darkness, telling her what he knew was now a lie--that she +was safe, that nothing could harm her. Against him he felt the tremble +and throb of her soft body, and it was this that filled him with the +horror of the thing--the terror of the thought that her one garment was +a bearskin. He had felt, a moment before, the chill touch of a naked +little foot. + +And yet he kept saying, with his face against hers: + +"It's all right, little sweetheart. We'll come out all right--we sure +will!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +His first impulse, after those few appalling seconds following their +escape from the fire, was to save something from the cabin. Still +talking to Celie he dropped on his knees and tucked her up warmly in +the bearskin, with her back to a tree. He thanked God that it was a big +skin and that it enveloped her completely. Leaving her there he ran +back through the gate. He no longer feared the wolves. If they had not +already escaped into the forest he knew they would not attack him in +that hot glare of the one thing above all others they feared--fire. For +a space thought of the Eskimos, and the probability of the fire +bringing them from wherever they had sought shelter from the storm, was +secondary to the alarming necessity which faced him. Because of his +restlessness and his desire to be ready for any emergency he had not +undressed when he threw himself on his bunk that night, but he was +without a coat or cap. And Celie! He cried out aloud in his anguish +when he stopped just outside the deadline of the furnace of flame that +was once the cabin, and standing there with clenched hands he cursed +himself for the carelessness that had brought her face to face with a +peril deadlier than the menace of the Eskimos or Bram Johnson's wolves. +He alone was responsible. His indiscretion in overfilling the stove had +caused the fire, and in that other moment--when he might have snatched +up more than the bearskin--his mind had failed to act. + +In the short space he stood there helplessly in the red heat of the +fire the desperateness of the situation seared itself like the hot +flame itself in his brain. As prisoners in Bram's cabin, guarded by the +wolves and attacked by the Eskimos, they still had shelter, food, +clothing--a chance to live, at least the chance to fight. And now-- + +He put a hand to his bare head and faced the direction of the storm. +With the dying away of the wind snow had begun to fall, and with this +snow he knew there would come a rising temperature. It was probably +twenty degrees below zero, and unless the wind went down completely his +ears would freeze in an hour or two. Then he thought of the thick +German socks he wore. One of them would do for a cap. His mind worked +swiftly after that. There was, after all, a tremendous thrill in the +thought of fighting the odds against him, and in the thought of the +girl waiting for him in the bearskin, her life depending upon him +utterly now. Without him she could not move from the tree where he had +left her unless her naked feet buried themselves in the snow. If +something happened to him--she would die. Her helplessness filled him +suddenly with a wild exultation, the joy of absolute possession that +leapt for an instant or two above his fears. She was something +more--now--than the woman he loved. She was a little child, to be +carried in his arms, to be sheltered from the wind and the cold until +the last drop of blood had ceased to flow in his veins. His was the +mighty privilege now to mother her until the end came for them both--or +some miracle saved them. The last barrier was gone from between them. +That he had met her only yesterday was an unimportant incident now. The +world had changed, life had changed, a long time had passed. She +belonged to him as utterly as the stars belonged to the skies. In his +arms she would find life--or death. + +He was braced for the fight. His mind, riding over its first fears, +began to shape itself for action even as he turned back toward the edge +of the forest. Until then he had not thought of the other cabin--the +cabin which Bram and he had passed on their way in from the Barren. His +heart rose up suddenly in his throat and he wanted to shout. That cabin +was their salvation! It was not more than eight or ten miles away, and +he was positive that he could find it. + +He ran swiftly through the increasing circle of light made by the +burning logs. If the Eskimos had not gone far some one of them would +surely see the red glow of the fire, and discovery now meant death. In +the edge of the trees, where the shadows were deep, he paused and +looked back. His hand fumbled where the left-pocket of his coat would +have been, and as he listened to the crackling of the flames and stared +into the heart of the red glow there smote him with sudden and +sickening force a realization of their deadliest peril. In that +twisting inferno of burning pitch was his coat, and in the left-hand +pocket of that coat WERE HIS MATCHES! + +Fire! Out there in the open a seething, twisting mass of it, taunting +him with its power, mocking him as pitiless as the mirage mocks a +thirst-crazed creature of the desert. In an hour or two it would be +gone. He might keep up its embers for a time--until the Eskimos, or +starvation, or still greater storm put an end to it. The effort, in any +event, would be futile in the end. Their one chance lay in finding the +other cabin, and reaching it quickly. When it came to the point of +absolute necessity he could at least try to make fire as he had seen an +Indian make it once, though at the time he had regarded the achievement +as a miracle born of unnumbered generations of practice. + +He heard the glad note of welcome in Celie's throat when he returned to +her. She spoke his name. It seemed to him that there was no note of +fear in her voice, but just gladness that he had come back to her in +that pit of darkness. He bent down and tucked her snugly in the big +bear-skin before he took her up in his arms again. He held her so that +her face was snuggled close against his neck, and he kissed her soft +mouth again, and whispered to her as he began picking his way through +the forest. His voice, whispering, made her understand that they must +make no sound. She was tightly imprisoned in the skin, but all at once +he felt one of her hands work its way out of the warmth of it and lay +against his cheek. It did not move away from his face. Out of her soul +and body there passed through that contact of her hand the confession +that made him equal to fighting the world. For many minutes after that +neither of them spoke. The moan of the wind was growing less and less +in the treetops, and once Philip saw a pale break where the clouds had +split asunder in the sky. The storm was at an end--and it was almost +dawn. In a quarter of an hour the shot like snow of the blizzard had +changed to big soft flakes that dropped straight out of the clouds in a +white deluge. By the time day came their trail would be completely +hidden from the eyes of the Eskimos. Because of that Philip traveled as +swiftly as the darkness and the roughness of the forest would allow +him. As nearly as he could judge he kept due east. For a considerable +time he did not feel the weight of the precious burden in his arms. He +believed that they were at least half a mile from the burned cabin +before he paused to rest. Even then he spoke to Celie in a low voice. +He had stopped where the trunk of a fallen tree lay as high as his +waist, and on this he seated the girl, holding her there in the crook +of his arm. With his other hand he fumbled to see if the bearskin +protected her fully, and in the investigation his hand came in contact +again with one of her bare feet. Celie gave a little jump. Then she +laughed, and he made sure that the foot was snug and warm before he +went on. + +Twice in the nest half mile he stopped. The third time, a full mile +from the cabin, was in a dense growth of spruce through the tops of +which snow and wind did not penetrate. Here he made a nest of +spruce-boughs for Celie, and they waited for the day. In the black +interval that precedes Arctic dawn they listened for sounds that might +come to them. Just once came the wailing howl of one of Bram's wolves, +and twice Philip fancied that he heard the distant cry of a human +voice. The second time Celie's fingers tightened about his own to tell +him that she, too, had heard. + +A little later, leaving Celie alone, Philip went back to the edge of +the spruce thicket and examined closely their trail where it had +crossed a bit of open. It was not half an hour old, yet the deluge of +snow had almost obliterated the signs of their passing. His one hope +was that the snowfall would continue for another hour. By that time +there would not be a visible track of man or beast, except in the heart +of the thickets. But he knew that he was not dealing with white men or +Indians now. The Eskimos were night-trackers and night-hunters. For +five months out of every twelve their existence depended upon their +ability to stalk and kill in darkness. If they had returned to the +burning cabin it was possible, even probable, that they were close on +their heels now. + +For a second time he found himself a stout club. He waited, listening, +and straining his eyes to penetrate the thick gloom; and then, as his +own heart-beats came to him audibly, he felt creeping over him a slow +and irresistible foreboding--a premonition of something impending, of a +great danger close at hand. His muscles grew tense, and he clutched the +club, ready for action. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +It seemed to Philip, as he stood with the club ready in his hand, that +the world had ceased to breathe in its anticipation of the thing for +which he was waiting--and listening. The wind had dropped dead. There +was not a rustle in the tree-tops, not a sound to break the stillness. +The silence, so close after storm, was an Arctic phenomenon which did +not astonish him, and yet the effect of it was almost painfully +gripping. Minor sounds began to impress themselves on his senses--the +soft murmur of the falling snow, his own breath, the pounding of his +heart. He tried to throw off the strange feeling that oppressed him, +but it was impossible. Out there in the darkness he would have sworn +that there were eyes and ears strained as his own were strained. And +the darkness was lifting. Shadows began to disentangle themselves from +the gray chaos. Trees and bushes took form, and over his head the last +heavy windrows of clouds shouldered their way out of the sky. + +Still, as the twilight of dawn took the place of night, he did not +move, except to draw himself a little closer into the shelter of the +scrub spruce behind which he had hidden himself. He wondered if Celie +would be frightened at his absence. But he could not compel himself to +go on--or back. SOMETHING WAS COMING! He was as positive of it as he +was of the fact that night was giving place to day. Yet he could see +nothing--hear nothing. It was light enough now for him to see movement +fifty yards away, and he kept his eyes fastened on the little open +across which their trail had come. If Olaf Anderson the Swede had been +there he might have told him of another night like this, and another +vigil. For Olaf had learned that the Eskimos, like the wolves, trail +two by two and four by four, and that--again like the wolves--they +pursue not ON the trail but with the trail between them. + +But it was the trail that Philip watched; and as he kept his +vigil--that inexplicable mental undercurrent telling him that his +enemies were coming--his mind went back sharply to the girl a hundred +yards behind him. The acuteness of the situation sent question after +question rushing through his mind, even as he gripped his club, For her +he was about to fight. For her he was ready to kill, and not afraid to +die. He loved her. And yet--she was a mystery. He had held her in his +arms, had felt her heart beating against his breast, had kissed her +lips and her eyes and her hair, and her response had been to place +herself utterly within the shelter of his arms. She had given herself +to him and he was possessed of the strength of one about to fight for +his own. And with that strength the questions pounded again in his +head. Who was she? And for what reason were mysterious enemies coming +after her through the gray dawn? + +In that moment he heard a sound. His heart stood suddenly still. He +held his breath. It was a sound almost indistinguishable from the +whisper of the air and the trees and yet it smote upon his senses like +the detonation of a thunder-clap. It was more of a PRESENCE than a +sound. The trail was clear. He could see to the far side of the open +now, and there was no movement. He turned his head--slowly and without +movement of his body, and in that instant a gasp rose to his lips, and +died there. Scarcely a dozen paces from him stood a poised and hooded +figure, a squat, fire-eyed apparition that looked more like monster +than man in that first glance. Something acted within him that was +swifter than reason--a sub-conscious instinct that works for +self-preservation like the flash of powder in a pan. It was this +sub-conscious self that received the first photographic impression--the +strange poise of the hooded creature, the uplifted arm, the cold, +streaky gleam of something in the dawn-light, and in response to that +impression Philip's physical self crumpled down in the snow as a +javelin hissed through the space where his head and shoulders had been. + +So infinitesimal was the space of time between the throwing of the +javelin and Philip's movement that the Eskimo believed he had +transfixed his victim. A scream of triumph rose in his throat. It was +the Kogmollock sakootwow--the blood-cry, a single shriek that split the +air for a mile. It died in another sort of cry. From where he had +dropped Philip was up like a shot. His club swung through the air and +before the amazed hooded creature could dart either to one side or the +other it had fallen with crushing force. That one blow must have +smashed his shoulder to a pulp. As the body lurched downward another +blow caught the hooded head squarely and the beginning of a second cry +ended in a sickening grunt. The force of the blow carried Philip half +off his feet, and before he could recover himself two other figures had +rushed upon him from out of the gloom. Their cries as they came at him +were like the cries of beasts. Philip had no time to use his club. From +his unbalanced position he flung himself upward and at the nearest of +his enemies, saving himself from the upraised javelin by clinching. His +fist shot out and caught the Eskimo squarely in the mouth. He struck +again--and the javelin dropped from the Kogmollock's hand. In that +moment, every vein in his body pounding with the rage and excitement of +battle, Philip let out a yell. The end of it was stifled by a pair of +furry arms. His head snapped back--and he was down. + +A thrill of horror shot through him. It was the one unconquerable +fighting trick of the Eskimos--that neck hold. Caught from behind there +was no escape from it. It was the age-old sasaki-wechikun, or +sacrifice-hold, an inheritance that came down from father to son--the +Arctic jiu-jitsu by which one Kogmollock holds the victim helpless +while a second cuts out his heart. Flat on his back, with his head and +shoulders bent under him, Philip lay still for a single instant. He +heard the shrill command of the Eskimo over him--an exhortation for the +other to hurry up with the knife. And then, even as he heard a grunting +reply, his hand came in contact with the pocket which held Celie's +little revolver. He drew it quickly, cocked it under his back, and +twisting his arm until the elbow-joint cracked, he fired. It was a +chance shot. The powder-flash burned the murderous, thick-lipped face +in the sealskin hood. There was no cry, no sound that Philip heard. But +the arms relaxed about his neck. He rolled over and sprang to his feet. +Three or four paces from him was the Eskimo he had struck, crawling +toward him on his hands and knees, still dazed by the blows he had +received. In the snow Philip saw his club. He picked it up and replaced +the revolver in his pocket. A single blow as the groggy Eskimo +staggered to his feet and the fight was over. + +It had taken perhaps three or four minutes--no longer than that. His +enemies lay in three dark and motionless heaps in the snow. Fate had +played a strong hand with him. Almost by a miracle he had escaped and +at least two of the Eskimos were dead. + +He was still watchful, still guarding against a further attack, and +suddenly he whirled to face a figure that brought from him a cry of +astonishment and alarm. It was Celie. She was standing ten paces from +him, and in the wild terror that had brought her to him she had left +the bearskin behind. Her naked feet were buried in the snow. Her arms, +partly bared, were reaching out to him in the gray Arctic dawn, and +then wildly and moaningly there came to him-- + +"Philip--Philip--" + +He sprang to her, a choking cry on his own lips. This, after all, was +the last proof--when she had thought that their enemies were killing +him SHE HAD COME TO HIM. He was sobbing her name like a boy as he ran +back with her in his arms. Almost fiercely he wrapped the bearskin +about her again, and then crushed her so closely in his arms that he +could hear her gasping faintly for breath. In that wild and glorious +moment he listened. A cold and leaden day was breaking over the world +and as they listened their hearts throbbing against each other, the +same sound came to them both. + +It was the sakootwow--the savage, shrieking blood-cry of the +Kogmollocks, a scream that demanded an answer of the three hooded +creatures who, a few minutes before, had attacked Philip in the edge of +the open. The cry came from perhaps a mile away. And then, faintly, it +was answered far to the west. For a moment Philip pressed his face down +to Celie's. In his heart was a prayer, for he knew that the fight had +only begun. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +That the Eskimos both to the east and the west were more than likely to +come their way, converging toward the central cry that was now silent, +Philip was sure. In the brief interval in which he had to act he +determined to make use of his fallen enemies. This he impressed on +Celie's alert mind before he ran back to the scene of the fight. He +made no more than a swift observation of the field in these first +moments--did not even look for weapons. His thought was entirely of +Celie. The smallest of the three forms on the snow was the Kogmollock +he had struck down with his club. He dropped on his knees and took off +first the sealskin bashlyk, or hood. Then he began stripping the dead +man of his other garments. From the fur coat to the caribou-skin +moccasins they were comparatively new. With them in his arms he hurried +back to the girl. + +It was not a time for fine distinctions. The clothes were a godsend, +though they had come from a dead man's back, and an Eskimo's at that. +Celie's eyes shone with joy. It amazed him more than ever to see how +unafraid she was in this hour of great danger. She was busy with the +clothes almost before his back was turned. + +He returned to the Eskimos. The three were dead. It made him +shudder--one with a tiny bullet hole squarely between the eyes, and the +others crushed by the blows of the club. His hand fondled Celie's +little revolver--the pea-shooter he had laughed at. After all it had +saved his life. And the club-- + +He did not examine too closely there. From the man he had struck with +his naked fist he outfitted himself with a hood and temiak, or coat. In +the temiak there were no pockets, but at the waist of each of the dead +men a narwhal skin pouch which answered for all pockets. He tossed the +three pouches in a little heap on the snow before he searched for +weapons. He found two knives and half a dozen of the murderous little +javelins. One of the knives was still clutched in the hand of the +Eskimo who was creeping up to disembowel him when Celie's revolver +saved him. He took this knife because it was longer and sharper than +the other. + +On his knees he began to examine the contents of the three pouches. In +each was the inevitable roll of babiche, or caribou-skin cord, and a +second and smaller waterproof narwhal bag in which were the Kogmollock +fire materials. There was no food. This fact was evident proof that the +Eskimos were in camp somewhere in the vicinity. He had finished his +investigation of the pouches when, looking up from his kneeling +posture, he saw Celie approaching. + +In spite of the grimness of the situation he could not repress a smile +as he rose to greet her. At fifty paces, even with her face toward him, +one would easily make the error of mistaking her for an Eskimo, as the +sealskin bashlyk was so large that it almost entirely concealed her +face except when one was very close to her. Philip's first assistance +was to roll back the front of the hood. Then he pulled her thick braid +out from under the coat and loosed the shining glory of her hair until +it enveloped her in a wonderful shimmering mantle. Their enemies could +not mistake her for a man NOW, even at a hundred yards. If they ran +into an ambuscade she would at least be saved from the javelins. + +Celie scarcely realized what he was doing. She was staring at the dead +men--silent proof of the deadly menace that had threatened them and of +the terrific fight Philip must have made. A strange note rose in her +throat, and turning toward him suddenly she flung herself into his +arms. Her own arms encircled his neck, and for a space she lay +shudderingly against his breast, as if sobbing. How many times he +kissed her in those moments Philip could not have told. It must have +been a great many. He knew only that her arms were clinging tighter and +tighter about his neck, and that she was whispering his name, and that +his hands were buried in her soft hair. He forgot time, forgot the +possible cost of precious seconds lost. It was a small thing that +recalled him to his senses. From out of a spruce top a handful of snow +fell on his shoulder. It startled him like the touch of a strange hand, +and in another moment he was explaining swiftly to Celie that there +were other enemies near and that they must lose no time in flight. + +He fastened one of the pouches at his waist, picked up his club, +and--on second thought--one of the Kogmollock javelins. He had no very +definite idea of how he might use the latter weapon, as it was too +slender to be of much avail as a spear at close quarters. At a dozen +paces he might possibly throw it with some degree of accuracy. In a +Kogmollock's hand it was a deadly weapon at a hundred paces. With the +determination to be at his side when the next fight came Celie +possessed herself of a second javelin. With her hand in his Philip set +out then due north through the forest. + +It was in that direction he knew the cabin must lay. After striking the +edge of the timber after crossing the Barren Bram Johnson had turned +almost directly south, and as he remembered the last lap of the journey +Philip was confident that not more than eight or ten miles had +separated the two cabins. He regretted now his carelessness in not +watching Brain's trail more closely in that last hour or two. His chief +hope of finding the cabin was in the discovery of some landmark at the +edge of the Barren. He recalled distinctly where they had turned into +the forest, and in less than half an hour after that they had come upon +the first cabin. + +Their immediate necessity was not so much the finding of the cabin as +escape from the Eskimos. Within half an hour, perhaps even less, he +believed that other eyes would know of the fight at the edge of the +open. It was inevitable. If the Kogmollocks on either side of them +struck the trail before it reached the open they would very soon run +upon the dead, and if they came upon footprints in the snow this side +of the open they would back-trail swiftly to learn the source and +meaning of the cry of triumph that had not repeated itself. Celie's +little feet, clad in moccasins twice too big for her, dragged in the +snow in a way that would leave no doubt in the Eskimo mind. As Philip +saw the situation there was one chance for them, and only one. They +could not escape by means of strategy. They could not hide from their +pursuers. Hope depended entirely upon the number of their enemies. If +there were only three or four of them left they would not attack in the +open. In that event he must watch for ambuscade, and dread the night. +He looked down at Celie, buried in her furry coat and hood and plodding +along courageously at his side with her hand in his. This was not a +time in which to question him, and she was obeying his guidance with +the faith of a child. It was tremendous, he thought--the most wonderful +moment that had ever entered into his life. It is this dependence, this +sublime faith and confidence in him of the woman he loves that gives to +a man the strength of a giant in the face of a great crisis and makes +him put up a tiger's fight for her. For such a woman a man must win. +And then Philip noticed how tightly Celie's other hand was gripping the +javelin with which she had armed herself. She was ready to fight, too. +The thrill of it all made him laugh, and her eyes shot up to him +suddenly, filled with a moment's wonder that he should be laughing now. +She must have understood, for the big hood hid her face again almost +instantly, and her fingers tightened the smallest bit about his. + +For a matter of a quarter of an hour they traveled as swiftly as Celie +could walk. Philip was confident that the Eskimo whose cries they had +heard would strike directly for the point whence the first cry had +come, and it was his purpose to cover as much distance as possible in +the first few minutes that their enemies might be behind them. It was +easier to watch the back trail than to guard against ambuscades ahead. +Twice in that time he stopped where they would be unseen and looked +back, and in advancing he picked out the thinnest timber and evaded +whatever might have afforded a hiding place to a javelin-thrower. They +had progressed another half mile when suddenly they came upon a +snowshoe trail in the snow. + +It had crossed at right angles to their own course, and as Philip bent +over it a sudden lump rose into his throat. The other Eskimos had not +worn snowshoes. That in itself had not surprised him, for the snow was +hard and easily traveled in moccasins. The fact that amazed him now was +that the trail under his eyes had not been made by Eskimo usamuks. The +tracks were long and narrow. The web imprint in the snow was not that +of the broad narwhal strip, but the finer mesh of babiche. It was +possible that an Eskimo was wearing them, but they were A WHITE MAN'S +SHOES! + +And then he made another discovery. For a dozen paces he followed in +the trail, allowing six inches with each step he took as the snowshoe +handicap. Even at that he could not easily cover the tracks. The man +who had made them had taken a longer snowshoe stride than his own by at +least nine inches. He could no longer keep the excitement of his +discovery from Celie. + +"The Eskimo never lived who could make that track," he exclaimed. "They +can travel fast enough but they're a bunch of runts when it comes to +leg-swing. It's a white man--or Bram!" + +The announcement of the wolf-man's name and Philip's gesture toward the +trail drew a quick little cry of understanding from Celie. In a flash +she had darted to the snowshoe tracks and was examining them with eager +intensity. Then she looked up and shook her head. It wasn't Bram! She +pointed to the tail of the shoe and catching up a twig broke it under +Philip's eyes. He remembered now. The end of Bram's shoes was snubbed +short off. There was no evidence of that defect in the snow. It was not +Bram who had passed that way. + +For a space he stood undecided. He knew that Celie was watching +him--that she was trying to learn something of the tremendous +significance of that moment from his face. The same unseen force that +had compelled him to wait and watch for his foes a short time before +seemed urging him now to follow the strange snowshoe trail. Enemy or +friend the maker of those tracks would at least be armed. The thought +of what a rifle and a few cartridges would mean to him and Celie now +brought a low cry of decision from him. He turned quickly to Celie. + +"He's going east--and we ought to go north to find the cabin," he told +her, pointing to the trail. "But we'll follow him. I want his rifle. I +want it more than anything else in this world, now that I've got you. +We'll follow--" + +If there had been a shadow of hesitation in his mind it was ended in +that moment. From behind them there came a strange hooting cry. It was +not a yell such as they had heard before. It was a booming far-reaching +note that had in it the intonation of a drum--a sound that made one +shiver because of its very strangeness. And then, from farther west, it +came-- + +"Hoom--Hoom--Ho-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m--" + +In the next half minute it seemed to Philip that the cry was answered +from half a dozen different quarters. Then again it came from directly +behind them. + +Celie uttered a little gasp as she clung to his hand again. She +understood as well as he. One of the Eskimos had discovered the dead +and their foes were gathering in behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Before the last of the cries had died away Philip flung far to one side +of the trail the javelin he carried, and followed it up with Celie's, +impressing on her that every ounce of additional weight meant a +handicap for them now. After the javelins went his club. + +"It's going to be the biggest race I've ever run," he smiled at her. +"And we've got to win. If we don't--" + +Celie's eyes were aglow as she looked at him, He was splendidly calm. +There was no longer a trace of excitement in his face, and he was +smiling at her even as he picked her up suddenly in his arms. The +movement was so unexpected that she gave a little gasp. Then she found +herself borne swiftly over the trail. For a distance of a hundred yards +Philip ran with her before he placed her on her feet again. In no +better way could he have impressed on her that they were partners in a +race against death and that every energy must be expended in that race. +Scarcely had her feet touched the snow than she was running at his +side, her hand clasped in his. Barely a second was lost. + +With the swift directness of the trained man-hunter Philip had measured +his chances of winning. The Eskimos, first of all, would gather about +their dead. After one or two formalities they would join in a +chattering council, all of which meant precious time for them. The +pursuit would be more or less cautious because of the bullet hole in +the Kogmollock's forehead. + +If it had been possible for Celie to ask him just what he expected to +gain by following the strange snowshoe trail he would have had +difficulty in answering. It was, like his single shot with Celie's +little revolver, a chance gamble against big odds. A number of +possibilities had suggested themselves to him. It even occurred to him +that the man who was hurrying toward the east might be a member of the +Royal Northwest Mounted Police. Of one thing, however, he was +confident. The maker of the tracks would not be armed with javelins. He +would have a rifle. Friend or foe, he was after that rifle. The trick +was to catch sight of him at the earliest possible moment. + +How much of a lead the stranger had was a matter at which he could +guess with considerable accuracy. The freshness of the trail was only +slightly dimmed by snow, which was ample proof that it had been made at +the very tail-end of the storm. He believed that it was not more than +an hour old. + +For a good two hundred yards Philip set a dog-trot pace for Celie, who +ran courageously at his side. At the end of that distance he stopped. +Celie was panting for breath. Her hood had slipped back and her face +was flushed like a wildflower by her exertion. Her eyes shone like +stars, and her lips were parted a little. She was temptingly lovely, +but again Philip lost not a second of unnecessary time. He picked her +up in his arms again and continued the race. By using every ounce of +his own strength and endurance in this way he figured that their +progress would be at least a third faster than the Eskimos would +follow. The important question was how long he could keep up the pace. + +Against his breast Celie was beginning to understand his scheme as +plainly as if he had explained it to her in words. At the end of the +fourth hundred yards she let him know that she was ready to run another +lap. He carried her on fifty yards more before he placed her on her +feet. In this way they had gone three-quarters of a mile when the trail +turned abruptly from its easterly course to a point of the compass due +north. So sharp was the turn that Philip paused to investigate the +sudden change in direction. The stranger had evidently stood for +several minutes at this point, which was close to the blasted stub of a +dead spruce. In the snow Philip observed for the first time a number of +dark brown spots. + +"Here is where he took a new bearing--and a chew of tobacco," said +Philip, more to himself than to Celie. "And there's no snow in his +tracks. By George, I don't believe he's got more than half an hour's +start of us this minute!" + +It was his turn to carry Celie again, and in spite of her protest that +she was still good for another run he resumed their pursuit of the +stranger with her in his arms. By her quick breathing and the bit of +tenseness that had gathered about her mouth he knew that the exertion +she had already been put to was having its effect on her. For her +little feet and slender body the big moccasins and cumbersome fur +garments she wore were a burden in themselves, even at a walk. He found +that by holding her higher in his arms, with her own arms encircling +his shoulders, it was easier to run with her at the pace he had set for +himself. And when he held her in this way her hair covered his breast +and shoulders so that now and then his face was smothered in the +velvety sweetness of it. The caress of it and the thrill of her arms +about him spurred him on. Once he made three hundred yards. But he was +gulping for breath when he stopped. That time Celie compelled him to +let her run a little farther, and when they paused she was swaying on +her feet, and panting. He carried her only a hundred and fifty yards in +the interval after that. Both realized what it meant. The pace was +telling on them. The strain of it was in Celie's eyes. The flower-like +flush of her first exertion was gone from her face. It was pale and a +little haggard, and in Philip's face she saw the beginning of the +things which she did not realize was betraying itself so plainly in her +own. She put her hands up to his cheeks, and smiled. It was +tremendous--that moment;--her courage, her splendid pride in him, her +manner of telling him that she was not afraid as her little hands lay +against his face. For the first time he gave way to his desire to hold +her close to him, and kiss the sweet mouth she held up to his as her +head nestled on his breast. + +After a moment or two he looked at his watch. Since striking the +strange trail they had traveled forty minutes. In that tine they had +covered at least three miles, and were a good four miles from the scene +of the fight. It was a big start. The Eskimos were undoubtedly a half +that distance behind them, and the stranger whom they were following +could not be far ahead. + +They went on at a walk. For the third time they came to a point in the +trail where the stranger had stopped to make observations. It was +apparent to Philip that the man he was after was not quite sure of +himself. Yet he did not hesitate in the course due north. + +For half an hour they continued in that direction. Not for an instant +now did Philip allow; his caution to lag. Eyes and ears were alert for +sound or movement either behind or ahead of them, and more and more +frequently he turned to scan the back trail. They were at least five +miles from the edge of the open where the fight had occurred when they +came to the foot of a ridge, and Philip's heart gave a sudden thump of +hope. He remembered that ridge. It was a curiously formed +"hog-back"--like a great windrow of snow piled up and frozen. Probably +it was miles in length. Somewhere he and Bram had crossed it soon after +passing the first cabin. He had not tried to tell Celie of this cabin. +Time had been too precious. But now, in the short interval of rest he +allowed themselves, he drew a picture of it in the snow and made her +understand that it was somewhere close to the ridge and that it looked +as though the stranger was making for it. He half carried Celie up the +ridge after that. She could not hide from him that her feet were +dragging even at a walk. Exhaustion showed in her face, and once when +she tried to speak to him her voice broke in a little gasping sob. On +the far side of the ridge he took her in his arms and carried her again. + +"It can't be much farther," he encouraged her. "We've got to overtake +him pretty soon, dear. Mighty soon." Her hand pressed gently against +his cheek, and he swallowed a thickness that in spite of his effort +gathered in his throat. During that last half hour a different look had +come into her eyes. It was there now as she lay limply with her head on +his breast--a look of unutterable tenderness, and of something else. It +was that which brought the thickness into his throat. It was not fear. +It was the soft glow of a great love--and of understanding. She knew +that even he was almost at the end of his fight. His endurance was +giving out. One of two things must happen very soon. She continued to +stroke his cheek gently until he placed her on her feet again, and then +she held one of his hands close to her breast as they looked behind +them, and listened. He could feel the soft throbbing of her heart. If +he needed greater courage then it was given to him. + +They went on. And then, so suddenly that it brought a stifled cry from +the girl's lips, they came upon the cabin. It was not a hundred yards +from them when they first saw it. It was no longer abandoned. A thin +spiral of smoke was rising from the chimney. There was no sign of life +other than that. + +For half a minute Philip stared at it. Here, at last, was the final +hope. Life or death, all that the world might hold for him and the girl +at his side, was in that cabin. Gently he drew her so that she would be +unseen. And then, still looking at the cabin, he drew off his coat and +dropped it in the snow. It was the preparation of a man about to fight. +The look of it was in his face and the stiffening of his muscles, and +when he turned to his little companion she was as white as the snow +under her feet. + +"We're in time," he breathed. "You--you stay here." + +She understood. Her hands clutched at him as he left her. A gulp rose +in her throat. She wanted to call out. She wanted to hold him back--or +go with him. Yet she obeyed. She stood with a heart that choked her and +watched him go. For she knew, after all, that it was the thing to do. +Sobbingly she breathed his name. It was a prayer. For she knew what +would happen in the cabin. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +Philip came up behind the windowless end of the cabin. He noticed in +passing with Bram that on the opposite side was a trap-window of +saplings, and toward this he moved swiftly but with caution. It was +still closed when he came where he could see. But with his ear close to +the chinks he heard a sound--the movement of some one inside. For an +instant he looked over his shoulder. Celia was standing where he had +left her. He could almost feel the terrible suspense that was in her +eyes as she watched him. + +He moved around toward the door. There was in him an intense desire to +have it over with quickly. His pulse quickened as the thought grew in +him that the maker of the strange snowshoe trail might be a friend +after all. But how was he to discover that fact? He had decided to take +no chances in the matter. Ten seconds of misplaced faith in the +stranger might prove fatal. Once he held a gun in his hands he would be +in a position to wait for introductions and explanations. But until +then, with their Eskimo enemies close at their heels-- + +His mind did not finish that final argument. The end of it smashed upon +him in another way. The door came within his vision. As it swung inward +he could not at first see whether it was open or closed. Leaning +against the logs close to the door was a pair of long snowshoes and a +bundle of javelins. A sickening disappointment swept over him as he +stared at the javelins. A giant Eskimo and not a white man had made the +trail they had followed. Their race against time had brought them +straight to the rendezvous of their foes--and there would be no guns. +In that moment when all the hopes he had built up seemed slipping away +from under him he could see no other possible significance in the +presence of the javelins. Then, for an instant, he held his breath and +sniffed the air like a dog getting the wind. The cabin door was open. +And out through that door came the mingling aroma of coffee and +tobacco! An Eskimo might have tobacco, or even tea. But coffee--never! + +Every drop of blood in his body pounded like tiny beating fists as he +crossed silently and swiftly the short space between the corner of the +cabin and the open door. For perhaps half a dozen seconds he closed his +eyes to give his snow-strained vision an even chance with the man in +the cabin. Then he looked in. + +It was a small cabin. It was possibly not more than ten feet square +inside, and at the far end of it was a fireplace from which rose the +chimney through the roof. At first Philip saw nothing except the dim +outlines of things. It was a moment or two before he made out the +figure of a man stooping over the fire. He stepped over the threshold, +making no sound. The occupant of the cabin straightened himself slowly, +lifting with, extreme care a pot of coffee from the embers. A glance at +his broad back and his giant stature told Philip that he was not an +Eskimo. He turned. Even then for an infinitesimal space he did not see +Philip as he stood fronting the door with the light in his face. It was +a white man's face--a face almost hidden in a thick growth of beard and +a tangle of hair that fell to the shoulders. Another instant and he had +seen the intruder and stood like one turned suddenly into stone. + +Philip had leveled Celie's little revolver. + +"I am Philip Raine of His Majesty's service, the Royal Mounted," he +said. "Throw, up your hands!" + +The moment's tableau was one of rigid amazement on one side, of waiting +tenseness on the other. Philip believed that the shadow of his body +concealed the size of the tiny revolver in his hand. Anyway it would be +effective at that distance, and he expected to see the mysterious +stranger's hands go over his head the moment he recovered from the +shock that had apparently gone with the command. What did happen he +expected least of all. The arm holding the pot of steaming coffee shot +out and the boiling deluge hissed straight at Philip's face. He ducked +to escape it, and fired. Before he could throw back the hammer of the +little single-action weapon for a second shot the stranger was at him. +The force of the attack sent them both crashing back against the wall +of the cabin, and in the few moments that followed Philip blessed the +providential forethought that had made him throw off his fur coat and +strip for action. His antagonist was not an ordinary man. A growl like +that of a beast rose in his throat as they went to the floor, and in +that death-grip Philip thought of Bram. + +More than once in watching the wolf-man he had planned how he would pit +himself against the giant if it came to a fight, and how he would evade +the close arm-to-arm grapple that would mean defeat for him. And this +man was Bram's equal in size and strength. He realized with the swift +judgment of the trained boxer that open fighting and the evasion of the +other's crushing brute strength was his one hope. On his knees he flung +himself backward, and struck out. The blow caught his antagonist +squarely in the face before he had succeeded in getting a firm clinch, +and as he bent backward under the force of the blow Philip exerted +every ounce of his strength, broke the other's hold, and sprang to his +feet. + +He felt like uttering a shout of triumph. Never had the thrill of +mastery and of confidence surged through him more hotly than it did +now. On his feet in open fighting he had the agility of a cat. The +stranger was scarcely on his feet before he was at him with a straight +shoulder blow that landed on the giant's jaw with crushing force. It +would have put an ordinary man down in a limp heap. The other's weight +saved him. A second blow sent him reeling against the log wall like a +sack of grain. And then in the half-gloom of the cabin Philip missed. +He put all his effort in that third blow and as his clenched fist shot +over the other's shoulder he was carried off his balance and found +himself again in the clutch of his enemy's arms. This time a huge hand +found his throat. The other he blocked with his left arm, while with +his right he drove in short-arm jabs against neck and jaw. Their +ineffectiveness amazed him. His guard-arm was broken upward, and to +escape the certain result of two hands gripping at his throat he took a +sudden foot-lock on his adversary, flung all his weight forward, and +again they went to the floor of the cabin. + +Neither caught a glimpse of the girl standing wide-eyed and terrified +in the door. They rolled almost to her feet. Full in the light she saw +the battered, bleeding face of the strange giant, and Philip's fist +striking it again and again. Then she saw the giant's two hands, and +why he was suffering that punishment. They were at Philip's +throat--huge hairy hands stained with his own blood. A cry rose to her +lips and the blue in her eyes darkened with the fighting fire of her +ancestors. She darted across the room to the fire. In an instant she +was back with a stick of wood in her hands. Philip saw her then--her +streaming hair and white face above them, and the club fell. The hands +at his throat relaxed. He swayed to his feet and with dazed eyes and a +weird sort of laugh opened his arms. Celie ran into them. He felt her +sobbing and panting against him. Then, looking down, he saw that for +the present the man who had made the strange snowshoe trail was as good +as dead. + +The air he was taking into his half strangled lungs cleared his head +and he drew away from Celie to begin the search of the room. His eyes +were more accustomed to the gloom, and suddenly he gave a cry of +exultation. Against the end of the mud and stone fireplace stood a +rifle and over the muzzle of this hung a belt and holster. In the +holster was a revolver. In his excitement and joy his breath was almost +a sob as he snatched it from the holster and broke it in the light of +the door. It was a big Colt Forty-five--and loaded to the brim. He +showed it to Celie, and thrust her to the door. + +"Watch!" he cried, sweeping his arm to the open. "Just two minutes +more. That's all I want--two minutes--and then--" + +He was counting the cartridges in the belt as he fastened it about his +waist. There were at least forty, two-thirds of them soft-nosed rifle. +The caliber was .303 and the gun was a Savage. It was modern up to the +minute, and as he threw down the lever enough to let him glimpse inside +the breech he caught the glisten of cartridges ready for action. He +wanted nothing more. The cabin might have held his weight in gold and +he would not have turned toward it. + +With the rifle in his hands he ran past Celie out into the day. For the +moment the excitement pounding in his body had got beyond his power of +control. His brain was running riot with the joyous knowledge of the +might that lay in his hands now and he felt an overmastering desire to +shout his triumph in the face of their enemies. + +"Come on, you devils! Come on, come on," he cried. And then, powerless +to restrain what was in him, he let out a yell. + +From the door Celie was staring at him. A few moments before her face +had been dead white. Now a blaze of color was surging back into her +cheeks and lips and her eyes shone with the glory of one who was +looking on more than triumph. From her own heart welled up a cry, a +revelation of that wonderful thing throbbing in her breast which must +have reached Philip's ears had there not in that same instant come +another sound to startle them both into listening silence. + +It was not far distant. And it was unmistakably an answer to Philip's +challenge. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +As they listened the cry came again. This time Philip caught in it a +note that he had not detected before. It was not a challenge but the +long-drawn ma-too-ee of an Eskimo who answers the inquiring hail of a +comrade. + +"He thinks it is the man in the cabin," exclaimed Philip, turning to +survey the fringe of forest through which their trail had come. "If the +others don't warn him there's going to be one less Eskimo on earth in +less than three minutes!" + +Another sound had drawn Celie back to the door. "When she looked in the +man she had stunned with the club was moving. Her call brought Philip, +and placing her in the open door to keep watch he set swiftly to work +to make sure of their prisoner. With the babiche thong he had taken +from his enemies he bound him hand and foot. A shaft of light fell full +on the giant's face and naked chest where it had been laid bare in the +struggle and Philip was about to rise when a purplish patch, of +tattooing caught his eyes. He made out first the crude picture of a +shark with huge gaping jaws struggling under the weight of a ship's +anchor, and then, directly under this pigment colored tatu, the almost +invisible letters of a name. He made them out one by one--B-l-a-k-e. +Before the surname was the letter G. + +"Blake," he repeated, rising to his feet. "GEORGE Blake--a sailor--and +a white man!" + +Blake, returning to consciousness, mumbled incoherently. In the same +instant Celie cried out excitedly at the door. + +"Oo-ee, Philip--Philip! Se det! Se! Se!" + +She drew back with, a sudden movement and pointed out the door. +Concealing himself as much as possible from outside observation Philip +peered forth. Not more than a hundred and fifty yards away a dog team +was approaching. There were eight dogs and instantly he recognized them +as the small fox-faced Eskimo breed from the coast. They were dragging +a heavily laden sledge and behind them came the driver, a furred and +hooded figure squat of stature and with a voice that came now in the +sharp clacking commands that Philip had heard in the company of Bram +Johnson. From the floor came a groan, and for an instant Philip turned +to find Blake's bloodshot eyes wide open and staring at him. The +giant's bleeding lips were gathered in a snarl and he was straining at +the babiche thongs that bound him. In that same moment Philip caught a +glimpse of Celie. She, too, was staring--and at Blake. Her lips were +parted, her eyes were big with amazement and as she looked she clutched +her hands convulsively at her breast and uttered a low, strange cry. +For the first time she saw Blake's face with the light full upon it. At +the sound of her cry Blake's eyes went to her, and for the space of a +second the imprisoned beast on the floor and the girl looking down on +him made up a tableau that held Philip spellbound. Between them was +recognition--an amazed and stone like horror on the girl's part, a +sudden and growing glare of bestial exultation in the eyes of the man. + +Suddenly there came the Eskimo's voice and the yapping of dogs. It was +the first Blake had heard. He swung his head toward the door with a +great gasp and the babiche cut like whipcord under the strain of his +muscles. Swift as a flash Philip thrust the muzzle of the big Colt +against his prisoner's head. + +"Make a sound and you're a dead man, Blake!" he warned. "We need that +team, and if you so much as whisper during the next ten seconds I'll +scatter your brains over the floor!" + +They could hear the cold creak of the sledge-runners now, and a moment +later the patter of many feet outside the door. In a single leap Philip +was at the door. Another and he was outside, and an amazed Eskimo was +looking into the round black eye of his revolver. It required no common +language to make him understand what was required of him. He backed +into the cabin with the revolver within two feet of his breast. Celie +had caught up the rifle and was standing guard over Blake as though +fearful that he might snap his bonds. Philip laughed joyously when he +saw how quickly she understood that she was to level the rifle at the +Kogmollock's breast and hold it there until he had made him a prisoner. +She was wonderful. She was panting in her excitement. From the floor +Blake had noticed that her little white finger was pressing gently +against the trigger of the rifle. It had made him shudder. It made the +Eskimo cringe a bit now as Philip tied his hands behind him. And Philip +saw it, and his heart thumped. Celie was gloriously careless. + +It was over inside of two minutes, and with an audible sigh of relief +she lowered her rifle. Then she leaned it against the wall and ran to +Blake. She was tremendously excited as she pointed down into the +bloodstained face and tried to explain to Philip the reason for that +strange and thrilling recognition he had seen between them. From her he +looked at Blake. The look in the prisoner's face sent a cold shiver +through him. There was no fear in it. It was filled with a deep and +undisguised exultation. Then Blake looked at Philip, and laughed +outright. + +"Can't understand her, eh?" he chuckled. "Well, neither can I. But I +know what she's trying to tell you. Damned funny, ain't it?" + +It was impossible for him to keep his eyes from shifting to the door. +There was expectancy in that glance. Then his glance shot almost +fiercely at Philip. + +"So you're Philip Raine, of the R. N. M. P., eh? Well, you've got me +guessed out. My name is Blake, but the G don't stand for George. If +you'll cut the cord off'n my legs so I can stand up or sit down I'll +tell you something. I can't do very much damage with my hands hitched +the way they are, and I can't talk layin' down cause of my Adam's apple +chokin' me." + +Philip seized the rifle and placed it again in Celie's hands, +stationing her once more at the door. + +"Watch--and listen," he said. + +He cut the thongs that bound his prisoner's ankles and Blake struggled +to his feet. When he fronted Philip the big Colt was covering his heart. + +"Now--talk!" commanded Philip. "I'm going to give you half a minute to +begin telling me what I want to know, Blake. You've brought the Eskimos +down. There's no doubt of that. What do you want of this girl, and what +have you done with her people?" + +He had never looked into the eyes of a cooler man than Blake, whose +blood-stained lips curled in a sneering smile even as he finished. + +"I ain't built to be frightened," he said, taking his time about it. "I +know your little games an' I've throwed a good many bluffs of my own in +my time. You're lyin' when you say you'll shoot, an' you know you are. +I may talk and I may not. Before I make up my mind I'm going to give +you a bit of brotherly advice. Take that team out there and hit across +the Barren--ALONE. Understand? ALONE. Leave the girl here. It's your +one chance of missing what happened to--" + +He grinned and shrugged his huge shoulders. + +"You mean Anderson--Olaf Anderson--and the others up at Bathurst +Inlet?" questioned Philip chokingly. + +Blake nodded. + +Philip wondered if the other could hear the pounding of his heart. He +had discovered in this moment what the Department had been trying to +learn for two years. It was this man--Blake--who was the mysterious +white leader of the Kogmollocks, and responsible for the growing +criminal record of the natives along Coronation Gulf. And he had just +confessed himself the murderer of Olaf Anderson! His finger trembled +for an instant against the trigger of his revolver. Then, staring into +Blake's face, he slowly lowered the weapon until it hung at his side. +Blake's eyes gleamed as he saw what he thought was his triumph. + +"IT'S your one chance," he urged. "And there ain't no time to lose." + +Philip had judged his man, and now he prayed for the precious minutes +in which to play out his game. The Kogmollocks who had taken up their +trail could not be far from the cabin now. + +"Maybe you're right, Blake," he said hesitatingly. "I think, after her +experience with Bram Johnson that she is about willing to return to her +father. Where is he?" + +Blake made no effort to disguise his eagerness. In the droop of +Philip's shoulder, the laxness of the hand that held the revolver and +the change in his voice Blake saw in his captor an apparent desire to +get out of the mess he was in. A glimpse of Celie's frightened face +turned for an instant from the door gave weight to his conviction. + +"He's down the Coppermine--about a hundred miles. So, Bram Johnson--" + +His eyes were a sudden blaze of fire. + +"Took care of her until your little rats waylaid him on the trail and +murdered him," interrupted Philip. "See here, Blake. You be square with +me and I'll be square with you. I haven't been able to understand a +word of her lingo and I'm curious to know a thing or two before I go. +Tell me who she is, and why you haven't killed her father, and what +you're going to do with her and I won't waste another minute." + +Blake leaned forward until Philip felt the heat of his breath. + +"What do I WANT of her?" he demanded slowly. "Why, if you'd been five +years without sight of a white woman, an' then you woke up one morning +to meet an angel like HER on the trail two thousand miles up in nowhere +what would you want of her? I was stunned, plumb stunned, or I'd had +her then. And after that, if it hadn't been for that devil with his +wolves--" + +"Bram ran away with her just as you were about to get her into your +hands," supplied Philip, fighting to save time. "She didn't even know +that you wanted her, Blake, so far as I can find out. It's all a +mystery to her. I don't believe she's guessed the truth even now. How +the devil did you do it? Playing the friend stunt, eh! And keeping +yourself in the background while your Kogmollocks did the work? Was +that it?" + +Blake nodded. His face was darkening as he looked at Philip and the +light in his eyes was changing to a deep and steady glare. In that +moment Philip had failed to keep the exultation out of his voice. It +shone in his face. And Blake saw it. A throaty sound rose out of his +thick chest and his lips parted in a snarl as there surged through him +a realization that he had been tricked. + +In that interval Philip spoke. + +"If I never sent up a real prayer to God before I'm sending it now, +Blake," he said. "I'm thanking Him that you didn't have time to harm +Celie Armin, an' I'm thanking Him that Bram Johnson had a soul in his +body in spite of his warped brain and his misshapen carcass. And now +I'm going to keep my word. I'm not going to lose another minute. Come!" + +"You--you mean--" + +"No, you haven't guessed it. We're not going over the Barren. We're +going back to that cabin on the Coppermine, and you're going with us. +And listen to this, Blake--listen hard! There may be fighting. If there +is I want you to sort of harden yourself to the fact that the first +shot fired is going straight through your gizzard. Do I make myself +clear? I'll shoot you deader than a salt mackerel the instant one of +your little murderers shows up on the trail. So tell this owl-faced +heathen here to spread the glad tidings when his brothers come in--and +spread it good. Quick about it! I'm not bluffing now." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +In Philip's eyes Blake saw his match now. And more. For three-quarters +of a minute he talked swiftly to the Eskimo. Philip knew that he was +giving the Kogmollock definite instructions as to the manner in which +his rescue must be accomplished. But he knew also that Blake would +emphasize the fact that it must not be in open attack, no matter how +numerous his followers might be. + +He hurried Blake through the door to the sledge and team. The sledge +was heavily laden with the meat of a fresh caribou kill and from the +quantity of flesh he dragged off into the snow Philip surmised that the +cabin would very soon be the rendezvous of a small army of Eskimo. +There was probably a thousand pounds of it, Retaining only a single +quarter of this he made Celie comfortable and turned his attention to +Blake. With babiche cord he re-secured his prisoner with the +"manacle-hitch," which gave him free play of one hand and arm--his +left. Then he secured the Eskimo's whip and gave it to Blake. + +"Now--drive!" he commanded. "Straight for the Coppermine, and by the +shortest cut. This is as much your race as mine now, Blake. The moment +I see a sign of anything wrong you're a dead man!" + +"And you--are a fool!" gritted Blake. "Good God, what a fool!" + +"Drive--and shut up!" + +Blake snapped his whip and gave a short, angry command in Eskimo. The +dogs sprang from their bellies to their feet and at another command +were off over the trail. From the door of the cabin the Eskimo's little +eyes shone with a watery eagerness as he watched them go. Celie caught +a last glimpse of him as she looked back and her hands gripped more +firmly the rifle which lay across her lap. Philip had given her the +rifle and it had piled upon her a mighty responsibility. He had meant +that she should use it if the emergency called for action, and that she +was to especially watch Blake. Her eyes did not leave the outlaw's +broad back as he ran on a dozen paces ahead of the dogs. She was ready +for him if he tried to escape, and she would surely fire. Running close +to her side Philip observed the tight grip of her hands on the weapon, +and saw one little thumb pinched up against the safety ready for +instant action. He laughed, and for a moment she looked up at him, +flushing suddenly when she saw the adoration in his face. + +"Blake's right--I'm a fool," he cried down at her in a low voice that +thrilled with his worship of her. "I'm a fool for risking you, +sweetheart. By going the other way I'd have you forever. They wouldn't +follow far into the south, if at all. Mebby you don't realize what +we're doing by hitting back to that father of yours. Do you?" + +She smiled. + +"And mebby when we get there we'll find him dead," he added. "Dead or +alive, everything is up to Blake now and you must help me watch him." + +He pantomimed this caution by pointing to Blake and the rifle. Then he +dropped behind. Over the length of sledge and team he was thirty paces +from Blake. At that distance he could drop him with a single shot from +the Colt. + +They were following the trail already made by the meat-laden sledge, +and the direction was northwest. It was evident that Blake was heading +at least in the right direction and Philip believed that it would be +but a short time before they would strike the Coppermine. Once on the +frozen surface of the big stream that flowed into the Arctic and their +immediate peril of an ambuscade would be over. Blake was surely aware +of that. If he had in mind a plan for escaping it must of necessity +take form before they reached the river. + +"Where the forest thinned out and the edge of the Barren crept in +Philip ran at Celie's side, but when the timber thickened and possible +hiding places for their enemies appeared in the trail ahead he was +always close to Blake, with the big Colt held openly in his hand. At +these times Celie watched the back trail. From her vantage on the +sledge her alert eyes took in every bush and thicket to right and left +of them, and when Philip was near or behind her she was looking at +least a rifle-shot ahead of Blake. For three-quarters of an hour they +had followed the single sledge trail when Blake suddenly gave a command +that stopped the dogs. They had reached a crest which overlooked a +narrow finger of the treeless Barren on the far side of which, possibly +a third of a mile distant, was a dark fringe of spruce timber. Blake +pointed toward this timber. Out of it was rising a dark column of +resinous smoke. + +"It's up to you," he said coolly to Philip. "Our trail crosses through +that timber--and you see the smoke. I imagine there are about twenty of +Upi's men there feeding on caribou. The herd was close beyond when they +made the kill. Now if we go on they're most likely to see us, or their +dogs get wind of us--and Upi is a bloodthirsty old cutthroat. I don't +want that bullet through my gizzard, so I'm tellin' you." + +Far back in Blake's eyes there lurked a gleam which Philip did not +like. Blake was not a man easily frightened, and yet he had given what +appeared to be fair warning to his enemy. + +He came a step nearer, and said in a lower voice: + +"Raine, that's just ONE of Upi's crowds. If you go on to the cabin +we're heading for there'll be two hundred fighting men after you before +the day is over, and they'll get you whether you kill me or not. You've +still got the chance I gave you back there. Take it--if you ain't tired +of life. Give me the girl--an' you hit out across the Barren with the +team." + +"We're going on," replied Philip, meeting the other's gaze steadily. +"You know your little murderers, Blake. If any one can get past them +without being seen it's you. And you've got to do it. I'll kill you if +you don't. The Eskimos may get us after that, but they won't harm HER +in your way. Understand? We're going the limit in this game. And I +figure you're putting up the biggest stake. I've got a funny sort of +feeling that you're going to cash in before we reach the cabin." + +For barely an instant the mysterious gleam far back in Blake's eyes +died out. There was the hard, low note in Philip's voice which carried +conviction and Blake knew he was ready to play the hand which he held. +With a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders he stirred up the dogs with a +crack of his whip and struck out at their head due west. During the +next half hour Philip's eyes and ears were ceaselessly on the alert. He +traveled close to Blake, with the big Colt in his hand, watching every +hummock and bit of cover as they came to it. He also watched Blake and +in the end was convinced that in the back of the outlaw's head was a +sinister scheme in which he had the utmost confidence in spite of his +threats and the fact that they had successfully got around Upi's camp. +Once or twice when their eyes happened to meet he caught in Blake's +face a contemptuous coolness, almost a sneering exultation which the +other could not quite conceal. It filled him with a scarcely definable +uneasiness. He was positive that Blake realized he would carry out his +threat at the least sign of treachery or the appearance of an enemy, +and yet he could not free himself from the uncomfortable oppression +that was beginning to take hold of him. He concealed it from Blake. He +tried to fight it out of himself. Yet it persisted. It was something +which seemed to hover in the air about him--the FEEL of a danger which +he could not see. + +And then Blake suddenly pointed ahead over an open plain and said: + +"There is the Coppermine." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +A cry from Celie turned his gaze from the broad white trail of ice that +was the Coppermine, and as he looked she pointed eagerly toward a huge +pinnacle of rock that rose like an oddly placed cenotaph out of the +unbroken surface of the plain. + +Blake grunted out a laugh in his beard and his eyes lit up with an +unpleasant fire as they rested on her flushed face. + +"She's tellin' you that Bram Johnson brought her this way," he +chuckled. "Bram was a fool--like you!" + +He seemed not to expect a reply from Philip, but urged the dogs down +the slope into the plain. Fifteen minutes later they were on the +surface of the river. + +Philip drew a deep breath of relief, and he found that same relief in +Celie's face when he dropped back to her side. As far as they could see +ahead of them there was no forest. The Coppermine itself seemed to be +swallowed up in the vast white emptiness of the Barren. There could be +no surprise attack here, even at night. And yet there was something in +Blake's face which kept alive within him the strange premonition of a +near and unseen danger. Again and again he tried to shake off the +feeling. He argued with himself against the unreasonableness of the +thing that had begun to oppress him. Blake was in his power. It was +impossible for him to escape, and the outlaw's life depended utterly +upon his success in getting them safely to the cabin. It was not +conceivable to suppose that Blake would sacrifice his life merely that +they might fall into the hands of the Eskimos. And yet-- + +He watched Blake--watched him more and more closely as they buried +themselves deeper in that unending chaos of the north. And Blake, it +seemed to him, was conscious of that increasing watchfulness. He +increased his speed. Now and then Philip heard a curious chuckling +sound smothered in his beard, and after an hour's travel on the +snow-covered ice of the river he could no longer dull his vision to the +fact that the farther they progressed into the open country, the more +confident Blake was becoming. He did not question him. He realized the +futility of attempting to force his prisoner into conversation. In that +respect it was Blake who held the whip hand. He could lie or tell the +truth, according to the humor of his desire. Blake must have guessed +this thought in Philip's mind. They were traveling side by side when he +suddenly laughed. There was an unmistakable irony in his voice when he +said: + +"It's funny, Raine, that I should like you, ain't it? A man who's +mauled you, an' threatened to kill you! I guess it's because I'm so +cussed sorry for you. You're heading straight for the gates of hell, +an' they're open--wide open." + +"And you?" + +This time Blake's laugh was harsher. + +"I don't count--now," he said. "Since you've made up your mind not to +trade me the girl for your life I've sort of dropped out of the game. I +guess you're thinking I can hold Upi's tribe back. Well, I can't--not +when you're getting this far up in their country. If we split the +difference, and you gave me HER, Upi would meet me half way. God, but +you've spoiled a nice dream!" + +"A dream?" + +Blake uttered a command to the dogs. + +"Yes--more'n that. I've got an igloo up there even finer than +Upi's--all built of whalebone and ships' timbers. Think of HER in that, +Raine--with ME! That's the dream you smashed!" + +"And her father--and the others--" + +This time there was a ferocious undercurrent in Blake's guttural laugh, +as though Philip had by accident reminded him of something that both +amused and enraged him. + +"Don't you know how these Kogmollock heathen look on a father-in-law?" +he asked. "He's sort of walkin' delegate over the whole bloomin' +family. A god with two legs. The OTHERS? Why, we killed them. But Upi +and his heathen wouldn't see anything happen to the old man when they +found I was going to take the girl. That's why he's alive up there in +the cabin now. Lord, what a mess you're heading into, Raine! And I'm +wondering, after you kill me, and they kill you, WHO'LL HAVE THE GIRL? +There's a half-breed in the tribe an' she'll probably go to him. The +heathen themselves don't give a flip for women, you know. So it's +certain to be the half-breed." + +He surged on ahead, cracking his whip, and crying out to the dogs. +Philip believed that in those few moments he had spoken much that was +truth. He had, without hesitation and of his own volition, confessed +the murder of the companions of Celie's father, and he had explained in +a reasonable way why Armin himself had been spared. These facts alone +increased his apprehension. Unless Blake was utterly confident of the +final outcome he would not so openly expose himself. He was even more +on his guard after this. + +For several hours after his brief fit of talking Blake made no effort +to resume the conversation nor any desire to answer Philip when the +latter spoke to him. A number of times it struck Philip that he was +going the pace that would tire out both man and beast before night. He +knew that in Blake's shaggy head there was a brain keenly and +dangerously alive, and he noted the extreme effort he was making to +cover distance with a satisfaction that was not unmixed of suspicion. +By three o'clock in the afternoon they were thirty-five miles from the +cabin in which Blake had become a prisoner. All that distance they had +traveled through a treeless barren without a sign of life. It was +between three and four when they began to strike timber once more, and +Philip asked himself if it had been Blake's scheme to reach this timber +before dusk. In places the spruce and banskian pine thickened until +they formed dark walls of forest and whenever they approached these +patches Philip commanded Blake to take the middle of the river. The +width of the stream was a comforting protection. It was seldom less +than two hundred yards from shore to shore and frequently twice that +distance. From the possible ambuscades they passed only a rifle could +be used effectively, and whenever there appeared to be the possibility +of that danger Philip traveled close to Blake, with the revolver in his +hand. The crack of a rifle even if the bullet should find its way home, +meant Blake's life. Of that fact the outlaw could no longer have a +doubt. + +For an hour before the gray dusk of Arctic night began to gather about +them Philip began to feel the effect of their strenuous pace. Hours of +cramped inactivity on the sledge had brought into Celie's face lines of +exhaustion. Since middle-afternoon the dogs had dragged at times in +their traces. Now they were dead-tired. Blake, and Blake alone, seemed +tireless. It was six o'clock when they entered a country that was +mostly plain, with a thin fringe of timber along the shores. They had +raced for nine hours, and had traveled fifty miles. It was here, in a +wide reach of river, that Philip gave the command to halt. + +His first caution was to secure Blake hand and foot, with his back +resting against a frozen snow-hummock a dozen paces from the sledge. +The outlaw accepted the situation with an indifference which seemed to +Philip more forced than philosophical. After that, while Celie was +walking back and forth to produce a warmer circulation in her numbed +body, he hurried to the scrub timber that grew along the shore and +returned with a small armful of dry wood. The fire he built was small, +and concealed as much as possible by the sledge. Ten minutes sufficed +to cook the meat for their supper. Then he stamped out the fire, fed +the dogs, and made a comfortable nest of bear skins for himself and +Celie, facing Blake. The night had thickened until he could make out +only dimly the form of the outlaw against the snow-hummock. His +revolver lay ready at his side. + +In that darkness he drew Celie close up into his arms. Her head lay on +his breast. He buried his lips in the smothering sweetness of her hair, +and her arms crept gently about his neck. Even then he did not take his +eyes from Blake, nor for an instant did he cease to listen for other +sounds than the deep breathing of the exhausted dogs. It was only a +little while before the stars began to fill the sky. The gloom lifted +slowly, and out of darkness rose the white world in a cold, shimmering +glory. In that starlight he could see the glisten of Celie's hair as it +covered them like a golden veil, and once or twice through the space +that separated them he caught the flash of a strange fire in the +outlaw's eyes. Both shores were visible. He could have seen the +approach of a man two hundred yards away. + +After a little he observed that Blake's head was drooping upon his +chest, and that his breathing had become deeper. His prisoner, he +believed, was asleep. And Celie, nestling on his breast, was soon in +slumber. He alone was awake,--and watching. The dogs, flat on their +bellies, were dead to the world. For an hour he kept his vigil. In that +time he could not see that Blake moved. He heard nothing suspicious. +And the night grew steadily brighter with the white glow of the stars. +He held the revolver in his hand now. The starlight played on it in a +steely glitter that could not fail to catch Blake's eyes should he +awake. + +And then Philip found himself fighting--fighting desperately to keep +awake. Again and again his eyes closed, and he forced them open with an +effort. He had planned that they would rest for two or three hours. The +two hours were gone when for the twentieth time his eyes shot open, and +he looked at Blake. The outlaw had not moved. His head hung still lower +on his breast, and again--slowly--irresistibly--exhaustion closed +Philip's eyes. Even then Philip was conscious of fighting against the +overmastering desire to sleep. It seemed to him that he was struggling +for hours, and all that time his subconsciousness was crying out for +him to awake, struggling to rouse him to the nearness of a great +danger. It succeeded at last. His eyes opened, and he stared in a dazed +and half blinded tray toward Blake. His first sensation was one of vast +relief that he had awakened. The stars were brighter. The night was +still. And there, a dozen paces from him was the snow-hummock. + +But Blake--Blake-- + +His heart leapt into his throat. + +BLAKE WAS GONE! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +The shock of the discovery that Blake had escaped brought Philip half +to his knees before he thought of Celie. In an instant the girl was +awake. His arm had tightened almost fiercely about her. She caught the +gleam of his revolver, and in another moment she saw the empty space +where their prisoner had been. Swiftly Philip's eyes traveled over the +moonlit spaces about them. Blake had utterly disappeared. Then he saw +the rifle, and breathed easier. For some reason the outlaw had not +taken that, and it was a moment or two before the significance of the +fact broke upon him. Blake must have escaped just as he was making that +last tremendous fight to rouse himself. He had had no more than time to +slink away into the shadows of the night, and had not paused to hazard +a chance of securing the weapon that lay on the snow close to Celie. He +had evidently believed that Philip was only half asleep, and in the +moonlight he must have seen the gleam of the big revolver leveled over +his captor's knee. + +Leaving Celie huddled in her furs, Philip rose to his feet and slowly +approached the snow hummock against which he had left his prisoner. The +girl heard the startled exclamation that fell from his lips when he saw +what had happened. Blake had not escaped alone. Running straight out +from behind the hummock was a furrow in the snow like the trail made by +an otter. He had seen such furrows before, where Eskimos had wormed +their way foot by foot within striking distance of dozing seals. +Assistance had come to Blake in that manner, and he could see where--on +their hands and knees--two men instead of one had stolen back through +the moonlight. + +Celie came to his side now, gripping the rifle in her hands. Her eyes +were wide and filled with frightened inquiry as she looked from the +tell-tale trails in the snow into Philip's face. He was glad that she +could not question him in words. He slipped the Colt into its holster +and took the rifle from her hands. In the emergency which he +anticipated the rifle would be more effective. That something would +happen very soon he was positive. If one Eskimo had succeeded in +getting ahead of his comrades to Blake's relief others of Upi's tribe +must be close behind. And yet he wondered, as he thought of this, why +Blake and the Kogmollock had not killed him instead of running away. +The truth he told frankly to Celie, thankful that she could not +understand. + +"It was the gun," he said. "They thought I had only closed my eyes, and +wasn't asleep. If something hadn't kept that gun leveled over my +knee--" He tried to smile, knowing that with every second the end might +come for them from out of the gray mist of moonlight and shadow that +shrouded the shore. "It was a one-man job, sneaking out like that, and +there's sure a bunch of them coming up fast to take a hand in the game. +It's up to us to hit the high spots, my dear--an' you might pray God to +give us time for a start." + +If he had hoped to keep from her the full horror of their situation, he +knew, as he placed her on the sledge, that he had failed. Her eyes told +him that. Intuitively she had guessed at the heart of the thing, and +suddenly her arms reached up about his neck as he bent over her and +against his breast he heard the sobbing cry that she was trying hard to +choke back. Under the cloud of her hair her warm, parted lips lay for a +thrilling moment against his own, and then he sprang to the dogs. + +They had already roused themselves and at his command began sullenly to +drag their lame and exhausted bodies into trace formation. As the +sledge began to move he sent the long lash of the driving whip curling +viciously over the backs of the pack and the pace increased. Straight +ahead of them ran the white trail of the Coppermine, and they were soon +following this with the eagerness of a team on the homeward stretch. As +Philip ran behind he made a fumbling inventory of the loose rifle +cartridges in the pocket of his coat, and under his breath prayed to +God that the day would come before the Eskimos closed in. Only one +thing did he see ahead of him now--a last tremendous fight for Celie, +and he wanted the light of dawn to give him accuracy. He had thirty +cartridges, and it was possible that he could put up a successful +running fight until they reached Armin's cabin. After that fate would +decide. He was already hatching a scheme in his brain. If he failed to +get Blake early in the fight which he anticipated he would show the +white flag, demand a parley with the outlaw under pretense of +surrendering Celie, and shoot him dead the moment they stood face to +face. With Blake out of the way there might be another way of dealing +with Upi and his Kogmollocks. It was Blake who wanted Celie. In Upi's +eyes there were other things more precious than a woman. The thought +revived in him a new thrill of hope. It recalled to him the incident of +Father Breault and the white woman nurse who, farther west, had been +held for ransom by the Nanamalutes three years ago. Not a hair of the +woman's head had been harmed in nine months of captivity. Olaf Anderson +had told him the whole story. There had been no white man there--only +the Eskimos, and with the Eskimos he believed that he could deal now if +he succeeded in killing Blake. Back at the cabin he could easily have +settled the matter, and he felt like cursing himself for his +shortsightedness. + +In spite of the fact that he had missed his main chance he began now to +see more than hope in a situation that five minutes before had been one +of appalling gloom. If he could keep ahead of his enemies until +daybreak he had a ninety percent chance of getting Blake. At some spot +where he could keep the Kogmollocks at bay and scatter death among them +if they attacked he would barricade himself and Celie behind the sledge +and call out his acceptance of Blake's proposition to give up Celie as +the price of his own safety. He would demand an interview with Blake, +and it was then that his opportunity would come. + +But ahead of him were the leaden hours of the gray night! Out of that +ghostly mist of pale moonlight through which the dogs were traveling +like sinuous shadows Upi and his tribe could close in on him silently +and swiftly, unseen until they were within striking distance. In that +event all would be lost. He urged the dogs on, calling them by the +names which he had heard Blake use, and occasionally he sent the long +lash of his whip curling over their backs. The surface of the +Coppermine was smooth and hard. Now and then they came to stretches of +glare ice and at these intervals Philip rode behind Celie, staring back +into the white mystery of the night out of which they had come. It was +so still that the click, dick, click of the dogs' claws sounded like +the swift beat of tiny castanets on the ice. He could hear the panting +breath of the beasts. The whalebone runners of the sledge creaked with +the shrill protest of steel traveling over frozen snow. Beyond these +sounds there were no others, with, the exception of his own breath and +the beating of his own heart. Mile after mile of the Coppermine dropped +behind them. The last tree and the last fringe of bushes disappeared, +and to the east, the north, and the west there was no break in the vast +emptiness of the great Arctic plain. Ever afterward the memory of that +night seemed like a grotesque and horrible dream to him. Looking back, +he could remember how the moon sank out of the sky and utter darkness +closed them in and how through that darkness he urged on the tired +dogs, tugging with them at the lead-trace, and stopping now and then in +his own exhaustion to put his arms about Celie and repeat over and over +again that everything was all right. + +After an eternity the dawn came. What there was to be of day followed +swiftly, like the Arctic night. The shadows faded away, the shores +loomed up and the illimitable sweep of the plain lifted itself into +vision as if from out of a great sea of receding fog. In the quarter +hour's phenomenon between the last of darkness and wide day Philip +stood straining his eyes southward over the white path of the +Coppermine. It was Celie, huddled close at his side, who turned her +eyes first from the trail their enemies would follow. She faced the +north, and the cry that came from her lips brought Philip about like a +shot. His first sensation was one of amazement that they had not yet +passed beyond the last line of timber. Not more than a third of a mile +distant the river ran into a dark strip of forest that reached in from +the western plain like a great finger. Then he saw what Celie had seen. +Close up against the timber a spiral of smoke was rising into the air. +He made out in another moment the form of a cabin, and the look in +Celie's staring face told him the rest. She was sobbing breathless +words which he could not understand, but he knew that they had won +their race, and that it was Armin's place. And Armin was not dead. He +was alive, as Blake had said--and it was about breakfast time. He had +held up under the tremendous strain of the night until now--and now he +was filled with an uncontrollable desire to laugh. The curious thing +about it was that in spite of this desire no sound came from his +throat. He continued to stare until Celie turned to him and swayed into +his arms. In the moment of their triumph her strength was utterly gone. +And then the thing happened which brought the life back into him again +with a shock. From far up the black finger of timber where it bellied +over the horizon of the plain there floated down to them a chorus of +sound. It was a human sound--the yapping, wolfish cry of an Eskimo +horde closing in on man or beast. They had heard that same cry close on +the heels of the fight in the clearing. Now it was made by many voices +instead of two or three. It was accompanied almost instantly by the +clear, sharp report of a rifle, and a moment later the single shot was +followed by a scattering fusillade. After that there was silence. + +Quickly Philip bundled Celie on the sledge and drove the dogs ahead, +his eyes on a wide opening in the timber three or four hundred yards +above the river. Five minutes later the sledge drew up in front of the +cabin. In that time they heard no further outcry or sound of gunfire, +and from the cabin itself there came no sign of life, unless the smoke +meant life. Scarcely had the sledge stopped before Celie was on her +feet and running to the door. It was locked, and she beat against it +excitedly with her little fists, calling a strange name. Standing close +behind her, Philip heard a shuffling movement beyond the log walls, the +scraping of a bar, and a man's voice so deep that it had in it the +booming note of a drum. To it Celie replied with almost a shriek. The +door swung inward, and Philip saw a man's arms open and Celie run into +them. He was an old man. His hair and beard were white. This much +Philip observed before he turned with a sudden, thrill toward the open +in the forest. Only he had heard the cry that had come from that +direction, and now, looking back, he saw a figure running swiftly over +the plain toward the cabin. Instantly he knew that it was a white man. +With his revolver in his hand he advanced to meet him and in a brief +space they stood face to face. + +The stranger was a giant of a man. His long, reddish hair fell to his +shoulders. He was bare-headed, and panting as if hard run, and his face +was streaming with blood. His eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets +as he stared at Philip. And Philip, almost dropping his revolver in his +amazement, gasped incredulously: + +"My God, is it you--Olaf Anderson!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Following that first wild stare of uncertainty and disbelief in the big +Swede's eyes came a look of sudden and joyous recognition. He was +clutching at Philip's hand like a drowning man before he made an effort +to speak, still with his eyes on the other's face as if he was not +quite sure they had not betrayed him. Then he grinned. There was only +one man in the world who could grin like Olaf Anderson. In spite of +blood and swollen features it transformed him. Men loved the red-headed +Swede because of that grin. Not a man in the service who knew him but +swore that Olaf would die with the grin on his face, because the +tighter the hole he was in the more surely would the grin be there. It +was the grin that answered Philip's question. + +"Just in time--to the dot," said Olaf, still pumping Philip's hand, and +grinning hard. "All dead but me--Calkins, Harris, and that little +Dutchman, O'Flynn, Cold and stiff, Phil, every one of them. I knew an +investigating patrol would be coming up pretty soon. Been looking for +it every day. How many men you got?" + +He looked beyond Philip to the cabin and the sledge. The grin slowly +went out of his face, and Philip heard the sudden catch in his breath. +A swift glance revealed the amazing truth to Olaf. He dropped Philip's +hand and stepped back, taking him in suddenly from head to foot. + +"Alone!" + +"Yes, alone," nodded Philip. "With the exception of Celie Armin. I +brought her back to her father. A fellow named Blake is back there a +little way with Upi's tribe. We beat them out, but I'm figuring it +won't be long before they show up." + +The grin was fixed in Olaf's face again. + +"Lord bless us, but it's funny," he grunted. "They're coming on the +next train, so to speak, and right over in that neck of woods is the +other half of Upi's tribe chasing their short legs off to get me. And +the comical part of it is you're ALONE!" His eyes were fixed suddenly +on the revolver. "Ammunition?" he demanded eagerly. "And--grub?" + +"Thirty or forty rounds of rifle, a dozen Colt, and plenty of meat--" + +"Then into the cabin, and the dogs with us," almost shouted the Swede. + +From the edge of the forest came the report of a rifle and over their +heads went the humming drone of a bullet. + +They were back at the cabin in a dozen seconds, tugging at the dogs. It +cost an effort to get them through the door, with the sledge after +them. Half a dozen shots came from the forest. A bullet spattered +against the log wall, found a crevice, and something metallic jingled +inside. As Olaf swung the door shut and dropped the wooden bar in place +Philip turned for a moment toward Celie. She went to him, her eyes +shining in the semi-gloom of the cabin, and put her arms up about his +shoulders. The Swede, looking on, stood transfixed, and the +white-bearded Armin stared incredulously. On her tip-toes Celie kissed +Philip, and then turning with her arms still about him said something +to the older man that brought an audible gasp from Olaf. In another +moment she had slipped away from Philip and back to her father. The +Swede was flattening his face against a two inch crevice between the +logs when Philip went to his side. + +"What did she say, Olaf?" he entreated. + +"That she's going to marry you if we ever get out of this hell of a fix +we're in," grunted Olaf. "Pretty lucky dog, I say, if it's true. +Imagine Celie Armin marrying a dub like you! But it will never happen. +If you don't believe it fill your eyes with that out there!" + +Philip glued his eyes to the long crevice between the logs and found +the forest and the little finger of plain between straight in his +vision. The edge of the timber was alive with men. There must have been +half a hundred of them, and they were making no effort to conceal +themselves. For the first time Olaf began to give him an understanding +of the situation. + +"This is the fortieth day we've held them off," he said, in the +quick-cut, business-like voice he might have used in rendering a report +to a superior. "Eighty cartridges to begin with and a month's ration of +grub for two. All but the three last cartridges went day before +yesterday. Yesterday everything quiet. On the edge of starvation this +morning when I went out on scout duty and to take a chance at game. +Surprised a couple of them carrying meat and had a tall fight. Others +hove into action and I had to use two of my cartridges. One left--and +they're showing themselves because they know we don't dare to use +ammunition at long range. My caliber is thirty-five. What's yours?" + +"The same," replied Philip quickly, his blood beginning to thrill with +the anticipation of battle. "I'll give you half. I'm on duty from Fort +Churchill, off on a tangent of my own." He did not take his eyes from +the slit in the wall as he told Anderson in a hundred words what had +happened since his meeting with Bram Johnson. "And with forty +cartridges we'll give 'em a taste of hell," he added. + +He caught his breath, and the last word half choked itself from his +lips. He knew that Anderson was staring as hard as he. Up from the +river and over the level sweep of plain between it and the timber came +a sledge, followed by a second, a third, and a fourth. In the trail +behind the sledges trotted a score and a half of fur-clad figures. + +"It's Blake!" exclaimed Philip. + +Anderson drew himself away from the wall. In his eyes burned a curious +greenish flame, and his face was set with the hardness of iron. In that +iron was molded indistinctly the terrible smile with which he always +went into battle or fronted "his man." Slowly he turned, pointing a +long arm at each of the four walls of the cabin. + +"That's the lay of the fight," he said, making his words short and to +the point. "They can come at us on all sides, and so I've made a +six-foot gun-crevice in each wall. We can't count on Armin for anything +but the use of a club if it comes to close quarters. The walls are +built of saplings and they've got guns out there that get through. +Outside of that we've got one big advantage. The little devils are +superstitious about fighting at night, and even Blake can't force them +into it. Blake is the man I was after when I ran across Armin and his +people. GAD!" + +There was an unpleasant snap in his voice as he peered through the +gun-hole again. Philip looked across the room to Celie and her father +as he divided the cartridges. They were both listening, yet he knew +they did not understand what he and Olaf were saying. He dropped a half +of the cartridges into the right hand pocket of the Swede's service +coat, and advanced then toward Armin with both his hands held out in +greeting. Even in that tense moment he saw the sudden flash of pleasure +in Celie's eyes. Her lips trembled, and she spoke softly and swiftly to +her father, looking at Philip. Armin advanced a step, and their hands +met. At first Philip had taken him for an old man. Hair and beard were +white, his shoulders were bent, his hands were long and thin. But his +eyes, sunken deep in their sockets, had not aged with the rest of him. +They were filled with the piercing scrutiny of a hawk's as they looked +into his own, measuring him in that moment so far as man can measure +man. Then he spoke, and it was the light in Celie's eyes, her parted +lips, and the flush that came swiftly into her face that gave him an +understanding of what Armin was saying. + +From the end of the cabin Olaf's voice broke in. With it came the +metallic working of his rifle as he filled the chamber with cartridges. +He spoke first to Celie and Armin in their own language, then to Philip. + +"It's a pretty safe gamble we'd better get ready for them," he said. +"They'll soon begin. Did you split even on the cartridges?" + +"Seventeen apiece." + +Philip examined his rifle, and looked through the gun-crevice toward +the forest. He heard Olaf tugging at the dogs as he tied them to the +bunk posts; he heard Armin say something in a strained voice, and the +Swede's unintelligible reply, followed by a quick, low-voiced +interrogation from Celie. In the same moment his heart gave a sudden +jump. In the fringe of the forest he saw a long, thin line of moving +figures--ADVANCING. He did not call out a warning instantly. For a +space in which he might have taken a long breath or two his eyes and +brain were centered on the moving figures and the significance of their +drawn-out formation. Like a camera-flash his eyes ran over the +battleground. Half way between the cabin and that fringe of forest four +hundred yards away was a "hogback" in the snow, running a curving +parallel with the plain. It formed scarcely more than a three or four +foot rise in the surface, and he had given it no special significance +until now. His lips formed words as the thrill of understanding leapt +upon him. + +"They're moving!" he called to Olaf. "They're going to make a rush for +the little ridge between us and the timber. Good God, Anderson, there's +an army of them!" + +"Not more'n a hundred," replied the Swede calmly, taking his place at +the gun-crevice. "Take it easy, Phil. This will be good target +practice. We've got to make an eighty percent kill as they come across +the open. This is mighty comfortable compared with the trick they +turned on us when they got Calkins, Harris and O'Flynn. I got away in +the night." + +The moving line had paused just within the last straggling growth of +trees, as if inviting the fire of the defenders. + +Olaf grunted as he looked along the barrel of his rifle. + +"Strategy," he mumbled. "They know we're shy of ammunition." + +In the moments of tense waiting Philip found his first opportunity to +question the man at his side. First, he said: + +"I guess mebby you understand, Olaf. We've gone through a hell +together, and I love her. If we get out of this she's going to be my +wife. She's promised me that, and yet I swear to Heaven I don't know +more than a dozen words of her language. What has happened? Who is she? +Why was she with Bram Johnson? You know their language, and have been +with them--" + +"They're taking final orders," interrupted Olaf, as if he had not +heard. "There's something more on foot than a rush to the ridge. It's +Blake's scheming. See those little groups forming? They're going to +bring battering-rams, and make a second rush from the ridge." He drew +in a deep breath, and without a change in the even tone of his voice, +went on: "Calkins, Harris and O'Flynn went down in a good fight. Tell +you about that later. Hit seven days' west, and run on the camp of +Armin, his girl, and two white men--Russians--guided by two Kogmollocks +from Coronation Gulf. You can guess some of the rest. The little devils +had Blake and his gang about us two days after I struck them. Bram +Johnson and his wolves came along then--from nowhere--going nowhere. +The Kogmollocks think Bram is a great Devil, and that each of his +wolves is a Devil. If it hadn't been for that they would have murdered +us in a hurry, and Blake would have taken the girl. They were queered +by the way Bram would squat on his haunches, and stare at her. The +second day I saw him mumbling over something, and looked sharp. He had +one of Celie's long hairs, and when he saw me he snarled like an +animal, as though he feared I would take it from him. I knew what was +coming. I knew Blake was only waiting for Bram to get away from his +Kogmollocks--so I told Celie to give Bram a strand of her hair. She +did--with her own hands, and from that minute the madman watched her +like a dog. I tried to talk with him, but couldn't. I didn't seem to be +able to make him understand. And then--" + +The Swede cut himself short. + +"They're moving, Phil! Take the men with the battering rams--and let +them get half way before you fire! ... You see, Bram and his wolves had +to have meat. Blake attacked while he was gone. Russians killed--Armin +and I cornered, fighting for the girl behind us, when Bram came back +like a burst of thunder. He didn't fight. He grabbed the girl, and was +off with her like the wind with his wolf-team. Armin and I got into +this cabin, and here--forty days and nights--" + +His voice stopped ominously. A fraction of a second later it was +followed by the roar of his rifle, and at the first shot one of Blake's +Kogmollocks crumpled up with a grunt half way between the snow-ridge +and the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +The Eskimos were advancing at a trot now over the open space. Philip +was amazed at their number. There were at least a hundred, and his +heart choked with a feeling of despair even as he pulled the trigger +for his first shot. He had seen the effect of Olaf's shot, and +following the Swede's instructions aimed for his man in the nearest +group behind the main line. He did not instantly see the result, as a +puff of smoke shut out his vision, but a moment later, aiming again, he +saw a dark blotch left in the snow. From his end of the crevice Olaf +had seen the man go down, and he grunted his approbation. There were +five of the groups bearing tree trunks for battering-rams, and on one +of these Philip concentrated the six shots in his rifle. Four of the +tree-bearers went down, and the two that were left dropped their burden +and joined those ahead of them. Until Philip stepped back to reload his +gun he had not noticed Celie. She was close at his side, peering +through the gun-hole at the tragedy out on the plain. Once before he +had been astounded by the look in her face when they had been +confronted by great danger, and as his fingers worked swiftly in +refilling the magazine of his rifle he saw it there again. It was not +fear, even now. It was a more wonderful thing than that. Her wide-open +eyes glowed with a strange, dark luster; in the center of each of her +cheeks was a vivid spot of color, and her lips were parted slightly, so +that he caught the faintest gleam of her teeth. Wonderful as a fragile +flower she stood there with her eyes upon him, her splendid courage and +her faith in him flaming within her like a fire. + +And then he heard Anderson's voice: + +"They're behind the ridge. We got eight of them." + +In half a dozen places Philip had seen where bullets had bored the way +through the cabin, and leaning his gun against the wall, he sprang to +Celie and almost carried her behind the bunk that was built against the +logs. + +"You must stay here," he cried. "Do you understand! HERE!" + +She nodded, and smiled. It was a wonderful smile--a flash of tenderness +telling him that she knew what he was saying, and that she would obey +him. She made no effort to detain him with her hands, but in that +moment--if life had been the forfeit--Philip would have stolen the +precious time in which to take her in his arms. For a space he held her +close to him, his lips crushed to hers, and faced the wall again with +the throb of her soft breast still beating against his heart. He +noticed Armin standing near the door, his hand resting on a huge club +which, in turn, rested on the floor. Calmly he was waiting for the +final rush. Olaf was peering through the gun-hole again. And then came +what he had expected--a rattle of fire from the snow-ridge. The +PIT-PIT-PIT of bullets rained against the cabin in a dull tattoo. +Through the door came a bullet, sending a splinter close to Armin's +face. Almost in the same instant a second followed it, and a third came +through the crevice so close to Philip that he felt the hissing breath +of it in his face. One of the dogs emitted a wailing howl and flopped +among its comrades in uncanny convulsions. + +Olaf staggered back, and faced Philip. There was no trace of the +fighting grin in his face now. It was set like an iron mask. + +"GET DOWN!" he shouted. "Do you hear, GET DOWN!" He dropped on his +knees, crying out the warning to Armin in the other's language. +"They've got enough guns to make a sieve of this kennel if their +ammunition holds out--and the lower logs are heaviest. Flatten yourself +out until they stop firing, with your feet toward 'em, like this," and +he stretched himself out on the floor, parallel with the direction of +fire. + +In place of following the Swede's example Philip ran to Celie. Half way +a bullet almost got him, flipping the collar of his shirt. He dropped +beside her and gathered her up completely in his arms, with his own +body between her and the fire. A moment later he thanked God for the +protection of the bunk. He heard the ripping of a bullet through the +saplings and caught distinctly the thud of it as the spent lead dropped +to the floor. Celie's head was close on his breast, her eyes were on +his face, her soft lips so near he could feel their breath. He kissed +her, unbelieving even then that the end was near for her. It was +monstrous--impossible. Lead was finding its way into the cabin like +raindrops. He heard the Swede's voice again, crying thickly from the +floor: + +"Hug below the lower log. You've got eight inches. If you rise above +that they'll get you." He repeated the warning to Armin. + +As if to emphasize his words there came a howl of agony from another of +the dogs. + +Still closer Philip held the girl to him. Her hands had crept +convulsively to his neck. He crushed his face down against hers, and +waited. It came to him suddenly that Blake must be reckoning on this +very protection which he was giving Celie. He was gambling on the +chance that while the male defenders of the cabin would be wounded or +killed Celie would be sheltered until the last moment from their fire. +If that was so, the firing would soon cease until Blake learned results. + +Scarcely had he made this guess when the fusillade ended. Instead of +rifle-fire there came a sudden strange howl of voices and Olaf sprang +to his feet. Philip had risen, when the Swede's voice came to him in a +choking cry. Prepared for the rush he had expected, Olaf was making an +observation through the gun-crevice. Suddenly, without turning his +head, he yelled back at them: + +"Good God--it's Bram--Bram Johnson!" + +Even Celie realized the thrilling import of the Swede's excited words. +BRAM JOHNSON! She was only a step behind Philip when he reached the +wall. With him she looked out. Out of that finger of forest they were +coming--Bram and his wolves! The pack was free, spreading out +fan-shape, coming like the wind! Behind them was Bram--a wild and +monstrous figure against the whiteness of the plain, bearing in his +hand a giant club. His yell came to them. It rose above all other +sound, like the cry of a great beast. The wolves came faster, and then-- + +The truth fell upon those in the cabin with a suddenness that stopped +the beating of their hearts. + +Bram Johnson and his wolves were attacking the Eskimos! + +From the thrilling spectacle of the giant mad-man charging over the +plain behind his ravenous beasts Philip shifted his amazed gaze to the +Eskimos. They were no longer concealing themselves. Palsied by a +strange terror, they were staring at the onrushing horde and the +shrieking wolf-man. In those first appalling moments of horror and +stupefaction not a gun was raised or a shot fired. Then there rose from +the ranks of the Kogmollocks a strange and terrible cry, and in another +moment the plain between the forest and the snow-ridge was alive with +fleeing creatures in whose heavy brains surged the monstrous thought +that they were attacked not by man and beast, but by devils. And in +that same moment it seemed that Bram Johnson and his wolves were among +them. From man to man the beasts leapt, driven on by the shrieking +voice of their master; and now Philip saw the giant mad-man overtake +one after another of the running figures, and saw the crushing force of +his club as it fell. Celie swayed back from the wall and stood with her +hands to her face. The Swede sprang past her, flung back the bar to the +door, and opened it. Philip was a step behind him. Prom the front of +the cabin they began firing, and man after man crumpled down under +their shots. If Bram and his wolves sensed the shooting in the ferocity +of their blood-lust they paid no more attention to it than to the cries +for mercy that rose chokingly out of the throats of their enemies. In +another sixty seconds the visible part of it was over. The last of the +Kogmollocks disappeared into the edge of the forest. After them went +the wolf-man and his pack. + +Philip faced his companion. His gun was hot--and empty. The old grin +was in Olaf's face. In spite of it he shuddered. + +"We won't follow," he said. "Bram and his wolves will attend to the +trimmings, and he'll come back when the job is finished. Meanwhile +we'll get a little start for home, eh? I'm tired of this cabin. Forty +days and nights--UGH! it was HELL. Have you a spare pipeful of tobacco, +Phil? If you have--let's see, where did I leave off in that story about +Princess Celie and the Duke of Rugni?" + +"The--the--WHAT?" + +"Your tobaeco, Phil!" + +In a dazed fashion Philip handed his tobacco pouch to the Swede. + +"You said--Princess Celie--the Duke of Rugni--" + +Olaf nodded as he stuffed his pipe bowl. + +"That's it. Armin is the Duke of Rugni, whatever Rugni is. He was +chased off to Siberia a good many years ago, when Celie was a kid, that +somebody else could get hold of the Dukedom. Understand? Millions in +it, I suppose. He says some of Rasputin's old friends were behind it, +and that for a long time he was kept in the dungeons of the fortress of +St. Peter and St. Paul, with the Neva River running over his head. The +friends he had, most of them in exile or chased out of the country, +thought he was dead, and some of these friends were caring for Celie. +Just after Rasputin was killed, and before the Revolution broke out, +they learned Armin was alive and dying by inches somewhere up on the +Siberian coast. Celie's mother was Danish--died almost before Celie +could remember; but some of her relatives and a bunch of Russian exiles +in London framed up a scheme to get Armin back, chartered a ship, +sailed with Celie on board, and--" + +Olaf paused to light his pipe. + +"And they found the Duke," he added. "They escaped with him before they +learned of the Revolution, or Armin could have gone home with the rest +of the Siberian exiles and claimed his rights. For a lot of reasons +they put him aboard an American whaler, and the whaler missed its plans +by getting stuck in the ice for the winter up in Coronation Gulf. After +that they started out with dogs and sledge and guides. There's a lot +more, but that's the meat of it, Phil. I'm going to leave it to you to +learn Celie's language and get the details first-hand from her. But +she's a right enough princess, old man. And her Dad's a duke. It's up +to you to Americanize 'em. Eh, what's that?" + +Celie had come from the cabin and was standing at Philip's side, +looking up into his face, and the light which Olaf saw unhidden in her +eyes made him laugh softly: + +"And you've got the job half done, Phil. The Duke may go back and raise +the devil with the people who put him in cold storage, but Lady Celie +is going to like America. Yessir, she's going to like it better'n any +other place on the face of the earth!" + +It was late that afternoon, traveling slowly southward over the trail +of the Coppermine, when they heard far behind them the wailing cry of +Bram Johnson's wolves. The sound came only once, like the swelling +surge of a sudden sweep of wind, yet when they camped at the beginning +of darkness Philip was confident the madman and his pack were close +behind them. Utter exhaustion blotted out the hours for Celie and +himself, while Olaf, buried in two heavy Eskimo coats he had foraged +from the field of battle, sat on guard through the night. Twice in the +stillness of his long vigil he heard strange cries. Once it was the cry +of a beast. The second time it was that of a man. + +The second day, with dogs refreshed, they traveled faster, and it was +this night that they camped in the edge of timber and built a huge +fire. It was such a fire as illumined the space about them for fifty +paces or more, and it was into this light that Bram Johnson stalked, so +suddenly and so noiselessly that a sharp little cry sprang from Celie's +lips, and Olaf and Philip and the Duke of Rugni stared in wide-eyed +amazement. In his right hand the wolf-man bore a strange object. It was +an Eskimo coat, tied into the form of a bag, and in the bottom of this +improvision was a lump half the size of a water pail. Bram seemed +oblivious of all presence but that of Celie. His eyes were on her alone +as he advanced and with a weird sound in his throat deposited the +bundle at her feet. In another moment he was gone. The Swede rose +slowly from where he was sitting, and speaking casually to Celie, took +the wolf-man's gift up in his hands. Philip observed the strange look +in his face as he turned his back to Celie in the firelight and opened +the bag sufficiently to get a look inside. Then he walked out into the +darkness, and a moment later returned without the bundle, and with a +laugh apologized to Celie for his action. + +"No need of telling her what it was," he said to Philip then. "I +explained that it was foul meat Bram had brought in as a present. As a +matter of fact it was Blake's head. You know the Kogmollocks have a +pretty habit of pleasing a friend by presenting him with the head of a +dead enemy. Nice little package for her to have opened, eh?" + +After all, there are some very strange happenings in life, and the +adventurers of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police come upon their +share. The case of Bram Johnson, the mad wolf-man of the Upper Country, +happened to be one of them, and filed away in the archives of the +Department is a big envelope filled with official and personal +documents, signed and sworn to by various people. There is, for +instance, the brief and straightforward deposition of Corporal Olaf +Anderson, of the Fort Churchill Division, and there is the longer and +more detailed testimony of Mr. and Mrs. Philip Raine and the Duke of +Rugni; and attached to these depositions is a copy of an official +decision pardoning Bram Johnson and making of him a ward of the great +Dominion instead of a criminal. He is no longer hunted. "Let Bram +Johnson alone" is the word that had gone forth to the man-hunters of +the Service. It is a wise and human judgment. Bram's country is big and +wild. And he and his wolves still hunt there under the light of the +moon and the stars. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Golden Snare, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLDEN SNARE *** + +***** This file should be named 4515.txt or 4515.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/1/4515/ + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. 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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + +Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +AUTHOR OF KAZAN, THE DANGER TRAIL, THE COURAGE OF MARGE O'DOONE, +THE GRIZZLY KING, ETC. + + + + + +THE GOLDEN SNARE + + + + + +CHAPTER I + + + + +Bram Johnson was an unusual man, even for the northland. He was, +above all other things, a creature of environment--and necessity, +and of that something else which made of him at times a man with a +soul, and at others a brute with the heart of a devil. In this +story of Bram, and the girl, and the other man, Bram himself +should not be blamed too much. He was pathetic, and yet he was +terrible. It is doubtful if he really had what is generally +regarded as a soul. If he did, it was hidden--hidden to the +forests and the wild things that had made him. + +Bram's story started long before he was born, at least three +generations before. That was before the Johnsons had gone north of +Sixty. But they were wandering, and steadily upward. If one puts a +canoe in the Lower Athabasca and travels northward to the Great +Slave and thence up the Mackenzie to the Arctic he will note a +number of remarkable ethnological changes. The racial +characteristics of the world he is entering change swiftly. The +thin-faced Chippewa with his alert movements and high-bowed canoe +turns into the slower moving Cree, with his broader cheeks, his +more slanting eyes, and his racier birchbark. And even the Cree +changes as he lives farther north; each new tribe is a little +different from its southernmost neighbor, until at last the Cree +looks like a Jap, and the Chippewyan takes his place. And the +Chippewyan takes up the story of life where the Cree left off. +Nearer the Arctic his canoe becomes a skin kaiak, his face is +still broader, Ms eyes like a Chinaman's, and writers of human +history call him Eskimo. + +The Johnsons, once they started, did not stop at any particular +point. There was probably only one Johnson in the beginning of +that hundred year story which was to have its finality in Bram. +But there were more in time. The Johnson blood mixed itself first +with the Chippewa, and then with the Cree--and the Cree-Chippewa +Johnson blood, when at last it reached the Eskimo, had in it also +a strain of Chippewyan. It is curious how the name itself lived. +Johnson! One entered a tepee or a cabin expecting to find there a +white man, and was startled when he discovered the truth. + +Bram, after nearly a century of this intermixing of bloods, was a +throwback--a white man, so far as his skin and his hair and his +eyes went. In other physical ways he held to the type of his half- +strain Eskimo mother, except in size. He was six feet, and a giant +in strength. His face was broad, his cheek-bones high, his lips +thick, his nose flat. And he was WHITE. That was the shocking +thing about it all. Even his hair was a reddish blonde, wild and +coarse and ragged like a lion's mane, and his eyes were sometimes +of a curious blue, and at others--when he was angered--green like +a cat's at night-time. + +No man knew Bram for a friend. He was a mystery. He never remained +at a post longer than was necessary to exchange his furs for +supplies, and it might be months or even years before he returned +to that particular post again. He was ceaselessly wandering. More +or less the Royal Northwest Mounted Police kept track of him, and +in many reports of faraway patrols filed at Headquarters there are +the laconic words, "We saw Bram and his wolves traveling +northward" or "Bram and his wolves passed us"--always Bram AND HIS +WOLVES. For two years the Police lost track of him. That was when +Bram was buried in the heart of the Sulphur Country east of the +Great Bear. After that the Police kept an even closer watch on +him, waiting, and expecting something to happen. And then--the +something came. Bram killed a man. He did it so neatly and so +easily, breaking him as he might have broken a stick, that he was +well off in flight before it was discovered that his victim was +dead. The next tragedy followed quickly--a fortnight later, when +Corporal Lee and a private from the Fort Churchill barracks closed +in on him out on the edge of the Barren. Bram didn't fire a shot. +They could hear his great, strange laugh when they were still a +quarter of a mile away from him. Bram merely set loose his wolves. +By a miracle Corporal Lee lived to drag himself to a half-breed's +cabin, where he died a little later, and the half-breed brought +the story to Fort Churchill. + +After this, Bram disappeared from the eyes of the world. What he +lived in those four or five years that followed would well be +worth his pardon if his experiences could be made to appear +between the covers of a book. Bram--AND HIS WOLVES! Think of it. +Alone. In all that time without a voice to talk to him. Not once +appearing at a post for food. A loup-garou. An animal-man. A +companion of wolves. By the end of the third year there was not a +drop of dog-blood in his pack. It was wolf, all wolf. From whelps +he brought the wolves up, until he had twenty in his pack. They +were monsters, for the under-grown ones he killed. Perhaps he +would have given them freedom in place of death, but these wolf- +beasts of Bram's would not accept freedom. In him they recognized +instinctively the super-beast, and they were his slaves. And Bram, +monstrous and half animal himself, loved them. To him they were +brother, sister, wife--all creation. He slept with them, and ate +with them, and starved with them when food was scarce. They were +comradeship and protection. When Bram wanted meat, and there was +meat in the country, he would set his wolf-horde on the trail of a +caribou or a moose, and if they drove half a dozen miles ahead of +Bram himself there would always be plenty of meat left on the +bones when he arrived. Four years of that! The Police would not +believe it. They laughed at the occasional rumors that drifted in +from the far places; rumors that Bram had been seen, and that his +great voice had been heard rising above the howl of his pack on +still winter nights, and that half-breeds and Indians had come +upon his trails, here and there--at widely divergent places. It +was the French half-breed superstition of the chasse-galere that +chiefly made them disbelieve, and the chasse-galere is a thing not +to be laughed at in the northland. It is composed of creatures who +have sold their souls to the devil for the power of navigating the +air, and there were those who swore with their hands on the +crucifix of the Virgin that they had with their own eyes seen Bram +and his wolves pursuing the shadowy forms of great beasts through +the skies. + +So the Police believed that Bram was dead; and Bram, meanwhile, +keeping himself from all human eyes, was becoming more and more +each day like the wolves who were his brothers. But the white +blood in a man dies hard, and always there flickered in the heart +of Bram's huge chest a great yearning. It must at times have been +worse than death--that yearning to hear a human voice, to have a +human creature to speak to, though never had he loved man or +woman. Which brings us at last to the final tremendous climax in +Bram's life--to the girl, and the other man. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + + + + +The other man was Raine--Philip Raine. + +To-night he sat in Pierre Breault's cabin, with Pierre at the +opposite side of the table between them, and the cabin's sheet +iron stove blazing red just beyond. It was a terrible night +outside. Pierre, the fox hunter, had built his shack at the end of +a long slim forefinger of scrub spruce that reached out into the +Barren, and to-night the wind was wailing and moaning over the +open spaces in a way that made Raine shiver. Close to the east was +Hudson's Bay--so close that a few moments before when Raine had +opened the cabin door there came to him the low, never-ceasing +thunder of the under-currents fighting their way down through the +Roes Welcome from the Arctic Ocean, broken now and then by a +growling roar as the giant forces sent a crack, like a great +knife, through one of the frozen mountains. Westward from Pierre's +cabin there stretched the lifeless Barren, illimitable and void, +without rock or bush, and overhung at day by a sky that always +made Raine think of a terrible picture he had once seen of Dore's +"Inferno"--a low, thick sky, like purple and blue granite, always +threatening to pitch itself down in terrific avalanches. And at +night, when the white foxes yapped, and the wind moaned-- + +"As I have hope of paradise I swear that I saw him--alive, +M'sieu," Pierre was saying again over the table. + +Raine, of the Fort Churchill patrol of the Royal Northwest Mounted +Police, no longer smiled in disbelief. He knew that Pierre Breault +was a brave man, or he would not have perched himself alone out in +the heart of the Barren to catch the white foxes; and he was not +superstitious, like most of his kind, or the sobbing cries and +strife of the everlasting night-winds would have driven him away. + +"I swear it!" repeated Pierre. + +Something that was almost eagerness was burning now in Philip's +face. He leaned over the table, his hands gripping tightly. He was +thirty-five; almost slim as Pierre himself, with eyes as steely +blue as Pierre's were black. There was a time, away back, when he +wore a dress suit as no other man in the big western city where he +lived; now the sleeves of his caribou skin coat were frayed and +torn, his hands were knotted, in his face were the lines of storm +and wind. + +"It is impossible," he said. "Bram Johnson is dead!" + +"He is alive, M'sieu." + +In Pierre's voice there was a strange tremble. + +"If I had only HEARD, if I had not SEEN, you might disbelieve, +M'sieu," he cried, his eyes glowing with a dark fire. "Yes, I +heard the cry of the pack first, and I went to the door, and +opened it, and stood there listening and looking out into the +night. UGH! they went near. I could hear the hoofs of the caribou. +And then I heard a great cry, a voice that rose above the howl of +the wolves like the voice of ten men, and I knew that Bram Johnson +was on the trail of meat. MON DIEU--yes--he is alive. And that is +not all. No. No. That is not all--" + +His fingers were twitching. For the third or fourth time in the +last three-quarters of an hour Raine saw him fighting back a +strange excitement. His own incredulity was gone. He was beginning +to believe Pierre. + +"And after that--you saw him?" + +"Yes. I would not do again what I did then for all the foxes +between the Athabasca and the Bay, M'sieu. It must have been--I +don't know what. It dragged me out into the night. I followed. I +found the trail of the wolves, and I found the snowshoe tracks of +a man. Oui. I still followed. I came close to the kill, with the +wind in my face, and I could hear the snapping of jaws and the +rending of flesh--yes--yes--AND A MAN'S TERRIBLE LAUGH! If the +wind had shifted--if that pack of devils' souls had caught the +smell of me--tonnerre de dieu!" He shuddered, and the knuckles of +his fingers snapped as he clenched and unclenched his hands. "But +I stayed there, M'sieu, half buried in a snow dune. They went on +after a long time. It was so dark I could not see them. I went to +the kill then, and--yes, he had carried away the two hind quarters +of the caribou. It was a bull, too, and heavy. I followed--clean +across that strip of Barren down to the timber, and it was there +that Bram built himself the fire. I could see him then, and I +swear by the Blessed Virgin that it was Bram! Long ago, before he +killed the man, he came twice to my cabin--and he had not +changed. And around him, in the fire-glow, the wolves huddled. It +was then that I came to my reason. I could see him fondling them. +I could see their gleaming fangs. Yes, I could HEAR their bodies, +and he was talking to them and laughing with them through his +great beard--and I turned and fled back to the cabin, running so +swiftly that even the wolves would have had trouble in catching +me. And that--that--WAS NOT ALL!" + +Again his fingers were clenching and unclenching as he stared at +Raine. + +"You believe me, M'sieu?" + +Philip nodded. + +"It seems impossible. And yet--you could not have been dreaming, +Pierre." + +Breault drew a deep breath of satisfaction, and half rose to his +feet. + +"And you will believe me if I tell you the rest?" + +"Yes." + +Swiftly Pierre went to his bunk and returned with the caribou skin +pouch in which he carried his flint and steel and fire material +for the trail. + +"The next day I went back, M'sieu," he said, seating himself again +opposite Philip. "Bram and his wolves were gone. He had slept in a +shelter of spruce boughs. And--and--par les mille cornes du diable +if he had even brushed the snow out! His great moccasin tracks +were all about among the tracks of the wolves, and they were big +as the spoor of a monster bear. I searched everywhere for +something that he might have left, and I found--at last--a rabbit +snare." + +Pierre Breault's eyes, and not his words--and the curious twisting +and interlocking of his long slim fingers about the caribou-skin +bag in his hand stirred Philip with the thrill of a tense and +mysterious anticipation, and as he waited, uttering no word, +Pierre's fingers opened the sack, and he said: + +"A rabbit snare, M'sieu, which had dropped from his pocket into +the snow--" + +In another moment he had given it into Philip's hands. The oil +lamp was hung straight above them. Its light flooded the table +between them, and from Philip's lips, as he stared at the snare, +there broke a gasp of amazement. Pierre had expected that cry. He +had at first been disbelieved; now his face burned with triumph. +It seemed, for a space, as if Philip had ceased breathing. He +stared--stared--while the light from above him scintillated on the +thing he held. It was a snare. There could be no doubt of that. It +was almost a yard in length, with the curious Chippewyan loop at +one end and the double-knot at the other. + +The amazing thing about it was that it was made of a woman's +golden hair. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + + + + +The process of mental induction occasionally does not pause to +reason its way, but leaps to an immediate and startling finality, +which, by reason of its very suddenness, is for a space like the +shock of a sudden blow. After that one gasp of amazement Philip +made no sound. He spoke no word to Pierre. In a sudden lull of the +wind sweeping over the cabin the ticking of his watch was like the +beating of a tiny drum. Then, slowly, his eyes rose from the +silken thread in his fingers and met Pierre's. Each knew what the +other was thinking. If the hair had been black. If it had been +brown. Even had it been of the coarse red of the blond Eskimo of +the upper Mackenzie! But it was gold--shimmering gold. + +Still without speaking, Philip drew a knife from his pocket and +cut the shining thread above the second knot, and worked at the +finely wrought weaving of the silken filaments until a tress of +hair, crinkled and waving, lay on the table before them. If he had +possessed a doubt, it was gone now. He could not remember where he +had ever seen just that colored gold in a woman's hair. Probably +he had, at one time or another. It was not red gold. It possessed +no coppery shades and lights as it rippled there in the lamp glow. +It was flaxen, and like spun silk--so fine that, as he looked at +it, he marveled at the patience that had woven it into a snare. +Again he looked at Pierre. The same question was in their eyes. + +"It must be--that Bram has a woman with him," said Pierre. + +"It must be," said Philip. "Or--" + +That final word, its voiceless significance, the inflection which +Philip gave to it as he gazed at Pierre, stood for the one +tremendous question which, for a space, possessed the mind of +each. Pierre shrugged his shoulders. He could not answer it. And +as he shrugged his shoulders he shivered, and at a sudden blast of +the wind against the cabin door he turned quickly, as though he +thought the blow might have been struck by a human hand. + +"Diable!" he cried, recovering himself, his white teeth flashing a +smile at Philip. "It has made me nervous--what I saw there in the +light of the campfire, M'sieu. Bram, and his wolves, and THAT!" + +He nodded at the shimmering strands. + +"You have never seen hair the color of this, Pierre?" + +"Non. In all my life--not once." + +"And yet you have seen white women at Fort Churchill, at York +Factory, at Lac la Biche, at Cumberland House, and Norway House, +and at Fort Albany?" + +"Ah-h-h, and at many other places, M'sieu. At God's Lake, at Lac +Seul, and over on the Mackenzie--and never have I seen hair on a +woman like that." + +"And Bram has never been out of the northland, never farther south +than Fort Chippewyan that we know of," said Philip. "It makes one +shiver, eh, Pierre? It makes one think of--WHAT? Can't you answer? +Isn't it in your mind?" + +French and Cree were mixed half and half in Pierre's blood. The +pupils of his eyes dilated as he met Philip's steady gaze. + +"It makes one think," he replied uneasily, "of the chasse-galere +and the loup-garou, and--and--almost makes one believe. I am not +superstitious, M'sieu--non--non--I am not superstitious," he cried +still more uneasily. "But many strange things are told about Bram +and his wolves;--that he has sold his soul to the devil, and can +travel through the air, and that he can change himself into the +form of a wolf at will. There are those who have heard him singing +the Chanson de Voyageur to the howling of his wolves away up in +the sky. I have seen them, and talked with them, and over on the +McLeod I saw a whole tribe making incantation because they had +seen Bram and his wolves building themselves a conjuror's house in +the heart of a thunder-cloud. So--is it strange that he should +snare rabbits with, a woman's hair?" + +"And change black into the color of the sun?" added Philip, +falling purposely into the other's humor. + +"If the rest is true--" + +Pierre did not finish. He caught himself, swallowing hard, as +though a lump had risen in his throat, and for a moment or two +Philip saw him fighting with himself, struggling with the age-old +superstitions which had flared up for an instant like a powder- +flash. His jaws tightened, and he threw back his head. + +"But those stories are NOT true, M'sieu," he added in a repressed +voice. "That is why I showed you the snare. Bram Johnson is not +dead. He is alive. And there is a woman with him, or--" + +"Or--" + +The same thought was in their eyes again. And again neither gave +voice to it. Carefully Philip was gathering up the strands of +hair, winding them about his forefinger, and placing them +afterward in a leather wallet which he took from his pocket. Then, +quite casually, he loaded his pipe and lighted it. He went to the +door, opened it, and for a few moments stood listening to the +screech of the wind over the Barren. Pierre, still seated at the +table, watched him attentively. Philip's mind was made up when he +closed the door and faced the half-breed again. + +"It is three hundred miles from here to Fort Churchill," he said. +"Half way, at the lower end of Jesuche Lake, MacVeigh and his +patrol have made their headquarters. If I go after Bram, Pierre, I +must first make certain of getting a message to MacVeigh, and he +will see that it gets to Fort Churchill. Can you leave your foxes +and poison-baits and your deadfalls long enough for that?" + +A moment Pierre hesitated. + +Then he said: + +"I will take the message." + +Until late that night Philip sat up writing his report. He had +started out to run down a band of Indian thieves. More important +business had crossed his trail, and he explained the whole matter +to Superintendent Fitzgerald, commanding "M" Division at Fort +Churchill. He told Pierre Breault's story as he had heard it. He +gave his reasons for believing it, and that Bram Johnson, three +times a murderer, was alive. He asked that another man be sent +after the Indians, and explained, as nearly as he could, the +direction he would take in his pursuit of Bram. + +When the report was finished and sealed he had omitted just one +thing. + +Not a word had he written about the rabbit snare woven from a +woman's hair. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + + + +The next morning the tail of the storm was still sweeping bitterly +over the edge of the Barren, but Philip set out, with Pierre +Breault as his guide, for the place where the half-breed had seen +Bram Johnson and his wolves in camp. Three days had passed since +that exciting night, and when they arrived at the spot where Bram +had slept the spruce shelter was half buried in a windrow of the +hard, shot like snow that the blizzard had rolled in off the open +spaces. + +From this point Pierre marked off accurately the direction Bram +had taken the morning after the hunt, and Philip drew the point of +his compass to the now invisible trail. Almost instantly he drew +his conclusion. + +"Bram is keeping to the scrub timber along the edge of the +Barren," he said to Pierre. "That is where I shall follow. You +might add that much to what I have written to MacVeigh. But about +the snare, Pierre Breault, say not a word. Do you understand? If +he is a loup-garou man, and weaves golden hairs out of the winds--" + +"I will say nothing, M'sieu," shuddered Pierre. + +They shook hands, and parted in silence. Philip set his face to +the west, and a few moments later, looking back, he could no +longer see Pierre. For an hour after that he was oppressed by the +feeling that he was voluntarily taking a desperate chance. For +reasons which he had arrived at during the night he had left his +dogs and sledge with Pierre, and was traveling light. In his +forty-pound pack, fitted snugly to his shoulders, were a three +pound silk service-tent that was impervious to the fiercest wind, +and an equal weight of cooking utensils. The rest of his burden, +outside of his rifle, his Colt's revolver and his ammunition, was +made up of rations, so much of which was scientifically compressed +into dehydrated and powder form that he carried on his back, in a +matter of thirty pounds, food sufficient for a month if he +provided his meat on the trail. The chief article in this +provision was fifteen pounds of flour; four dozen eggs he carried +in one pound of egg powder; twenty-eight pounds of potatoes in +four pounds of the dehydrated article; four pounds of onions in a +quarter of a pound of the concentration, and so on through the +list. + +He laughed a little grimly as he thought of this concentrated +efficiency in the pack on his shoulders. In a curious sort of way +it reminded him of other days, and he wondered what some of his +old-time friends would say if he could, by some magic endowment, +assemble them here for a feast on the trail. He wondered +especially what Mignon Davenport would say--and do. P-f-f-f! He +could see the blue-blooded horror in her aristocratic face! That +wind from over the Barren would curdle the life in her veins. She +would shrivel up and die. He considered himself a fairly good +judge in the matter, for once upon a time he thought that he was +going to marry her. Strange why he should think of her now, he +told himself; but for all that he could not get rid of her for a +time. And thinking of her, his mind traveled back into the old +days, even as he followed over the hidden trail of Bram. +Undoubtedly a great many of his old friends had forgotten him. +Five years was a long time, and friendship in the set to which he +belonged was not famous for its longevity. Nor love, for that +matter. Mignon had convinced him of that. He grimaced, and in the +teeth of the wind he chuckled. Fate was a playful old chap. It was +a good joke he had played on him--first a bit of pneumonia, then a +set of bad lungs afflicted with that "galloping" something-or-other +that hollows one's cheeks and takes the blood out of one's +veins. It was then that the horror had grown larger and larger +each day in Mignon's big baby-blue eyes, until she came out with +childish frankness and said that it was terribly embarrassing to +have one's friends know that one was engaged to a consumptive. + +Philip laughed as he thought of that. The laugh came so suddenly +and so explosively that Bram could have heard it a hundred yards +away, even with the wind blowing as it was. A consumptive! Philip +doubled up his arm until the hard muscles in it snapped. He drew +in a deep lungful of air, and forced it out again with a sound +like steam escaping from a valve. The NORTH had done that for him; +the north with its wonderful forests, its vast skies, its rivers, +and its lakes, and its deep snows--the north that makes a man out +of the husk of a man if given half a chance. He loved it. And +because he loved it, and the adventure of it, he had joined the +Police two years ago. Some day he would go back, just for the fun +of it; meet his old friends in his old clubs, and shock baby-eyed +Mignon to death with his good health. + +He dropped these meditations as he thought of the mysterious man +he was following. During the course of his two years in the +Service he had picked up a great many odds and ends in the history +of Bram's life, and in the lives of the Johnsons who had preceded +him. He had never told any one how deeply interested he was. He +had, at times, made efforts to discuss the quality of Bram's +intelligence, but always he had failed to make others see and +understand his point of view. By the Indians and half-breeds of +the country in which he had lived, Bram was regarded as a monster +of the first order possessed of the conjuring powers of the devil +himself. By the police he was earnestly desired as the most +dangerous murderer at large in all the north, and the lucky man +who captured him, dead or alive, was sure of a sergeantcy. +Ambition and hope had run high in many valiant hearts until it was +generally conceded that Bram was dead. + +Philip was not thinking of the sergeantcy as he kept steadily +along the edge of the Barren. His service would shortly be up, and +he had other plans for the future. From the moment his fingers had +touched the golden strand of hair he had been filled with a new +and curious emotion. It possessed him even more strongly to-day +than it had last night. He had not given voice to that emotion, or +to the thoughts it had roused, even to Pierre. Perhaps he was +ridiculous. But he possessed imagination, and along with that a +great deal of sympathy for animals--and some human beings. He had, +for the time, ceased to be the cool and calculating man-hunter +intent on the possession of another's life. He knew that his duty +was to get Bram and take him back to headquarters, and he also +knew that he would perform his duty when the opportunity came-- +unless he had guessed correctly the significance of the golden +snare. + +And had he guessed correctly? There was a tremendous doubt in his +mind, and yet he was strangely thrilled. He tried to argue that +there were many ways in which Bram might have secured the golden +hairs that had gone into the making of his snare; and that the +snare itself might long have been carried as a charm against the +evils of disease and the devil by the strange creature whose mind +and life were undoubtedly directed to a large extent by +superstition. In that event it was quite logical that Bram had +come into possession of his golden talisman years ago. + +In spite of himself, Philip could not believe that this was so. At +noon, when he built a small fire to make tea and warm his bannock, +he took the golden tress from his wallet and examined it even more +closely than last night. It might have come from a woman's head +only yesterday, so bright and shimmery was it in the pale light of +the midday sun. He was amazed at the length and fineness of it, +and the splendid texture of each hair. Possibly there were half a +hundred hairs, each of an equal and unbroken length. + +He ate his dinner, and went on. Three days of storm had covered +utterly every trace of the trail made by Bram and his wolves. He +was convinced, however, that Bram would travel in the scrub timber +close to the Barren. He had already made up his mind that this +Barren--the Great Barren of the unmapped north--was the great snow +sea in which Bram had so long found safety from the law. Beaching +five hundred miles east and west, and almost from the Sixtieth +degree to the Arctic Ocean, its un-peopled and treeless wastes +formed a tramping ground for him as safe as the broad Pacific to +the pirates of old. He could not repress a shivering exclamation +as his mind dwelt on this world of Bram's. It was worse than the +edge of the Arctic, where one might at least have the Eskimo for +company. + +He realized the difficulty of his own quest. His one chance lay in +fair weather, and the discovery of an old trail made by Bram and +his pack. An old trail would lead to fresher ones. Also he was +determined to stick to the edge of the scrub timber, for if the +Barren was Bram's retreat he would sooner or later strike a trail +--unless Bram had gone straight out into the vast white plain +shortly after he had made his camp in the forest near Pierre +Breault's cabin. In that event it might be weeks before Bram would +return to the scrub timber again. + +That night the last of the blizzard that had raged for days +exhausted itself. For a week clear weather followed. It was +intensely cold, but no snow fell. In that week Philip traveled a +hundred and twenty miles westward. + +It was on the eighth night, as he sat near his fire in a thick +clump of dwarf spruce, that the thing happened which Pierre +Breault, with a fatalism born of superstition, knew would come to +pass. And it is curious that on this night, and in the very hour +of the strange happening, Philip had with infinite care and a +great deal of trouble rewoven the fifty hairs back into the form +of the golden snare. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + + + + +The night was so bright that the spruce trees cast vivid shadows +on the snow. Overhead there were a billion stars in a sky as dear +as an open sea, and the Great Dipper shone like a constellation of +tiny suns. The world did not need a moon. At a distance of three +hundred yards Philip could have seen a caribou if it had passed. +He sat close to his fire, with the heat of it reflected from the +blackened face of a huge rock, finishing the snare which had taken +him an hour to weave. For a long time he had been conscious of the +curious, hissing monotone of the Aurora, the "music of the skies," +reaching out through the space of the earth with a purring sound +that was at times like the purr of a cat and at others like the +faint hum of a bee. Absorbed in his work he did not, for a time, +hear the other sound. Not until he had finished, and was placing +the golden snare in his wallet, did the one sound individualize +and separate itself from the other. + +He straightened himself suddenly, and listened. Then he jumped to +his feet and ran through fifty feet of low scrub to the edge of +the white plain. + +It was coming from off there, a great distance away. Perhaps a +mile. It might be two. The howling of wolves! + +It was not a new or unusual sound to him. He had listened to it +many times during the last two years. But never had it thrilled +him as it did now, and he felt the blood leap in sudden swiftness +through his body as the sound bore straight in his direction. In a +flash he remembered all that Pierre Breault had said. Bram and his +pack hunted like that. And it was Bram who was coming. He knew it. + +He ran back to his tent and in what remained of the heat of the +fire he warmed for a few moments the breech of his rifle. Then he +smothered the fire by kicking snow over it. Returning to the edge +of the plain, he posted himself near the largest spruce he could +find, up which it would be possible for him to climb a dozen feet +or so if necessity drove him to it. And this necessity bore down +upon him like the wind. The pack, whether guided by man or beast, +was driving straight at him, and it was less than a quarter of a +mile away when Philip drew himself up in the spruce. His breath +came quick, and his heart was thumping like a drum, for as he +climbed up the slender refuge that was scarcely larger in diameter +than his arm he remembered the time when he had hung up a thousand +pounds of moose meat on cedars as thick as his leg, and the wolves +had come the next night and gnawed them through as if they had +been paper. From his unsteady perch ten feet off the ground he +stared out into the starlit Barren. + +Then came the other sound. It was the swift chug, chug, chug of +galloping feet--of hoofs breaking through the crust of the snow. A +shape loomed up, and Philip knew it was a caribou running for its +life. He drew an easier breath as he saw that the animal was +fleeing parallel with the projecting finger of scrub in which he +had made his camp, and that it would strike the timber a good mile +below him. And now, with a still deeper thrill, he noted the +silence of the pursuing wolves. It meant but one thing. They were +so close on the heels of their prey that they no longer made a +sound. Scarcely had the caribou disappeared when Philip saw the +first of them--gray, swiftly moving shapes, spread out fan-like as +they closed in on two sides for attack, so close that he could +hear the patter of their feet and the blood-curdling whines that +came from between their gaping jaws. There were at least twenty of +them, perhaps thirty, and they were gone with the swiftness of +shadows driven by a gale. + +From his uncomfortable position Philip lowered himself to the snow +again. With its three or four hundred yard lead he figured that +the caribou would almost reach the timber a mile away before the +end came. Concealed in the shadow of the spruce, he waited. He +made no effort to analyze the confidence with which he watched for +Bram. When he at last heard the curious ZIP--ZIP--ZIP of snowshoes +approaching his blood ran no faster than it had in the preceding +minutes of his expectation, so sure had he been that the man he +was after would soon loom up out of the starlight. In the brief +interval after the passing of the wolves he had made up his mind +what he would do. Fate had played a trump card into his hand. From +the first he had figured that strategy would have much to do in +the taking of Bram, who would be practically unassailable when +surrounded by the savage horde which, at a word from him, had +proved themselves ready to tear his enemies into pieces. Now, with +the wolves gorging themselves, his plan was to cut Bram off and +make him, a prisoner. + +From his knees he rose slowly to his feet, still hidden in the +shadow of the spruce. His rifle he discarded. In his un-mittened +hand he held his revolver. With staring eyes he looked for Bram +out where the wolves had passed. And then, all at once, came the +shock. It was tremendous. The trickery of sound on the Barren had +played an unexpected prank with his senses, and while he strained +his eyes to pierce the hazy starlight of the plain far out, Bram +himself loomed up suddenly along the edge of the bush not twenty +paces away. + +Philip choked back the cry on his lips, and in that moment Bram +stopped short, standing full in the starlight, his great lungs +taking in and expelling air with a gasping sound as he listened +for his wolves. He was a giant of a man. A monster, Philip +thought. It is probable that the elusive glow of the night added +to his size as he stood there. About his shoulders fell a mass of +unkempt hair that looked like seaweed. His beard was short and +thick, and for a flash Philip saw the starlight in his eyes--eyes +that were shining like the eyes of a cat. In that same moment he +saw the face. It was a terrible, questing face--the face of a +creature that was hunting, and yet hunted; of a creature half +animal and half man. So long as he lived he knew that he would +never forget it; the wild savagery of it, the questing fire that +was in the eyes, the loneliness of it there in the night, set +apart from all mankind; and with the face he would never forget +that other thing that came to him audibly--the throbbing, gasping +heartbeat of the man's body. + +In this moment Philip knew that the time to act was at hand. His +fingers gripped tighter about the butt of his revolver as he +stepped forward out of the shadow. + +Bram would have seen him then, but in that same instant he had +flung back his head and from his throat there went forth a cry +such as Philip had never heard from man or beast before. It began +deep in Bram's cavernous chest, like the rolling of a great drum, +and ended in a wailing shriek that must have carried for miles +over the open plain--the call of the master to his pack, of the +man-beast to his brothers. It may be that even before the cry was +finished some super-instinct had warned Bram Johnson of a danger +which he had not seen. The cry was cut short. It ended in a +hissing gasp, as steam is cut off by a valve. Before Philip's +startled senses had adjusted themselves to action Bram was off, +and as his huge strides carried him swiftly through the starlight +the cry that had been on his lips was replaced by the strange, mad +laugh that Pierre Breault had described with a shiver of fear. + +Without moving, Philip called after him: + +"Bram--Bram Johnson--stop! In the name of the King--" + +It was the old formula, the words that carried with them the +majesty and power of Law throughout the northland. Bram heard +them. But he did not stop. He sped on more swiftly, and again +Philip called his name. + +"Bram--Bram Johnson--" + +The laugh came back again. It was weird and chuckling, as though +Bram was laughing at him. + +In the starlight Philip flung up his revolver. He did not aim to +hit. Twice he fired over Bram's head and shoulders, so close that +the fugitive must have heard the whine of the bullets. + +"Bram--Bram Johnson!" he shouted a third time. + +His pistol arm relaxed and dropped to his side, and he stood +staring after the great figure that was now no more than a shadow +in the gloom. And then it was swallowed up entirely. Once more he +was alone under the stars, encompassed by a world of nothingness. +He felt, all at once, that he had been a very great fool. He had +played his part like a child; even his voice had trembled as he +called out Bram's name. And Bram--even Bram--had laughed at him. + +Very soon he would pay the price of his stupidity--of his slowness +to act. It was thought of that which quickened his pulse as he +stared out into the white space into which Bram had gone. Before +the night was over Bram would return, and with him would come the +wolves. + +With a shudder Philip thought of Corporal Lee as he turned back +through the scrub to the big rock where he had made his camp. + +The picture that flashed into his mind of the fate of the two men +from Churchill added to the painful realization of his own +immediate peril--a danger brought upon himself by an almost +inconceivable stupidity. Philip was no more than the average human +with good red blood in his veins. A certain amount of personal +hazard held a fascination for him, but he had also the very great +human desire to hold a fairly decent hand in any game of chance he +entered. It was the oppressive conviction that he had no chance +now that stunned him. For a few minutes he stood over the spot +where his fire had been, a film of steam rising into his face, +trying to adjust his mind to some sort of logical action. He was +not afraid of Bram. He would quite cheerfully have gone out and +fought open-handedly for his man, even though he had seen that +Bram was a giant. This, much he told himself, as he fingered the +breech of his rifle, and listened. + +But it was not Bram who would fight. The wolves would come. He +probably would not see Bram again. He would hear only his laugh, +or his great voice urging on his pack, as Corporal Lee and the +other man had heard it. + +That Bram would not return for vengeance never for a moment +entered his analysis of the situation. By firing after his man +Philip had too clearly disclosed his identity and his business; +and Bram, fighting for his own existence, would be a fool not to +rid himself of an immediate and dangerous enemy. + +And then, for the first time since he had returned from the edge +of the Barren, Philip saw the man again as he had seen him +standing under the white glow of the stars. And it struck him, all +at once, that Bram had been unarmed. Comprehension of this fact, +slow as it had been, worked a swift and sudden hope in him, and +his eyes took in quickly the larger trees about him. From a tree +he could fight the pack and kill them one by one. He had a rifle +and a revolver, and plenty of ammunition. The advantage would lay +all with him. But if he was treed, and Bram happened to have a +rifle-- + +He put on the heavy coat he had thrown off near the fire, filled +his pockets with loose ammunition, and hunted for the tree he +wanted. He found it a hundred yards from his camp. It was a +gnarled and wind-blown spruce six inches in diameter, standing in +an open. In this open Philip knew that he could play havoc with +the pack. On the other hand, if Bram possessed a rifle, the gamble +was against him. Perched in the tree, silhouetted against the +stars that made the night like day, he would be an easy victim. +Bram could pick him off without showing himself. But it was his +one chance, and he took it. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + + + +An hour later Philip looked at his watch. It was close to +midnight. In that hour his nerves had been keyed to a tension that +was almost at the breaking point. Not a sound came from off the +Barren or from out of the scrub timber that did not hold a mental +and physical shock for him. He believed that Bram and his pack +would come up quietly; that he would not hear the man's footsteps +or the soft pads of his beasts until they were very near. Twice a +great snow owl fluttered over his head. A third time it pounced +down upon a white hare back in the shrub, and for an instant +Philip thought the time had come. The little white foxes, curious +as children, startled him most. Half a dozen times they sent +through him the sharp thrill of anticipation, and twice they made +him climb his tree. + +After that hour the reaction came, and with the steadying of his +nerves and the quieter pulse of his blood Philip began to ask +himself if he was going to escape the ordeal which a short time +before he had accepted as a certainty. Was it possible that his +shots had frightened Bram? He could not believe that. Cowardice +was the last thing he would associate with the strange man he had +seen in the starlight. Vividly he saw Bram's face again. And now, +after the almost unbearable strain he had been under, a mysterious +SOMETHING that had been in that face impinged itself upon him +above all other things. Wild and savage as the face had been, he +had seen in it the unutterable pathos of a creature without hope. +In that moment, even as caution held him listening for the +approach of danger, he no longer felt the quickening thrill of man +on the hunt for man. He could not have explained the change in +himself--the swift reaction of thought and emotion that filled him +with a mastering sympathy for Bram Johnson. + +He waited, and less and less grew his fear of the wolves. Even +more clearly he saw Bram as the time passed; the hunted look in +the man's eyes, even as he hunted--the loneliness of him as he had +stood listening for a sound from the only friends he had--the +padded beasts ahead. In spite of Bram's shrieking cry to his pack, +and the strangeness of the laugh that had floated back out of the +white night after the shots, Philip was convinced that he was not +mad. He had heard of men whom loneliness had killed. He had known +one--Pelletier, up at Point Fullerton, on the Arctic. He could +repeat by heart the diary Pelletier had left scribbled on his +cabin door. It was worse than madness. To Pelletier death had come +at last as a friend. And Bram had been like that--dead to human +comradeship for years. And yet-- + +Under it all, in Philip's mind, ran the thought of the woman's +hair. In Pierre Breault's cabin he had not given voice to the +suspicion that had flashed upon him. He had kept it to himself, +and Pierre, afraid to speak because of the horror of it, had +remained as silent as he. The thought oppressed him now. He knew +that human hair retained its life and its gloss indefinitely, and +that Bram might have had the golden snare for years. It was quite +reasonable to suppose that he had bartered for it with some white +man in the years before he had become an outlaw, and that some +curious fancy or superstition had inspired him in its possession. +But Philip had ceased to be influenced by reason alone. Sharply +opposed to reason was that consciousness within him which told him +that the hair had been freshly cut from a woman's head. He had no +argument with which to drive home the logic of this belief even +with himself, and yet he found it impossible not to accept that +belief fully and unequivocally. There was, or HAD been, a woman +with Bram--and as he thought of the length and beauty and rare +texture of the silken strand in his pocket he could not repress a +shudder at the possibilities the situation involved. Bram--and a +woman! And a woman with hair like that! + +He left his tree after a time. For another hour he paced slowly +back and forth at the edge of the Barren, his senses still keyed +to the highest point of caution. Then he rebuilt his fire, pausing +every few moments in the operation to listen for a suspicious +sound. It was very cold. He noticed, after a little, that the +weird sound of the lights over the Pole had become only a ghostly +whisper. The stars were growing dimmer, and he watched them as +they seemed slowly to recede farther and farther away from the +world of which he was a part. This dying out of the stars always +interested him. It was one of the miracles of the northern world +that lay just under the long Arctic night which, a few hundred +miles beyond the Barren, was now at its meridian. It seemed to him +as though ten thousand invisible hands were sweeping under the +heavens extinguishing the lights first in ones and twos and then +in whole constellations. It preceded by perhaps half an hour the +utter and chaotic blackness that comes before the northern dawn, +and it was this darkness that Philip dreaded as he waited beside +his fire. + +In the impenetrable gloom of that hour Bram might come. It was +possible that he had been waiting for that darkness. Philip looked +at his watch. It was four o'clock. Once more he went to his tree, +and waited. In another quarter of an hour he could not see the +tree beside which he stood. And Bram did not come. With the +beginning of the gray dawn Philip rebuilt his fire for the third +time and prepared to cook his breakfast. He felt the need of +coffee--strong coffee--and he boiled himself a double ration. At +seven o'clock he was ready to take up the trail. + +He believed now that some mysterious and potent force had +restrained Bram Johnson from taking advantage of the splendid +opportunity of that night to rid himself of an enemy. As he made +his way through the scrub timber along the edge of the Barren it +was with the feeling that he no longer desired Bram as a prisoner. +A thing more interesting than Bram had entered into the adventure. +It was the golden snare. Not with Bram himself, but only at the +end of Bram's trail, would he find what the golden snare stood +for. There he would discover the mystery and the tragedy of it, if +it meant anything at all. He appreciated the extreme hazard of +following Bram to his long hidden retreat. The man he might outwit +in pursuit and overcome in fair fight, if it came to a fight, but +against the pack he was fighting tremendous odds. + +What this odds meant had not fully gripped him until he came +cautiously out of the timber half an hour later and saw what was +left of the caribou the pack had killed. The bull had fallen +within fifty yards of the edge of the scrub. For a radius of +twenty feet about it the snow was beaten hard by the footprints of +beasts, and this arena was stained red with blood and scattered +thickly with bits of flesh, broken bones and patches of hide. +Philip could see where Bram had come in on the run, and where he +had kicked off his snowshoes. After that his great moccasin tracks +mingled with those of the wolves. Bram had evidently come in time +to save the hind quarters, which had been dragged to a spot well +out of the red ring of slaughter. After that the stars must have +looked down upon an amazing scene. The hungry horde had left +scarcely more than the disemboweled offal. Where Bram had dragged +his meat there was a small circle worn by moccasin tracks, and +here, too, were small bits of flesh, scattered about--the +discarded remnants of Bram's own feast. + +The snow told as clearly as a printed page what had happened after +that. Its story amazed Philip. From somewhere Bram had produced a +sledge, and on this sledge he had loaded what remained of the +caribou meat. From the marks in the snow Philip saw that it had +been of the low ootapanask type, but that it was longer and +broader than any sledge he had ever seen. He did not have to guess +at what had happened. Everything was too clear for that. Far back +on the Barren Bram had loosed his pack at sight of the caribou, +and the pursuit and kill had followed. After that, when beasts and +man had gorged themselves, they had returned through the night for +the sledge. Bram had made a wide detour so that he would not again +pass near the finger of scrub timber that concealed his enemy, and +with a curious quickening of the blood in his veins Philip +observed how closely the pack hung at his heels. The man was +master--absolutely. Later they had returned with the sledge, Bram +had loaded his meat, and with his pack had struck out straight +north over the Barren. Every wolf was in harness, and Bram rode on +the sledge. + +Philip drew a deep breath. He was learning new things about Bram +Johnson. First he assured himself that Bram was not afraid, and +that his disappearance could not be called a flight. If fear of +capture had possessed him he would not have returned for his meat. +Suddenly he recalled Pierre Breault's story of how Bram had +carried off the haunches of a bull upon his shoulders as easily as +a child might have carried a toy gun, and he wondered why Bram-- +instead of returning for the meat this night--had not carried the +meat to his sledge. It would have saved time and distance. He was +beginning to give Bram credit for a deeply mysterious strategy. +There was some definite reason why he had not made an attack with +his wolves that night. There was a reason for the wide detour +around the point of timber, and there was a still more +inexplicable reason why he had come back with his sledge for the +meat, instead of carrying his meat to the sledge. The caribou +haunch had not weighed more than sixty or seventy pounds, which +was scarcely half a burden for Bram's powerful shoulders. + +In the edge of the timber, where he could secure wood for his +fire, Philip began to prepare. He cooked food for six days. Three +days he would follow Bram out into that unmapped and treeless +space--the Great Barren. Beyond that it would be impossible to go +without dogs or sledge. Three days out, and three days back--and +even at that he would be playing a thrilling game with death. In +the heart of the Barren a menace greater than Bram and his wolves +would be impending. It was storm. + +His heart sank a little as he set out straight north, marking the +direction by the point of his compass. It was a gray and sunless +day. Beyond him for a distance the Barren was a white plain, and +this plain seemed always to be merging not very far ahead into the +purple haze of the sky. At the end of an hour he was in the center +of a vast amphitheater which was filled with the gloom and the +stillness of death. Behind him the thin fringe of the forest had +disappeared. The rim of the sky was like a leaden thing, widening +only as he advanced. Under that sky, and imprisoned within its +circular walls, he knew that men had gone mad; he felt already the +crushing oppression of an appalling loneliness, and for another +hour he fought an almost irresistible desire to turn back. Not a +rock or a shrub rose to break the monotony, and over his head--so +low that at times it seemed as though he might have flung a stone +up to them--dark clouds rolled sullenly from out of the north and +east. + +Half a dozen times in those first two hours he looked at his +compass. Not once in that time did Bram diverge from his steady +course into the north. In the gray gloom, without a stone or a +tree to mark his way, his sense of orientation was directing him +as infallibly as the sensitive needle of the instrument which +Philip carried. + +It was in the third hour, seven or eight miles from the scene of +slaughter, that Philip came upon the first stopping place of the +sledge. The wolves had not broken their traveling rank, and for +this reason he guessed that Bram had paused only long enough to +put on his snowshoes. After this Philip could measure quite +accurately the speed of the outlaw and his pack. Bram's snow-shoe +strides were from twelve to sixteen inches longer than his own, +and there was little doubt that Bram was traveling six miles to +his four. + +It was one o'clock when Philip stopped to eat his dinner. He +figured that he was fifteen miles from the timber-line. As he ate +there pressed upon him more and more persistently the feeling that +he had entered upon an adventure which was leading toward +inevitable disaster for him. For the first time the significance +of Bram's supply of meat, secured by the outlaw at the last moment +before starting out into the Barren, appeared to him with a +clearness that filled him with uneasiness. It meant that Bram +required three or four days' rations for himself and his pack in +crossing this sea of desolation that reached in places to the +Arctic. In that time, if necessity was driving him, he could cover +a hundred and fifty miles, while Philip could make less than a +hundred. + +Until three o'clock in the afternoon he followed steadily over +Bram's trail. He would have pursued for another hour if a huge and +dome-shaped snowdrift had not risen in his path. In the big drift +he decided to make his house for the night. It was an easy matter +--a trick learned of the Eskimo. With his belt-ax he broke through +the thick crust of the drift, using care that the "door" he thus +opened into it was only large enough for the entrance of his body. +Using a snowshoe as a shovel he then began digging out the soft +interior of the drift, burrowing a two foot tunnel until he was +well back from the door, where he made himself a chamber large +enough for his sleeping-bag. The task employed him less than an +hour, and when his bed was made, and he stood in front of the door +to his igloo, his spirits began to return. The assurance that he +had a home at his back in which neither cold nor storm could reach +him inspirited him with an optimism which he had not felt at any +time during the day. + +From the timber he had borne a precious bundle of finely split +kindlings of pitch-filled spruce, and with a handful of these he +built himself a tiny fire over which, on a longer stick brought +for the purpose, he suspended his tea pail, packed with snow. The +crackling of the flames set him whistling. Darkness was falling +swiftly about him. By the time his tea was ready and he had warmed +his cold bannock and bacon the gloom was like a black curtain that +he might have slit with a knife. Not a star was visible in the +sky. Twenty feet on either side of him he could not see the +surface of the snow. Now and then he added a bit of his kindling +to the dying embers, and in the glow of the last stick he smoked +his pipe, and as he smoked he drew from his wallet the golden +snare. Coiled in the hollow of his hand and catching the red light +of the pitch-laden fagot it shone with the rich luster of rare +metal. Not until the pitch was burning itself out in a final +sputter of flame did Philip replace it in the wallet. + +With the going of the fire an utter and chaotic blackness shut him +in. Feeling his way he crawled through the door of his tunnel, +over the inside of which he had fastened as a flap his silk +service tent. Then he stretched himself out in his sleeping-bag. +It was surprisingly comfortable. Since he had left Breault's cabin +he had not enjoyed such a bed. And last night he had not slept at +all. He fell into deep sleep. The hours and the night passed over +him. He did not hear the wailing of the wind that came with the +dawn. When day followed dawn there were other sounds which he did +not hear. His inner consciousness, the guardian of his sleep, +cried for him to arouse himself. It pounded like a little hand in +his brain, and at last he began to move restlessly, and twist in +his sleeping-bag. His eyes shot open suddenly. The light of day +filled his tunnel. He looked toward the "door" which he had +covered with his tent. + +The tent was gone. + +In its place was framed a huge shaggy head, and Philip found +himself staring straight into the eyes of Bram Johnson. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + + + +Philip was not unaccustomed to the occasional mental and physical +shock which is an inevitable accompaniment of the business of Law +in the northland. But never had he felt quite the same stir in his +blood as now--when he found himself looking down the short tunnel +into the face of the man he was hunting. + +There come now and then moments in which a curious understanding +is impinged upon one without loss of time in reason and surmise-- +and this was one of those moments for Philip. His first thought as +he saw the great wild face in the door of his tunnel was that Bram +had been looking at him for some time--while he was asleep; and +that if the desire to kill had been in the outlaw's breast he +might have achieved his purpose with very little trouble. Equally +swift was his observance of the fact that the tent with which he +had covered the aperture was gone, and that his rifle, with the +weight of which he had held the tent in place, had disappeared. +Bram had secured possession of them before he had roused himself. + +It was not the loss of these things, or entirely Bram's sudden and +unexpected appearance, that sent through him the odd thrill, which +he experienced. It was Bram's face, his eyes, the tense and +mysterious earnestness that was in his gaze. It was not the +watchfulness of a victor looking at his victim. In it there was no +sign of hatred or of exultation. There was not even unfriendliness +there. Rather it was the study of one filled with doubt and +uneasiness, and confronted by a question which he could not +answer. There was not a line of the face which Philip could not +see now--its high cheek-bones, its wide cheeks, the low forehead, +the flat nose, the thick lips. Only the eyes kept it from being a +terrible face. Straight down through the generations Bram must +have inherited those eyes from some woman of the past. They were +strange things in that wild and hunted creature's face--gray eyes, +large, beautiful. With the face taken away they would have been +wonderful. + +For a full minute not a sound passed between the two men. Philip's +hand had slipped to the butt of his revolver, but he had no +intention of using it. Then he found his voice. It seemed the most +natural thing in the world that he should say what he did. + +"Hello, Bram!" + +"Boo-joo, m'sieu!" + +Only Bram's thick lips moved. His voice was low and guttural. +Almost instantly his head disappeared from the opening. + +Philip dug himself quickly from his sleeping-bag. Through the +aperture there came to him now another sound, the yearning whine +of beasts. He could not hear Bram. In spite of the confidence +which his first look at Bram had given him he felt a sudden shiver +run up his spine as he faced the end of the tunnel on his hands +and knees, his revolver in his hand. What a rat in a trap he would +be if Bram loosed his wolves! What sport for the pack--and perhaps +for the master himself! He could kill two or three--and that would +be all. They would be in on him like a whirlwind, diving through +his snow walls as easily as a swimmer might cut through water. Had +he twice made a fool of himself? Should he have winged Bram +Johnson, three times a murderer, in place of offering him a +greeting? + +He began crawling toward the opening, and again he heard the snarl +and whine of the beasts. The sound seemed some distance away. He +reached the end of the tunnel and peered out through the "door" he +had made in the crust. + +From his position he could see nothing--nothing but the endless +sweep of the Barren and his old trail leading up to the snow dune. +The muzzle of his revolver was at the aperture when he heard +Bram's voice. + +"M'sieu--ze revolv'--ze knife--or I mus' keel yon. Ze wolve plent' +hungr'--" + +Bram was standing just outside of his line of vision. He had not +spoken loudly or threateningly, but Philip felt in the words a +cold and unexcited deadliness of purpose against which he knew +that it would be madness for him to fight. Bram had more than the +bad man's ordinary drop on him. In his wolves he possessed not +only an advantage but a certainty. If Philip had doubted this, as +he waited for another moment with the muzzle of his revolver close +to the opening, his uncertainty was swept away by the appearance +thirty feet in front of his tunnel of three of Bram's wolves. They +were giants of their kind, and as the three faced his refuge he +could see the snarling gleam of their long fangs. A fourth and a +fifth joined them, and after that they came within his vision in +twos and threes until a score of them were huddled straight in +front of him. They were restless and whining, and the snap of +their jaws was like the clicking of castanets. He caught the glare +of twenty pairs of eyes fastened on his retreat and involuntarily +he shrank back that they might not see him. He knew that it was +Bram who was holding them back, and yet he had heard no word, no +command. Even as he stared a long snakelike shadow uncurled itself +swiftly in the air and the twenty foot lash of Bram's caribou-gut +whip cracked viciously over the heads of the pack. At the warning +of the whip the horde of beasts scattered, and Bram's voice came +again. + +"M'sieu--ze revolv'--ze knife--or I loose ze wolve--" + +The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Philip's revolver +flew through the opening and dropped in the snow. + +"There it is, old man," announced Philip. "And here comes the +knife." + +His sheath-knife followed the revolver. + +"Shall I throw out my bed?" he asked. + +He was making a tremendous effort to appear cheerful. But he could +not forget that last night he had shot at Bram, and that it was +not at all unreasonable to suppose that Bram might knock his +brains out when he stuck his head out of the hole. The fact that +Bram made no answer to his question about the bed did not add to +his assurance. He repeated the question, louder than before, and +still there was no answer. In the face of his perplexity he could +not repress a grim chuckle as he rolled up his blankets. What a +report he would have for the Department--if he lived to make it! +On paper there would be a good deal of comedy about it--this +burrowing oneself up like a hibernating woodchuck, and then being +invited out to breakfast by a man with a club and a pack of brutes +with fangs that had gleamed at him like ivory stilettos. He had +guessed at the club, and a moment later as he thrust his sleeping- +bag out through the opening he saw that it was quite obviously a +correct one. Bram was possessing himself of the revolver and the +knife. In the same hand he held his whip and a club. + +Seizing the opportunity, Philip followed his bed quickly, and when +Bram faced him he was standing on his feet outside the drift. + +"Morning, Bram!" + +His greeting was drowned in a chorus of fierce snarls that made +his blood curdle even as he tried to hide from Bram any visible +betrayal of the fact that every nerve up and down his spine was +pricking him. like a pin. From Bram's throat there shot forth at +the pack a sudden sharp clack of Eskimo, and with it the long whip +snapped in their faces again. + +Then he looked steadily at his prisoner. For the first time Philip +saw the look which he dreaded darkening his face. A greenish fire +burned in the strange eyes. The thick lips were set tightly, the +flat nose seemed flatter, and with a shiver Philip noticed Bram's +huge, naked hand gripping his club until the cords stood out like +babiche thongs under the skin. In that moment he was ready to +kill. A wrong word, a wrong act, and Philip knew that the end was +inevitable. + +In the same thick guttural voice which he used in his half-breed +patois he demanded, + +"Why you shoot--las' night!" + +"Because I wanted to talk with you, Bram," replied Philip calmly. +"I didn't shoot to hit you. I fired over your head." + +"You want--talk," said Bram, speaking as if each word cost him a +certain amount of effort. "Why--talk?" + +"I wanted to ask you why it was that you killed a man down in the +God's Lake country." + +The words were out before Philip could stop them. A growl rose in +Bram's chest. It was like the growl of a beast. The greenish fire +in his eyes grew brighter. + +"Ze poleece," he said. "KA, ze poleece--like kam from Churchill +an' ze wolve keel!" + +Philip's hand was fumbling in his pocket. The wolves were behind +him and he dared not turn to look. It was their ominous silence +that filled him with dread. They were waiting--watching--their +animal instinct telling them that the command for which they +yearned was already trembling on the thick lips of their master. +The revolver and the knife dropped from Bram's hand. He held only +the whip and the club. + +Philip drew forth the wallet. + +"You lost something--when you camped that night near Pierre +Breault's cabin," he said, and his own voice seemed strange and +thick to him. "I've followed you--to give it back. I could have +killed you if I had wanted to--when I fired over your head. But I +wanted to stop you. I wanted to give you--this." + +He held out to Bram the golden snare. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + + + +It must have been fully half a minute that Bram stood like a +living creature turned suddenly into dead stone. His eyes had left +Philip's face and were fixed on the woven tress of shining hair. +For the first time his thick lips had fallen agape. He did not +seem to breathe. At the end of the thirty seconds his hand +unclenched from about the whip and the club and they fell into the +snow. Slowly, his eyes still fixed on the snare as if it held for +him an overpowering fascination, he advanced a step, and then +another, until he reached out and took from Philip the thing which +he held. He uttered no word. But from his eyes there disappeared +the greenish fire. The lines in his heavy face softened and his +thick lips lost some of their cruelty as he held up the snare +before his eyes so that the light played on its sheen of gold. It +was then that Philip saw that which must have meant a smile in +Bram's face. + +Still this strange man made no spoken sound as he coiled the +silken thread around one of his great fingers and then placed it +somewhere inside his coat. He seemed, all at once, utterly +oblivious of Philip's presence. He picked up the revolver, gazed +heavily at it for a moment, and with a grunt which must have +reflected his mental decision hurled it far out over the plain. +Instantly the wolves were after it in a mad rush. The knife +followed the revolver; and after that, as coolly as though +breaking firewood, the giant went to Philip's rifle, braced it +across his knee, and with a single effort snapped the stock off +close to the barrel. + +"The devil!" growled Philip. + +He felt a surge of anger rise in him, and for an instant the +inclination to fling himself at Bram in the defense of his +property. If he had been helpless a few minutes before, he was +utterly so now. In the same breath it flashed upon him that Bram's +activity in the destruction of his weapons meant that his life was +spared, at least for the present. Otherwise Bram would not be +taking these precautions. + +The futility of speech kept his own lips closed. At last Bram +looked at him, and pointed to his snowshoes where he had placed +them last night against the snow dune. His invitation for Philip +to prepare himself for travel was accompanied by nothing more than +a grunt. + +The wolves were returning, sneaking in watchfully and alert. Bram +greeted them with the snap of his whip, and when Philip was ready +motioned him to lead the way into the north. Half a dozen paces +behind Philip followed Bram, and twice that distance behind the +outlaw came the pack. Now that his senses were readjusting +themselves and his pulse beating more evenly Philip began to take +stock of the situation. It was, first of all, quite evident that +Bram had not accepted him as a traveling companion, but as a +prisoner; and he was equally convinced that the golden snare had +at the last moment served in some mysterious way to save his life. + +It was not long before he saw how Bram had out-generaled him. Two +miles beyond the big drift they came upon the outlaw's huge +sledge, from which Bram and his wolves had made a wide circle in +order to stalk him from behind. The fact puzzled him. Evidently +Bram had expected his unknown enemy to pursue him, and had +employed his strategy accordingly. Why, then, had he not attacked +him the night of the caribou kill? + +He watched Bram as he got the pack into harness. The wolves obeyed +him like dogs. He could perceive among them a strange comradeship, +even an affection, for the man-monster who was their master. Bram +spoke to them entirely in Eskimo--and the sound of it was like the +rapid CLACK--CLACK--CLACK of dry bones striking together. It was +weirdly different from the thick and guttural tones Bram used in +speaking Chippewyan and the half-breed patois. + +Again Philip made an effort to induce Bram to break his oppressive +silence. With a suggestive gesture and a hunch of his shoulders he +nodded toward the pack, just as they were about to start. + +"If you thought I tried to kill you night before last why didn't +you set your wolves after me, Bram--as you did those other two +over on the Barren north of Kasba Lake? Why did you wait until +this morning? And where--WHERE in God's name are we going?" + +Bram stretched out an arm. + +"There!" + +It was the one question he answered, and he pointed straight as +the needle of a compass into the north. And then, as if his crude +sense of humor had been touched by the other thing Philip had +asked, he burst into a laugh. It made one shudder to see laughter +in a face like Bram's. It transformed his countenance from mere +ugliness into one of the leering gargoyles carven under the +cornices of ancient buildings. It was this laugh, heard almost at +Bram's elbow, that made Philip suddenly grip hard at a new +understanding--the laugh and the look in Bram's eyes. It set him +throbbing, and filled him all at once with the desire to seize his +companion by his great shoulders and shake speech from his thick +lips. In that moment, even before the laughter had gone from +Bram's face, he thought again of Pelletier. Pelletier must have +been like this--in those terrible days when he scribbled the +random thoughts of a half-mad man on his cabin door. + +Bram was not yet mad. And yet he was fighting the thing that had +killed Pelletier. Loneliness. The fate forced upon him by the law +because he had killed a man. + +His face was again heavy and unemotional when with a gesture he +made Philip understand that he was to ride on the sledge. Bram +himself went to the head of the pack. At the sharp clack of his +Eskimo the wolves strained in their traces. Another moment and +they were off, with Bram in the lead. + +Philip was amazed at the pace set by the master of the pack. With +head and shoulders hunched low he set off in huge swinging strides +that kept the team on a steady trot behind him. They must have +traveled eight miles an hour. For a few minutes Philip could not +keep his eyes from Bram and the gray backs of the wolves. They +fascinated him, and at the same time the sight of them--straining +on ahead of him into a voiceless and empty world--filled him with +a strange and overwhelming compassion. He saw in them the +brotherhood of man and beast. It was splendid. It was epic. And to +this the Law had driven them! + +His eyes began to take in the sledge then. On it was a roll of +bear skins--Bram's blankets. One was the skin of a polar bear. +Near these skins were the haunches of caribou meat, and so close +to him that he might have reached out and touched it was Bram's +club. At the side of the club lay a rifle. It was of the old +breech-loading, single-shot type, and Philip wondered why Bram had +destroyed his own modern weapon instead of keeping it in place of +this ancient Company relic. It also made him think of night before +last, when he had chosen for his refuge a tree out in the +starlight. + +The club, even more than the rifle, bore marks of use. It was of +birch, and three feet in length. Where Bram's hand gripped it the +wood was worn as smooth and dark as mahogany. In many places the +striking end of the club was dented as though it had suffered the +impact of tremendous blows, and it was discolored by suggestive +stains. There was no sign of cooking utensils and no evidence of +any other food but the caribou flesh. On the rear of the sledge +was a huge bundle of pitch-soaked spruce tied with babiche, and +out of this stuck the crude handle of an ax. + +Of these things the gun and the white bear skin impressed Philip +most. He had only to lean forward a little to reach the rifle, and +the thought that he could scarcely miss the broad back of the man +ahead of him struck him all at once with a sort of mental shock. +Bram had evidently forgotten the weapon, or was utterly confident +in the protection of the pack. Or--had he faith in his prisoner? +It was this last question that Philip would liked to have answered +in the affirmative. He had no desire to harm Bram. He had even a +less desire to escape him. He had forgotten, so far as his +personal intentions were concerned, that he was an agent of the +Law--under oath to bring in to Divisional Headquarters Bram's body +dead or alive. Since night before last Bram had ceased to be a +criminal for him. He was like Pelletier, and through him he was +entering upon a strange adventure which held for him already the +thrill and suspense of an anticipation which he had never +experienced in the game of man-hunting. + +Had the golden snare been taken from the equation--had he not felt +the thrill of it in his fingers and looked upon the warm fires of +it as it lay unbound on Pierre Breault's table, his present +relation with Bram Johnson he would have considered as a purely +physical condition, and he might then have accepted the presence +of the rifle there within his reach as a direct invitation from +Providence. + +As it was, he knew that the master of the wolves was speeding +swiftly to the source of the golden snare. From the moment he had +seen the strange transformation it had worked in Bram that belief +within him had become positive. And now, as his eyes turned from +the inspection of the sledge to Bram and his wolves, he wondered +where the trail was taking him. Was it possible that Bram was +striking straight north for Coronation Gulf and the Eskimo? He had +noted that the polar bear skin was only slightly worn--that it had +not long been taken from the back of the animal that had worn it. +He recalled what he could remember of his geography. Their course, +if continued in the direction Bram was now heading, would take +them east of the Great Slave and the Great Bear, and they would +hit the Arctic somewhere between Melville Sound and the Coppermine +River. It was a good five hundred miles to the Eskimo settlements +there. Bram and his wolves could make it in ten days, possibly in +eight. + +If his guess was correct, and Coronation Gulf was Bram's goal, he +had found at least one possible explanation for the tress of +golden hair. + +The girl or woman to whom it had belonged had come into the north +aboard a whaling ship. Probably she was the daughter or the wife +of the master. The ship had been lost in the ice--she had been +saved by the Eskimo--and she was among them now, with other white +men. Philip pictured it all vividly. It was unpleasant--horrible. +The theory of other white men being with her he was conscious of +forcing upon himself to offset the more reasonable supposition +that, as in the case of the golden snare, she belonged to Bram. He +tried to free himself of that thought, but it clung to him with a +tenaciousness that oppressed him with a grim and ugly foreboding. +What a monstrous fate for a woman! He shivered. For a few moments +every instinct in his body fought to assure him that such a thing +could not happen. And yet he knew that it COULD happen. A woman up +there--with Bram! A woman with hair like spun gold--and that giant +half-mad enormity of a man! + +He clenched his hands at the picture his excited brain was +painting for him. He wanted to jump from the sledge, overtake +Bram, and demand the truth from him. He was calm enough to realize +the absurdity of such action. Upon his own strategy depended now +whatever answer he might make to the message chance had sent to +him through the golden snare. + +For an hour he marked Bram's course by his compass. It was +straight north. Then Bram changed the manner of his progress by +riding in a standing position behind Philip. With his long whip he +urged on the pack until they were galloping over the frozen level +of the plain at a speed that must have exceeded ten miles an hour. +A dozen times Philip made efforts at conversation. Not a word did +he get from Bram in reply. Again and again the outlaw shouted to +his wolves in Eskimo; he cracked his whip, he flung his great arms +over his head, and twice there rolled out of his chest deep peals +of strange laughter. They had been traveling more than two hours +when he gave voice to a sudden command that stopped the pack, and +at a second command--a staccato of shrill Eskimo accompanied by +the lash of his whip--the panting wolves sank upon their bellies +in the snow. + +Philip jumped from the sledge, and Bram went immediately to the +gun. He did not touch it, but dropped on his knees and examined it +closely. Then he rose to his feet and looked at Philip, and there +was no sign of madness in his heavy face as he said, + +"You no touch ze gun, m'sieu. Why you no shoot when I am there--at +head of pack?" + +The calmness and directness with which Bram put the question after +his long and unaccountable silence surprised Philip. + +"For the same reason you didn't kill me when I was asleep, I +guess," he said. Suddenly he reached out and caught Bram's arm. +"Why the devil don't you come across!" he demanded. "Why don't you +talk? I'm not after you--now. The Police think you are dead, and I +don't believe I'd tip them off even if I had a chance. Why not be +human? Where are we going? And what in thunder--" + +He did not finish. To his amazement Bram flung back his head, +opened his great mouth, and laughed. It was not a taunting laugh. +There was no humor in it. The thing seemed beyond the control of +even Bram himself, and Philip stood like one paralyzed as his +companion turned quickly to the sledge and returned in a moment +with the gun. Under Philip's eyes he opened the breech. The +chamber was empty. Bram had placed in his way a temptation--to +test him! + +There was saneness in that stratagem--and yet as Philip looked at +the man now his last doubt was gone. Bram Johnson was hovering on +the borderland of madness. + +Replacing the gun on the sledge, Bram began hacking off chunks of +the caribou flesh with a big knife. Evidently he had decided that +it was time for himself and his pack to breakfast. To each of the +wolves he gave a portion, after which he seated himself on the +sledge and began devouring a slice of the raw meat. He had left +the blade of his knife buried in the carcass--an invitation for +Philip to help himself. Philip seated himself near Bram and opened +his pack. Purposely he began placing his food between them, so +that the other might help himself if he so desired. Bram's jaws +ceased their crunching. For a moment Philip did not look up. When +he did he was startled. Bram's eyes were blazing with a red fire. +He was staring at the cooked food. Never had Philip seen such a +look in a human face before. + +He reached out and seized a chunk of bannock, and was about to +bite into it when with the snarl of a wild beast Bram dropped his +meat and was at him. Before Philip could raise an arm in defense +his enemy had him by the throat. Back over the sledge they went. +Philip scarcely knew how it happened--but in another moment the +giant had hurled him clean over his head and he struck the frozen +plain with a shock that stunned him. When he staggered to his +feet, expecting a final assault that would end him, Bram was +kneeling beside his pack. A mumbling and incoherent jargon of +sound issued from his thick lips as he took stock of Philip's +supplies. Of Philip himself he seemed now utterly oblivious. Still +mumbling, he dragged the pile of bear skins from the sledge, +unrolled them, and revealed a worn and tattered dunnage bag. At +first Philip thought this bag was empty. Then Bram drew from it a +few small packages, some of them done up in paper and others in +bark. Only one of these did Philip recognize--a half pound package +of tea such as the Hudson's Bay Company offers in barter at its +stores. Into the dunnage bag Bram now put Philip's supplies, even +to the last crumb of bannock, and then returned the articles he +had taken out, after which he rolled the bag up in the bear skins +and replaced the skins on the sledge. + +After that, still mumbling, and still paying no attention to +Philip, he reseated himself on the edge of the sledge and finished +his breakfast of raw meat. + +"The poor devil!" mumbled Philip. + +The words were out of his mouth before he realized that he had +spoken them. He was still a little dazed by the shock of Bram's +assault, but it was impossible for him to bear malice or thought +of vengeance. In Bram's face, as he had covetously piled up the +different articles of food, he had seen the terrible glare of +starvation--and yet he had not eaten a mouthful. He had stored the +food away, and Philip knew it was as much as his life was worth to +contend its ownership. + +Again Bram seemed to be unconscious of his presence, but when +Philip went to the meat and began carving himself off a slice the +wolf-man's eyes shot in his direction just once. Purposely he +stood in front of Bram as he ate the raw steak, feigning a greater +relish than he actually enjoyed in consuming his uncooked meal. +Bram did not wait for him to finish. No sooner had he swallowed +the last of his own breakfast than he was on his feet giving sharp +commands to the pack. Instantly the wolves were alert in their +traces. Philip took his former position on the sledge, with Bram +behind him. + +Never in all the years afterward did he forget that day. As the +hours passed it seemed to him that neither man nor beast could +very long stand the strain endured by Bram and his wolves. At +times Bram rode on the sledge for short distances, but for the +most part he was running behind, or at the head of the pack. For +the pack there was no rest. Hour after hour it surged steadily +onward over the endless plain, and whenever the wolves sagged for +a moment in their traces Brain's whip snapped over their gray +backs and his voice rang out in fierce exhortation. So hard was +the frozen crust of the Barren that snowshoes were no longer +necessary, and half a dozen times Philip left the sledge and ran +with the wolf-man and his pack until he was winded. Twice he ran +shoulder to shoulder with Bram. + +It was in the middle of the afternoon that his compass told him +they were no longer traveling north--but almost due west. Every +quarter of an hour after that he looked at his compass. And always +the course was west. + +He was convinced that some unusual excitement was urging Bram on, +and he was equally certain this excitement had taken possession of +him from the moment he had found the food in his pack. Again and +again he heard the strange giant mumbling incoherently to himself, +but not once did Bram utter a word that he could understand. + +The gray world about them was darkening when at last they stopped. + +And now, strangely as before, Bram seemed for a few moments to +turn into a sane man. + +He pointed to the bundle of fuel, and as casually as though he had +been conversing with him all the day he said to Philip: + +"A fire, m'sieu." + +The wolves had dropped in their traces, their great shaggy heads +stretched out between their paws in utter exhaustion, and Bram +went slowly down the line speaking to each one in turn. After that +he fell again into his stolid silence. From the bear skins he +produced a kettle, filled it with snow, and hung it over the pile +of fagots to which Philip was touching a match. Philip's tea pail +he employed in the same way. + +"How far have we come, Bram?" Philip asked. + +"Fift' mile, m'sieu," answered Bram without hesitation. + +"And how much farther have we to go?" + +Bram grunted. His face became more stolid. In his hand he was +holding the big knife with which he cut the caribou meat. He was +staring at it. From the knife he looked at Philip. + +"I keel ze man at God's Lake because he steal ze knife--an' call +me lie. I keel heem--lak that!"--and he snatched up a stick and +broke it into two pieces. + +His weird laugh followed the words. He went to the meat and began +carving off chunks for the pack, and for a long time after that +one would have thought that he was dumb. Philip made greater +effort than ever to rouse him into speech. He laughed, and +whistled, and once tried the experiment of singing a snatch of the +Caribou Song which he knew that Bram must have heard many times +before. As he roasted his steak over the fire he talked about the +Barren, and the great herd of caribou he had seen farther east; he +asked Bram questions about the weather, the wolves, and the +country farther north and west. More than once he was certain that +Bram was listening intently, but nothing more than an occasional +grunt was his response. + +For an hour after they had finished their supper they continued to +melt snow for drinking water for themselves and the wolves. Night +shut them in, and in the glow of the fire Bram scooped a hollow in +the snow for a bed, and tilted the big sledge over it as a roof. +Philip made himself as comfortable as he could with his sleeping +bag, using his tent as an additional protection. The fire went +out. Bram's heavy breathing told Philip that the wolf-man was soon +asleep. It was a long time before he felt a drowsiness creeping +over himself. + +Later he was awakened by a heavy grasp on his arm, and roused +himself to hear Bram's voice close over him. + +"Get up, m'sieu." + +It was so dark he could not see Bram when he got on his feet, but +he could hear him a moment later among the wolves, and knew that +he was making ready to travel. When his sleeping-bag and tent were +on the sledge he struck a match and looked at his watch. It was +less than a quarter of an hour after midnight. + +For two hours Bram led his pack straight into the west. The night +cleared after that, and as the stars grew brighter and more +numerous in the sky the plain was lighted up on all sides of them, +as on the night when Philip had first seen Bram. By lighting an +occasional match Philip continued to keep a record of direction +and time. It was three o'clock, and they were still traveling +west, when to his surprise they struck a small patch of timber. +The clump of stunted and wind-snarled spruce covered no more than +half an acre, but it was conclusive evidence they were again +approaching a timber-line. + +From the patch of spruce Bram struck due north, and for another +hour their trail was over the white Barren. Soon after this they +came to a fringe of scattered timber which grew steadily heavier +and deeper as they entered into it. They must have penetrated +eight or ten miles into the forest before the dawn came. And in +that dawn, gray and gloomy, they came suddenly upon a cabin. + +Philip's heart gave a jump. Here, at last, would the mystery of +the golden snare be solved. This was his first thought. But as +they drew nearer, and stopped at the threshold of the door, he +felt sweep over him an utter disappointment. There was no life +here. No smoke came from the chimney and the door was almost +buried in a huge drift of snow. His thoughts were cut short by the +crack of Bram's whip. The wolves swept onward and Bram's insane +laugh sent a weird and shuddering echo through the forest. + +From the time they left behind them the lifeless and snow- +smothered cabin Philip lost account of time and direction. He +believed that Bram was nearing the end of his trail. The wolves +were dead tired. The wolf-man himself was lagging, and since +midnight had ridden more frequently on the sledge. Still he drove +on, and Philip searched with increasing eagerness the trail ahead +of them. + +It was eight o'clock--two hours after they had passed the cabin-- +when they came to the edge of a clearing in the center of which +was a second cabin. Here at a glance Philip saw there was life. A +thin spiral of smoke was rising from the chimney. He could see +only the roof of the log structure, for it was entirely shut in by +a circular stockade of saplings six feet high. + +Twenty paces from where Bram stopped his team was the gate of the +stockade. Bram went to it, thrust his arm through a hole even with +his shoulders, and a moment later the gate swung inward. For +perhaps a space of twenty seconds he looked steadily at Philip, +and for the first time Philip observed the remarkable change that +had come into his face. It was no longer a face of almost brutish +impassiveness. There was a strange glow in his eyes. His thick +lips were parted as if on the point of speech, and he was +breathing with a quickness which did not come of physical +exertion. Philip did not move or speak. Behind him he heard the +restless whine of the wolves. He kept his eyes on Bram, and as he +saw the look of joy and anticipation deepening in the wolf-man's +face the appalling thought of what it meant sickened him. He +clenched his hands. Bram did not see the act. He was looking again +toward the cabin and at the spiral of smoke rising out of the +chimney. + +Then he faced Philip, and said, + +"M'sieu, you go to ze cabin." + +He held the gate open, and Philip entered. He paused to make +certain of Bram's intention. The wolf-man swept an arm about the +enclosure. + +"In ze pit I loose ze wolve, m'sieu." + +Philip understood. The stockade enclosure was Bram's wolf-pit, and +Bram meant that he should reach the cabin before he gave the pack +the freedom of the corral. He tried to conceal the excitement in +his face as he turned toward the cabin. From the gate to the door +ran a path worn by many footprints, and his heart beat faster as +he noted the smallness of the moccasin tracks. Even then his mind +fought against the possibility of the thing. Probably it was an +Indian woman who lived with Bram, or an Eskimo girl he had brought +down from the north. + +He made no sound as he approached the door. He did not knock, but +opened it and entered, as Bram had invited him to do. + +From the gate Bram watched the cabin door as it closed behind him, +and then he threw back his head and such a laugh of triumph came +from his lips that even the tired beasts behind him pricked up +their ears and listened. + +And Philip, in that same moment, had solved the mystery of the +golden snare. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + + + +Philip had entered Bram Johnson's cabin from the west. Out of the +east the pale fire of the winter sun seemed to concentrate itself +on the one window of Bram's habitation, and flooded the opposite +partition. In this partition there was a doorway, and in the +doorway stood a girl. + +She was standing full in the light that came through the window +when Philip saw her. His first impression was that she was clouded +in the same wonderful hair that had gone into the making of the +golden snare. It billowed over her arms and breast to her hips, +aflame with the living fires of the reflected sun. His second +impression was that his entrance had interrupted her while she was +dressing and that she was benumbed with astonishment as she stared +at him. He caught the white gleam of her bare shoulders under her +hair. And then, with a shock, he saw what was in her face. + +It turned his blood cold. It was the look of a soul that had been +tortured. Agony and doubt burned in the eyes that were looking at +him. He had never seen such eyes. They were like violet amethysts. +Her face was dead white. It was beautiful. And she was young. She +was not over twenty, it flashed upon him--but she had gone through +a hell. + +"Don't let me alarm you," he said, speaking gently. "I am Philip +Raine of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police." + +It did not surprise him that she made no answer. As plainly as if +she had spoken it he had in those few swift moments read the story +in her face. His heart choked him as he waited for her lips to +move. It was a mystery to him afterward why he accepted the +situation so utterly as he stood there. He had no question to ask, +and there was no doubt in his mind. He knew that he would kill +Bram Johnson when the moment arrived. + +The girl had not seemed to breathe, but now she drew in her breath +in a great gasp. He could see the sudden throb of her breast under +her hair, but the frightened light did not leave her eyes even +when he repeated the words he had spoken. Suddenly she ran to the +window, and Philip saw the grip of her hands at the sill as she +looked out. Through the gate Bram was driving his wolves. When she +faced him again, her eyes had in them the look of a creature +threatened by a whip. It amazed and startled him. As he advanced a +step she cringed back from him. It struck him then that her face +was like the face of an angel--filled with a mad horror. She +reached out her bare arms to hold him back, and a strange pleading +cry came from her lips. + +The cry stopped him like a shot. He knew that she had spoken to +him. And yet he had not understood! He tore open his coat and the +sunlight fell on his bronze insignia of the Service. Its effect on +her amazed him even more than had her sudden fear of him. It +occurred to him suddenly that with a two weeks' ragged growth of +beard on his face he must look something like a beast himself. She +had feared him, as she feared Bram, until she saw the badge. + +"I am Philip Raine, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police," he +repeated again. "I have come up here especially to help you, if +you need help. I could have got Bram farther back, but there was a +reason why I didn't want him until I found his cabin. That reason +was you. Why are you here with a madman and a murderer?" + +She was watching him intently. Her eyes were on his lips, and into +her face--white a few moments before--had risen swiftly a flush of +color. He saw the dread die out of her eyes in a new and dazzling +excitement. Outside they could hear Bram. The girl turned again +and looked through the window. Then she began talking, swiftly and +eagerly, in a language that was as strange to Philip as the +mystery of her presence in Bram Johnson's cabin. She knew that he +could not understand, and suddenly she came up close to him and +put a finger to his lips, and then to her own, and shook her head. +He could fairly feel the throb of her excitement. The astounding +truth held him dumb. She was trying to make him comprehend +something--in a language which he had never heard before in all +his life. He stared at her--like an idiot he told himself +afterward. + +And then the shuffle of Bram's heavy feet sounded just outside the +door. Instantly the old light leapt into the girl's eyes. Before +the door could open she had darted into the room from which she +had first appeared, her hair floating about her in a golden cloud +as she ran. + +The door opened, and Bram entered. At his heels, beyond the +threshold, Philip caught a glimpse of the pack glaring hungrily +into the cabin. Bram was burdened under the load he had brought +from the sledge. He dropped it to the floor, and without looking +at Philip his eyes fastened themselves on the door to the inner +room. + +They stood there for a full minute, Bram as if hypnotized by the +door, and Philip with his eyes on Bram. Neither moved, and neither +made a sound. A curtain had dropped over the entrance to the inner +room, and beyond that they could hear the girl moving about. A +dozen emotions were fighting in Philip. If he had possessed a +weapon he would have ended the matter with Bram then, for the +light that was burning like a strange flame in the wolf-man's eyes +convinced him that he had guessed the truth. Bare-handed he was no +match for the giant madman. For the first time he let his glance +travel cautiously about the room. Near the stove was a pile of +firewood. A stick of this would do--when the opportunity came. + +And then, in a way that made him almost cry out, every nerve in +his body was startled. The girl appeared in the doorway, a smile +on her lips and her eyes shining radiantly--straight at Bram! She +partly held out her arms, and began talking. She seemed utterly +oblivious of Philip's presence. Not a word that she uttered could +he understand. It was not Cree or Chippewyan or Eskimo. It was not +French or German or any tongue that he had ever heard. Her voice +was pure and soft. It trembled a little, and she was breathing +quickly. But the look in her face that had at first horrified him +was no longer there. She had braided her hair and had coiled the +shining strands on the crown of her head, and the coloring in her +face was like that of a rare painting. In these astounding moments +he knew that such color and such hair did not go with any race +that had ever bred in the northland. From her face, even as her +lips spoke, he looked at Bram. The wolf-man was transfigured. His +strange eyes were shining, his heavy face was filled with a dog- +like joy, and his thick lips moved as if he was repeating to +himself what the girl was saying. + +Was it possible that he understood her? Was the strange language +in which she was speaking common between them! At first Philip +thought that it must be so--and all the horrors of the situation +that he had built up for himself fell about him in confusing +disorder. The girl, as she stood there now, seemed glad that Bram +had returned; and with a heart choking him with its suspense he +waited for Bram to speak, and act. + +When the girl ceased speaking the wolf-man's response came in a +guttural cry that was like a paean of triumph. He dropped on his +knees beside the dunnage bag and mumbling thickly as he worked he +began emptying its contents upon the floor. + +Philip looked at the girl. She was looking at him now. Her hands +were clutched at her breast, and in her face and attitude there +was a wordless entreaty for him to understand. The truth came to +him like a flash. For some reason she had forced herself to appear +that way to the wolf-man. She had forced herself to smile, forced +the look of gladness into her face, and the words from her lips. +And now she was trying to tell him what it meant, and pointing to +Bram as he knelt with his huge head and shoulders bent over the +dunnage bag on the floor she exclaimed in a low, tense voice: + +"Tossi--tossi--han er tossi!" + +It was useless. He could not understand, and it was impossible for +him to hide the bewilderment in his face. All at once an +inspiration came to him. Bram's back was toward him, and he +pointed to the sticks of firewood. His pantomime was clear. Should +he knock the wolf-man's brains out as he knelt there? + +He could see that his question sent a thrill of alarm through her. +She shook her head. Her lips formed strange words, and looking +again at Bram she repeated, "Tossi--tossi--han er tossi!" She +clasped her hands suddenly to her head then. Her slim fingers +buried themselves in the thick braids of her hair. Her eyes +dilated--and suddenly understanding flashed upon him. She was +telling him what he already knew--that Bram Johnson was mad, and +he repeated after her the "Tossi-tossi," tapping his forehead +suggestively, and nodding at Bram. Yes, that was it. He could see +it in the quick intake of her breath and the sudden expression of +relief that swept over her face. She had been afraid he would +attack the wolf-man. And now she was glad that he understood he +was not to harm him. + +If the situation had seemed fairly clear to him a few minutes +before it had become more deeply mysterious than ever now. Even as +the wolf-man rose from his knees, still mumbling to himself in +incoherent exultation, the great and unanswerable question pounded +in Philip's brain: "Who was this girl, and what was she to Bram +Johnson--the crazed outlaw whom she feared and yet whom she did +not wish him to harm?" + +And then he saw her staring at the things which Bram had sorted +out on the floor. In her eyes was hunger. It was a living, +palpitant part of her now as she stared at the things which Bram +had taken from the dunnage bag--as surely as Bram's madness was a +part of him. As Philip watched her he knew that slowly the curtain +was rising on the tragedy of the golden snare. In a way the look +that he saw in her face shocked him more than anything that he had +seen in Bram's. It was as if, in fact, a curtain had lifted before +his eyes revealing to him an unbelievable truth, and something of +the hell through which she had gone. She was hungry--FOR SOMETHING +THAT WAS NOT FLESH! Swiftly the thought flashed upon him why the +wolf-man had traveled so far to the south, and why he had attacked +him for possession of his food supply. It was that he might bring +these things to the girl. He knew that it was sex-pride that +restrained the impulse that was pounding in every vein of her +body. She wanted to fling herself down on her knees beside that +pile of stuff--but she remembered HIM! Her eyes met his, and the +shame of her confession swept in a crimson flood into her face. +The feminine instinct told her that she had betrayed herself--like +an animal, and that he must have seen in her for a moment +something that was almost like Bram's own madness. + + + + + +CHAPTER X + + + + +Until he felt the warm thrill of the girl's arm under his hand +Philip did not realize the hazard he had taken. He turned suddenly +to confront Bram. He would not have known then that the wolf-man +was mad, and impulsively he reached out a hand. + +"Bram, she's starving," he cried. "I know now why you wanted that +stuff! But why didn't you tell me! Why don't you talk, and let me +know who she is, and why she is here, and what you want me to do?" + +He waited, and Bram stared at him without a sound. + +"I tell you I'm a friend," he went on. "I--" + +He got no farther than that, for suddenly the cabin was filled +with the madness of Bram's laugh. It was more terrible than out on +the open Barren, or in the forest, and he felt the shudder of the +girl at his side. Her face was close to his shoulder, and looking +down he saw that it was white as death, but that even then she was +trying to smile at Bram. And Bram continued to laugh--and as he +laughed, his eyes blazing a greenish fire, he turned to the stove +and began putting fuel into the fire. It was horrible. Bram's +laugh--the girl's dead white face, AND HER SMILE! He no longer +asked himself who she was, and why she was there. He was +overwhelmed by the one appalling fact that she WAS here, and that +the stricken soul crying out to him from the depths of those eyes +that were like wonderful blue amethysts told him that Bram had +made her pay the price. His muscles hardened as he looked at the +huge form bending over the stove. It was a splendid opportunity. A +single leap and he would be at the outlaw's throat. With that +advantage, in open combat, the struggle would at least be equal. + +The girl must have guessed what was in his mind, for suddenly her +fingers were clutching at his arm and she was pulling him away +from the wolf-man, speaking to him in the language which he could +not understand. And then Bram turned from the stove, picked up a +pail, and without looking at them left the cabin. They could hear +his laugh as he joined the wolves. + +Again Philip's conclusions toppled down about him like a thing +made of blocks. During the next few moments he knew that the girl +was telling him that Bram had not harmed her. She seemed almost +hysterically anxious to make him understand this, and at last, +seizing him by the hand, she drew him into the room beyond the +curtained door. Her meaning was quite as plain as words. She was +showing him what Bram had done for her. He had made her this +separate room by running a partition across the cabin, and in +addition to this he had built a small lean-to outside the main +wall entered through a narrow door made of saplings that were +still green. He noticed that the partition was also made of fresh +timber. Except for the bunk built against the wall, a crude chair, +a sapling table and half a dozen bear skins that carpeted the +floor the room was empty. A few garments hung on the wall--a hood +made of fur, a thick mackinaw coat belted at the waist with a red +scarf, and something done up in a small bundle. + +"I guess--I begin to get your meaning," he said, looking straight +into her shining blue eyes. "You want to impress on me that I'm +not to wring Bram Johnson's neck when his back is turned, or at +any other time, and you want me to believe that he hasn't done you +any harm. And yet you're afraid to the bottom of your soul. I know +it. A little while ago your face was as white as chalk, and now-- +now--it's the prettiest face I've ever seen. Now, see here, little +girl--" + +It gave him a pleasant thrill to see the glow in her eyes and the +eager poise of her slim, beautiful body as she listened to him. + +"I'm licked," he went on, smiling frankly at her. "At least for +the present. Maybe I've gone loony, like Bram, and don't realize +it yet. I set out for a couple of Indians, and find a madman; and +at the madman's cabin I find YOU, looking at first as though you +were facing straight up against the door of-of-well, seeing that +you can't understand I might as well say it--OF HELL! Now, if you +weren't afraid of Bram, and if he hasn't hurt you, why did you +look like that? I'm stumped. I repeat it--dead stumped. I'd give a +million dollars if I could make Bram talk. I saw what was in his +eyes. YOU saw it--and that pretty pink went out of your face so +quick it seemed as though your heart must have stopped beating. +And yet you're trying to tell me he hasn't harmed you. My God--I +wish I could believe it!" + +In her face he saw the reflection of the change that must have +come suddenly into his own. + +"You're a good fifteen hundred miles from any other human being +with hair and eyes and color like yours," he continued, as though +in speaking his thoughts aloud to her some ray of light might +throw itself on the situation. "If you had something black about +you. But you haven't. You're all gold--pink and white and gold. If +Bram has another fit of talking he may tell me you came from the +moon--that a chasse-galere crew brought you down out of space to +keep house for him. Great Scott, can't you give me some sort of an +idea of who you are and where you same from?" + +He paused for an answer--and she smiled at him. There was +something pathetically sweet in that smile. It brought a queer +lump into his throat, and for a space he forgot Bram. + +"You don't understand a cussed word of it, do you?" he said, +taking her hand in both his own and holding it closely for a +moment. "Not a word. But we're getting the drift of things-- +slowly. I know you've been here quite a while, and that morning, +noon and night since the chasse-galere brought you down from the +moon you've had nothing to put your little teeth into but meat. +Probably without salt, too. I saw how you wanted to throw yourself +down on that pile of stuff on the floor. Let's have breakfast!" + +He led her into the outer room, and eagerly she set to work +helping him gather the things from the floor. He felt that an +overwhelming load had been lifted from his heart, and he continued +to tell her about it while he hurried the preparation of the +breakfast for which he knew she was hungering. He did not look at +her too closely. All at once it had dawned upon him that her +situation must be tremendously more embarrassing than his own. He +felt, too, the tingle of a new excitement in his veins. It was a +pleasurable sensation, something which he did not pause to analyze +just at present. Only he knew that it was because she had told him +as plainly as she could that Bram had not harmed her. + +"And if he HAD I guess you'd have let me smash his brains out when +he was bending over the stove, wouldn't you?" he said, stirring +the mess of desiccated potato he was warming in one of his kit- +pans. He looked up to see her eyes shining at him, and her lips +parted. She was delightfully pretty. He knew that every nerve in +her body was straining to understand him. Her braid had slipped +over her shoulder. It was as thick as his wrist, and partly +undone. He had never dreamed that a woman's hair could hold such +soft warm fires of velvety gold. Suddenly he straightened himself +and tapped his chest, an inspiring thought leaping into his head. + +"I am Philip Raine," he said. "Philip Raine--Philip Raine--Philip +Raine--" + +He repeated the name over and over again, pointing each time to +himself. Instantly light flashed into her face. It was as if all +at once they had broken through the barrier that had separated +them. She repeated his name, slowly, clearly, smiling at him, and +then with both hands at her breast, she said: + +"Celie Armin." + +He wanted to jump over the stove and shake hands with her, but the +potatoes were sizzling. Celie Armin! He repeated the name as he +stirred the potatoes, and each time he spoke it she nodded. It was +decidedly a French name--but half a minute's experiment with a +few simple sentences of Pierre Breault's language convinced him +that the girl understood no word of it. + +Then he said again: + +"Celie!" + +Almost in the same breath she answered: + +"Philip!" + +Sounds outside the cabin announced the return of Bram. Following +the snarl and whine of the pack came heavy footsteps, and the +wolf-man entered. Philip did not turn his head toward the door. He +did not look at first to see what effect Bram's return had on +Celie Armin. He went on casually with his work. He even began to +whistle; and then, after a final stir or two at the potatoes, he +pointed to the pail in which the coffee was bubbling, and said: + +"Turn the coffee, Celie. We're ready!" + +He caught a glimpse of her face then. The excitement and color had +partly died out of it. She took the pail of coffee and went with +it to the table. + +Then Philip faced Bram. + +The wolf-man was standing with his back to the door. He had not +moved since entering, and he was staring at the scene before him +in a dull, stupid sort of way. In one hand he carried a pail +filled with water; in the other a frozen fish. + +"Too late with the fish, Bram," said Philip. "We couldn't make the +little lady wait. Besides, I think you've fed her on fish and meat +until she is just about ready to die. Come to breakfast!" + +He loaded a tin plate with hot potatoes, bannock-bread and rice +that he had cooked before setting out on the Barren, and placed it +before the girl. A second plate he prepared for Bram, and a third +for himself. Bram had not moved. He still held the pail and the +fish in his hands. Suddenly he lowered both to the floor with a +growl that seemed to come from the bottom of his great chest, and +came to the table. With one huge hand he seized Philip's arm. It +was not a man's grip. There was apparently no effort in it, and +yet it was a vise-like clutch that threatened to snap the bone. +And all the time Bram's eyes were on the girl. He drew Philip +back, released the terrible grip on his arm, and shoved the two +extra plates of food to the girl. Then he faced Philip. + +"We eat ze meat, m'sieu!" + +Quietly and sanely he uttered the words. In his eyes and face +there was no trace of madness. And then, even as Philip stared, +the change came. The giant flung back his head and his wild, mad +laugh rocked the cabin. Out in the corral the snarl and cry of the +wolves gave a savage response to it. + +It took a tremendous effort for Philip to keep a grip on himself. +In that momentary flash of sanity Bram had shown a chivalry which +must have struck deep home in the heart of the girl. There was a +sort of triumph in her eyes when he looked at her. She knew now +that he must understand fully what she had been trying to tell +him. Bram, in his madness, had been good to her. Philip did not +hesitate in the impulse of the moment. He caught Bram's hand and +shook it. And Bram, his laugh dying away in a mumbling sound, +seemed not to notice it. As Philip began preparing the fish the +wolf-man took up a position against the farther wall, squatted +Indian-fashion on his heels. He did not take his eyes from the +girl until she had finished, and Philip brought him a half of the +fried fish. He might as well have offered the fish to a wooden +sphinx. Bram rose to his feet, mumbling softly, and taking what +was left of one of the two caribou quarters he again left the +cabin. + +His mad laugh and the snarling outcry of the wolves came to them a +moment later. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + + + +Scarcely had the door closed when Celie Armin ran to Philip and +pulled him to the table. In the tense half hour of Bram's +watchfulness she had eaten her own breakfast as if nothing unusual +had happened; now she insisted on adding potatoes and bannock to +Philip's fish, and turned him a cup of coffee. + +"Bless your heart, you don't want to see me beat out of a +breakfast, do you?" he smiled up at her, feeling all at once an +immense desire to pull her head down to him and kiss her. "But you +don't understand the situation, little girl. Now I've been eating +this confounded bannock"--he picked up a chunk of it to +demonstrate his point--"morning, noon and night until the sight of +it makes me almost cry for one of mother's green cucumber pickles. +I'm tired of it. Bram's fish is a treat. And this coffee, seeing +that you have turned it in that way--" + +She sat opposite him while he ate, and he had the chance of +observing her closely while his meal progressed. It struck him +that she was growing prettier each time that he looked at her, and +he was more positive than ever that she was a stranger in the +northland. Again he told himself that she was not more than +twenty. Mentally he even went so far as to weigh her and would +have gambled that she would not have tipped a scale five pounds +one way or the other from a hundred and twenty. Some time he might +have seen the kind of violet-blue that was in her eyes, but he +could not remember it. She was lost--utterly lost at this far-end +of the earth. She was no more a part of it than a crepe de chine +ball dress or a bit of rose china. And there she was, sitting +opposite him, a bewitching mystery for him to solve. And she +WANTED to be solved! He could see it in her eyes, and in the +little beating throb at her throat. She was fighting, with him, to +find a way; a way to tell him who she was, and why she was here, +and what he must do for her. + +Suddenly he thought of the golden snare. That, after all, he +believed to be the real key to the mystery. He rose quickly from +the table and drew the girl to the window. At the far end of the +corral they could see Bram tossing chunks of meat to the horde of +beasts that surrounded him. In a moment or two he had the +satisfaction of seeing that his companion understood that he was +directing her attention to the wolf-man and not the pack. Then he +began unbraiding her hair. His fingers thrilled at the silken +touch of it. He felt his face flushing hot under his beard, and he +knew that her eyes were on him wonderingly. A small strand he +divided into three parts and began weaving into a silken thread +only a little larger than the wolf-man's snare. From, the woven +tress he pointed to Bram and in an instant her face lighted up +with understanding. + +She answered him in pantomime. Either she or Bram had cut the +tress from her head that had gone into the making of the golden +snare. And not only one tress, but several. There had been a +number of golden snares. She bowed her head and showed him where +strands as large as her little finger had been clipped in several +places. + +Philip almost groaned. She was telling him nothing new, except +that there had been many snares instead of one. + +He was on the point of speech when the look in her face held him +silent. Her eyes glowed with a sudden excitement--a wild +inspiration. She held out her hands until they nearly touched his +breast. + +"Philip Raine--Amerika!" she cried. + +Then, pressing her hands to her own breast, she added eagerly: + +"Celie Armin--Danmark!" + +"Denmark!" exclaimed Philip. "Is that it, little girl? You're from +Denmark? Denmark!" + +She nodded. + +"Kobenhavn--Danmark!" + +"Copenhagen, Denmark," he translated for himself. "Great Scott, +Celie--we're TALKING! Celie Armin, from Copenhagen, Denmark! But +how in Heaven's name did you get HERE?" He pointed to the floor +under their feet and embraced the four walls of the cabin in a +wide gesture of his arms. "How did you get HERE?" + +Her next words thrilled him. + +"Kobenhavn--Muskvas--St. Petersburg--Rusland--Sibirien--Amerika." + +"Copenhagen--Muskvas, whatever that is--St. Petersburg--Russia-- +Siberia--America," he repeated, staring at her incredulously. +"Celie, if you love me, be reasonable! Do you expect me to believe +that you came all the way from Denmark to this God-forsaken +madman's cabin in the heart of the Canada Barrens by way of Russia +and Siberia? YOU! I can't believe it. There's a mistake somewhere. +Here--" + +He thought of his pocket atlas, supplied by the department as a +part of his service kit, and remembered that in the back of it was +a small map of the world. In half a minute he had secured it and +was holding the map under her eyes. Her little forefinger touched +Copenhagen. Leaning over her shoulder, he felt her hair crumpling +against his breast. He felt an insane desire to bury his face in +it and hug her up close in his arms--for a single moment the +question of whether she came from Copenhagen or the moon was +irrelevant and of little consequence. He, at least, had found her. +He was digging her out of chaos, and he was filled with the joyous +exultation of a triumphant discoverer--almost the thrill of +ownership. He held his breath as he watched the little forefinger +telling him its story on the map. + +From Copenhagen it went to Moscow--which must have been Muskvas, +and from there it trailed slowly to St. Petersburg and thence +straight across Russia and Siberia to Bering Sea. + +"Skunnert," she said softly, and her finger came across to the +green patch on the map which was Alaska. + +It hesitated there. Evidently it was a question in her own mind +where she had gone after that. At least she could not tell him on +the map. And now, seeing that he was understanding her, she was +becoming visibly excited. She pulled him to the window and pointed +to the wolves. Alaska--and after that dogs and sledge. He nodded. +He was jubilant. She was Celie Armin, of Copenhagen, Denmark, and +had come to Alaska by way of Russia and Siberia--and after that +had traveled by dog-train. But WHY had she come, and what had +happened to make her the companion or prisoner of Bram Johnson? He +knew she was trying to tell him. With her back to the window she +talked to him again, gesturing with her hands, and almost sobbing +under the stress of the emotion that possessed her. His elation +turned swiftly to the old dread as he watched the change in her +face. Apprehension--a grim certainty--gripped hold of him. +Something terrible had happened to her--a thing that had racked +her soul and that filled her eyes with the blaze of a strange +terror as she struggled to make him understand. And then she broke +down, and with a sobbing cry covered her face with her hands. + +Out in the corral Philip heard Bram Johnson's laugh. It was a +mockery--a challenge. In an instant every drop of blood in his +body answered it in a surge of blind rage. He sprang to the stove, +snatched up a length of firewood, and in another moment was at the +door. As he opened it and ran out he heard Celie's wild appeal for +him to stop. It was almost a scream. Before he had taken a dozen +steps from the cabin he realized what the warning meant. The pack +had seen him and from the end of the corral came rushing at him in +a thick mass. + +This time Bram Johnson's voice did not stop them. He saw Philip, +and from the doorway Celie looked upon the scene while the blood +froze in her veins. She screamed--and in the same breath came the +wolf-man's laugh. Philip heard both as he swung the stick of +firewood over his head and sent it hurling toward the pack. The +chance accuracy of the throw gave him an instant's time in which +to turn and make a dash for the cabin. It was Celie who slammed +the door shut as he sprang through. Swift as a flash she shot the +bolt, and there came the lunge of heavy bodies outside. They could +hear the snapping of jaws and the snarling whine of the beasts. +Philip had never seen a face whiter than the girl's had gone. She +covered it with her hands, and he could see her trembling. A bit +of a sob broke hysterically from her lips. + +He knew of what she was thinking--the horrible thing she was +hiding from her eyes. It was plain enough to him now. Twenty +seconds more and they would have had him. And then-- + +He drew in a deep breath and gently uncovered her face. Her hands +shivered in his. And then a great throb of joy repaid him for his +venture into the jaws of death as he saw the way in which her +beautiful eyes were looking at him. + +"Celie--my little mystery girl--I've discovered something," he +cried huskily, holding her hands so tightly that it must have hurt +her. "I'm almost glad you can't understand me, for I wouldn't +blame you for being afraid of a man who told you he loved you an +hour or two after he first saw you. I love you. I've never wanted +anything in all my life as I want you. And I must be careful and +not let you know it, mustn't I? If I did you'd think I was some +kind of an animal-brute--like Bram. Wouldn't you?" + +Bram's voice came in a sharp rattle of Eskimo outside. Philip +could hear the snarling rebellion of the wolves as they slunk away +from the cabin, and he drew Celie back from the door. Suddenly she +freed her hands, ran to the door and slipped back the wooden bolt +as the wolf-man's hand fumbled at the latch. In a moment she was +back at his side. When Bram entered every muscle in Philip's body +was prepared for action. He was amazed at the wolf-man's +unconcern. He was mumbling and chuckling to himself, as if amused +at what he had seen. Celie's little fingers dug into Philip's arm +and he saw in her eyes a tense, staring look that had not been +there before. It was as if in Bram's face and his queer mumbling +she had recognized something which was not apparent to him. +Suddenly she left him and hurried into her room. During the few +moments she was gone Bram did not look once at Philip. His +mumbling was incessant. Perhaps a minute passed before the girl +reappeared. + +She went straight to Bram and before the wolf-man's eyes held a +long, shining tress of hair! + +Instantly the mumbling in Bram's throat ceased and he thrust out +slowly a huge misshapen hand toward the golden strand. Philip felt +his nerves stretching to the breaking point. With Bram the girl's +hair was a fetich. A look of strange exultation crept over the +giant's heavy features as his fingers clutched the golden +offering. It almost drew a cry of warning from Philip. He saw the +girl smiling in the face of a deadly peril--a danger of which she +was apparently unconscious. Her hair still fell loose about her in +a thick and shimmering glory. And BRAM'S EYES WERE ON IT AS HE +TOOK THE TRESS FROM HER FINGERS! Was it conceivable that this mad- +man did not comprehend his power! Had the thought not yet burned +its way into his thick brain that a treasure many times greater +than, that which she had doled out to him lay within the reach of +his brute hands at any time he cared to reach out for it? And was +it possible that the girl did not guess her danger as she stood +there? + +What she could see of his face must have been as pale as her own +when she looked at him. She smiled, and nodded at Bram. The giant +was turning slowly toward the window, and after a moment or two in +which they could hear him mumbling softly he sat down cross-legged +against the wall, divided the tress into three silken threads and +began weaving them into a snare. The color was returning to +Celie's face when Philip looked at her again. She told him with a +gesture of her head and hands that she was going into her room for +a time. He didn't blame her. The excitement had been rather +unusual. + +After she had gone he dug his shaving outfit out of his kit-bag. +It included a mirror and the reflection he saw in this mirror +fairly shocked him. No wonder the girl had been frightened at his +first appearance. It took him half an hour to shave his face +clean, and all that time Bram paid no attention to him but went on +steadily at his task of weaving the golden snare. Celie did not +reappear until the wolf-man had finished and was leaving the +cabin. The first thing she noticed was the change in Philip's +face. He saw the pleasure in her eyes and felt himself blushing. + +From the window they watched Bram. He had called his wolves and +was going with them to the gate. He carried his snowshoes and his +long whip. He went through the gate first and one by one let his +beasts out until ten of the twenty had followed him. The gate was +closed then. + +Celie turned to the table and Philip saw that she had brought from +her room a pencil and a bit of paper. In a moment she held the +paper out to him, a light of triumph in her face. At last they had +found a way to talk. On the paper was a crude sketch of a caribou +head. It meant that Bram had gone hunting. + +And in going Bram had left a half of his blood-thirsty pack in +the corral. There was no longer a doubt in Philip's mind. They +were not the chance guests of this madman. They were prisoners. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + + + +For a few minutes after the wolf-man and his hunters had gone from +the corral Philip did not move from the window. He almost forgot +that the girl was standing behind him. At no time since Pierre +Breault had revealed the golden snare had the situation been more +of an enigma to him than now. Was Bram Johnson actually mad--or +was he playing a colossal sham? The question had unleashed itself +in his brain with a suddenness that had startled him. Out of the +past a voice came to him distinctly, and it said, "A madman never +forgets!" It was the voice of a great alienist, a good friend of +his, with whom he had discussed the sanity of a man whose crime +had shocked the country. He knew that the words were true. Once +possessed by an idea the madman will not forget it. It becomes an +obsession with him--a part of his existence. In his warped brain a +suspicion never dies. A fear will smolder everlastingly. A hatred +lives steadily on. + +If Bram Johnson was mad would he play the game as he was playing +it now! He had almost killed Philip for possession of the food, +that the girl might have the last crumb of it. Now, without a sign +of the madman's caution, he had left it all within his reach +again. A dozen times the flaming suspicion in his eyes had been +replaced by a calm and stupid indifference. Was the suspicion real +and the stupidity a clever dissimulation? And if dissimulation-- +why? + +He was positive now that Bram had not harmed the girl in the way +he had dreaded. Physical desire had played no part in the wolf- +man's possession of her. Celie had made him understand that;--and +yet in Bram's eyes he had caught a look now and then that was like +the dumb worship of a beast. Only once had that look been anything +different--and that was when Celie had given him a tress of her +hair. Even the suspicion roused in him then was gone now, for if +passion and desire were smoldering in the wolf-man's breast he +would not have brought a possible rival to the cabin, nor would he +have left them alone together. + +His mind worked swiftly as he stared unseeing out into the corral. +He would no longer play the part of a pawn. Thus far Bram had held +the whip hand. Now he would take it from him no matter what +mysterious protestation the girl might make! The wolf-man had +given him a dozen opportunities to deliver the blow that would +make him a prisoner. He would not miss the next. + +He faced Celie with the gleam of this determination in his eyes. +She had been watching him intently and he believed that she had +guessed a part of his thoughts. His first business was to take +advantage of Brain's absence to search the cabin. He tried to make +Celie understand what his intentions were as he began. + +"You may have done this yourself," he told her. "No doubt you +have. There probably isn't a corner you haven't looked into. But I +have a hunch I may find something you missed--something +interesting." + +She followed him closely. He began at each wall and went over it +carefully, looking for possible hiding places. Then he examined +the floor for a loose sapling. At the end of half an hour his +discoveries amounted to nothing. He gave an exclamation of +satisfaction when under an old blanket in a dusty corner he found +a Colt army revolver. But it was empty, and he found no +cartridges. At last there was nothing left to search but the wolf- +man's bunk. At the bottom of this he found what gave him his first +real thrill--three of the silken snares made from Celie Armin's +hair. + +"We won't touch them," he said after a moment, replacing the bear +skin that had covered them. "It's good etiquette up here not to +disturb another man's cache and that's Bram's. I can't imagine any +one but a madman doing that. And yet--" + +He looked suddenly at Celie. + +"Do you suppose he was afraid of YOU?" he asked her. "Is that why +he doesn't leave even the butcher-knife in this shack? Was he +afraid you might shoot him in his sleep if he left the temptation +in your way?" + +A commotion among the wolves drew him to the window. Two of the +beasts were fighting. While his back was turned Celie entered her +room and returned a moment or two later with a handful of loose +bits of paper. The pack held Philip's attention. He wondered what +chance he would have in an encounter with the beasts which Bram +had left behind as a guard. Even if he killed Bram or made him a +prisoner he would still have that horde of murderous brutes to +deal with. If he could in some way induce the wolf-man to bring +his rifle into the cabin the matter would be easy. With Bram out +of the way he could shoot the wolves one by one from the window. +Without a weapon their situation would be hopeless. The pack--with +the exception of one huge, gaunt beast directly under the window-- +had swung around the end of the cabin out of his vision. The +remaining wolf in spite of the excitement of battle was gnawing +hungrily at a bone. Philip could hear the savage grind of its +powerful jaws, and all at once the thought of how they might work +out their salvation flashed upon him. They could starve the +wolves! It would take a week, perhaps ten days, but with Bram out +of the way and the pack helplessly imprisoned within the corral it +could be done. His first impulse now was to impress on Celie the +necessity of taking physical action against Bram. + +The sound of his own name turned him from the window with a sudden +thrill. + +If the last few minutes had inspired an eagerness for action in +his own mind he saw at a glance that something equally exciting +had possessed Celie Armin. Spread out on the table were the bits +of paper she had brought from her room, and, pointing to them, she +again called him by name. That she was laboring under a new and +unusual emotion impressed him immediately. He could see that she +was fighting to restrain an impulse to pour out in words what +would have been meaningless to him, and that she was telling him +the bits of paper were to take the place of voice. For one swift +moment as he advanced to the table the papers meant less to him +than the fact that she had twice spoken his name. Her soft lips +seemed to whisper it again as she pointed, and the look in her +eyes and the poise of her body recalled to him vividly the picture +of her as he had first seen her in the cabin. He looked at the +bits of paper. There were fifteen or twenty pieces, and on each +was sketched a picture. + +He heard a low catch in Celie's breath as he bent over them, and +his own pulse quickened. A glance was sufficient to show him that +with the pictures Celie was trying to tell him what he wanted to +know. They told her own story--who she was, why she was at Bram +Johnson's cabin, and how she had come. This, at least, was the +first thought that impressed him. He observed then that the bits +of paper were soiled and worn as though they had been handled a +great deal. He made no effort to restrain the exclamation that +followed this discovery. + +"You drew these pictures for Bram," he scanning them more +carefully. "That settles one thing. Bram doesn't know much more +about you than, I do. Ships, and dogs, and men--and fighting--a +lot of fighting--and--" + +His eyes stopped at one of the pictures and his heart gave a +sudden excited thump. He picked up the bit of paper which had +evidently been part of a small sack. Slowly he turned to the girl +and met her eyes. She was trembling in her eagerness for him to +understand. + +"That is YOU," he said, tapping the central figure in the sketch, +and nodding at her. "You--with your hair down, and fighting a +bunch of men who look as though they were about to beat your +brains out with clubs! Now--what in God's name does it mean? And +here's a ship up in the corner. That evidently came first. You +landed from that ship, didn't you? From the ship--the ship--the +ship--" + +"Skunnert!" she cried softly, touching the ship with her finger. +"Skunnert--Sibirien!" + +"Schooner-Siberia," translated Philip. "It sounds mightily like +that, Celie. Look here--" He opened his pocket atlas again at the +map of the world. "Where did you start from, and where did you +come ashore? If we can get at the beginning of the thing--" + +She had bent her head over the crook of his arm, so that in her +eager scrutiny of the map his lips for a moment or two touched the +velvety softness of her hair. Again he felt the exquisite thrill +of her touch, the throb of her body against him, the desire to +take her in his arms and hold her there. And then she drew back a +little, and her finger was once more tracing out its story on the +map. The ship had started from the mouth of the Lena River, in +Siberia, and had followed the coast to the blue space that marked +the ocean above Alaska. And there the little finger paused, and +with a hopeless gesture Celie intimated that was all she knew. +From somewhere out of that blue patch the ship had touched the +American shore. One after another she took up from the table the +pieces of paper that carried on the picture-story from that point. +It was, of course, a broken and disjointed story. But as it +progressed every drop of blood in Philip's body was stirred by the +thrill and mystery of it. Celie Armin had traveled from Denmark +through Russia to the Lena River in Siberia, and from there a ship +had brought her to the coast of North America. There had been a +lot of fighting, the significance of which he could only guess at; +and now, at the end, the girl drew for Philip another sketch in +which a giant and a horde of beasts appeared. It was a picture of +Bram and his wolves, and at last Philip understood why she did not +want him to harm the wolf-man. Bram had saved her from the fate +which the pictures only partly portrayed for him. He had brought +her far south to his hidden stronghold, and for some reason which +the pictures failed to disclose was keeping her a prisoner there. + +Beyond these things Celie Armin was still a mystery. + +Why had she gone to Siberia? What had brought her to the barren +Arctic coast of America? Who were the mysterious enemies from whom +Bram the madman had saved her? And who--who-- + +He looked again at one of the pictures which he had partly +crumpled in his hand. On it were sketched two people. One was a +figure with her hair streaming down--Celie herself. The other was +a man. The girl had pictured herself close in the embrace of this +man's arms. Her own arms encircled the man's neck. From the +picture Philip had looked at Celie, and the look he had seen in +her eyes and face filled his heart with a leaden chill. It was +more than hope that had flared up in his breast since he had +entered Brara Johnson's cabin. And now that hope went suddenly +out, and with its extinguishment he was oppressed by a deep and +gloomy foreboding. + +He went slowly to the window and looked out. + +The next moment Celie was startled by the sudden sharp cry that +burst from his lips. Swiftly she ran to his side. He had dropped +the paper. His hands were gripping the edge of the sill, and he +was staring like one who could not believe his own eyes. + +"Good God--look! Look at that!" + +They had heard no sound outside the cabin during the last few +minutes. Yet under their eyes, stretched out in the soiled and +trampled snow, lay the wolf that a short time before had been +gnawing a bone. The animal was stark dead. Not a muscle of its +body moved. Its lips were drawn back, its jaws agape, and under +the head was a growing smear of blood. It was not these things-- +not the fact but the INSTRUMENT of death that held Philip's eyes. +The huge wolf had been completely transfixed by a spear. + +Instantly Philip recognized it--the long, slender, javelin-like +narwhal harpoon used by only one people in the world, the +murderous little black-visaged Kogmollocks of Coronation Gulf and +Wollaston Land. + +He sprang suddenly back from the window, dragging Celie with him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + + + +"Kogmollocks--the blackest-hearted little devils alive when it +comes to trading wives and fighting," said Philip, a little +ashamed of the suddenness with which he had jumped back from the +window. "Excuse my abruptness, dear. But I'd recognize that death- +thing on the other side of the earth. I've seen them throw it like +an arrow for a hundred yards--and I have a notion they're watching +that window!" + +At sight of the dead wolf and the protruding javelin Celie's face +had gone as white as ash. Snatching up one of the pictures from +the table, she thrust it into Philip's hand. It was one of the +fighting pictures. + +"So it's YOU?" he said, smiling at her and trying to keep the +tremble of excitement out of his voice. "It's you they want, eh? +And they must want you bad. I've never heard of those little +devils coming within a hundred miles of this far south. They MUST +want you bad. Now--I wonder WHY?" His voice was calm again. It +thrilled him to see how utterly she was judging the situation by +the movement of his lips and the sound of his voice. With him +unafraid she would be unafraid. He judged that quickly. Her eyes +bared her faith in him, and suddenly he reached out and took her +face between his two hands, and laughed softly, while each instant +he feared the smash of a javelin through the window. "I like to +see that look in your eyes," he went on. "And I'm almost glad you +can't understand me, for I couldn't lie to you worth a cent. I +understand those pictures now--and I think we're in a hell of a +fix. The Eskimos have followed you and Bram down from the north, +and I'm laying a wager with myself that Bram won't return from the +caribou hunt. If they were Nunatalmutes or any other tribe I +wouldn't be so sure. But they're Kogmollocks. They're worse than +the little brown head-hunters of the Philippines when it comes to +ambush, and if Bram hasn't got a spear through him this minute +I'll never guess again!" He withdrew his hands from her face, +still smiling at her as he talked. The color was returning into +her face. Suddenly she made a movement as if to approach the +window. He detained her, and in the same moment there came a +fierce and snarling outcry from the wolves in the corral. Making +Celie understand that she was to remain where he almost forcibly +placed her near the table, Philip went again to the window. The +pack had gathered close to the gate and two or three of the wolves +were leaping excitedly against the sapling bars of their prison. +Between the cabin and the gate a second body lay in the snow. +Philip's mind leapt to a swift conclusion. The Eskimos had +ambushed Bram, and they believed that only the girl was in the +cabin. Intuitively he guessed how the superstitious little brown +men of the north feared the madman's wolves. One by one they were +picking them off with their javelins from outside the corral. + +As he looked a head and pair of shoulders rose suddenly above the +top of the sapling barrier, an arm shot out and he caught the +swift gleam of a javelin as it buried itself in the thick of the +pack. In a flash the head and shoulders of the javelin-thrower had +disappeared, and in that same moment Philip heard a low cry behind +him. Celie had returned to the window. She had seen what he had +seen, and her breath came suddenly in a swift and sobbing +excitement. In amazement he saw that she was no longer pale. A +vivid flush had gathered in each of her cheeks and her eyes blazed +with a dark fire. One of her hands caught his arm and her fingers +pinched his flesh. He stared dumbly for a moment at the strange +transformation in her. He almost believed that she wanted to +fight--that she was ready to rush out shoulder to shoulder with +him against their enemies. Scarcely had the cry fallen from her +lips when she turned and ran swiftly into her room. It seemed to +Philip that she was not gone ten seconds. When she returned she +thrust into his hand a revolver. + +It was a toy affair. The weight and size of the weapon told him +that before he broke it and looked at the caliber. It was a +"stocking" gun as they called those things in the service, fully +loaded with .22 caliber shots and good for a possible partridge at +fifteen or twenty paces. Under other conditions it would have +furnished him with considerable amusement. But the present was not +yesterday or the day before. It was a moment of grim necessity-- +and the tiny weapon gave him the satisfaction of knowing that he +was not entirely helpless against the javelins. It would shoot as +far as the stockade, and it might topple a man over if he hit him +just right. Anyway, it would make a noise. + +A noise! The grin that had come into his face died out suddenly as +he looked at Celie. He wondered if to her had come the thought +that now flashed upon him--if it was that thought that had made +her place the revolver in his hand. The blaze of excitement in her +wonderful eyes almost told him that it was. With Bram gone, the +Eskimos believed she was alone and at their mercy as soon as the +wolves were out of the way. Two or three shots from the revolver-- +and Philip's appearance in the corral--would shake their +confidence. It would at least warn them that Celie was not alone, +and that her protector was armed. For that reason Philip thanked +the Lord that a "stocking" gun had a bark like the explosion of a +toy cannon even if its bite was like that of an insect. + +Cautiously he took another look at Bram's wolves. The last javelin +had transfixed another of their number and the animal was dragging +itself toward the center of the corral. The remaining seven were a +dozen yards on the other side of the gate now, leaping and +snarling at the stockade, and he knew that the next attack would +come from there. He sprang to the door. Celie was only a step +behind him as he ran out, and was close at his side when he peered +around the end of the cabin. + +"They must not see you," he made her understand. "It won't do any +good and when they see another man they may possibly get the idea +in their heads that you're not here. There can't be many of them +or they'd make quicker work of the wolves. I should say not more +than--" + +"Se! Se!" + +The warning came in a low cry from Celie's lips. A dark head was +appearing slowly above the top of the stockade, and Philip darted +suddenly out into the open. The Eskimo did not see him, and Philip +waited until he was on the point of hurling his javelin before he +made a sound. Then he gave a roar that almost split his throat. In +the same instant he began firing. The crack of his pistol and the +ferocious outcry he made sent the Eskimo off the stockade like a +ball hit by a club. The pack, maddened by their inability to reach +their enemies, turned like a flash. Warned by one experience, +Philip hustled Celie into the cabin. They were scarcely over the +threshold when the wolves were at the door. + +"We're sure up against a nice bunch," he laughed, standing for a +moment with his arm still about Celie's waist. "A regular hell of +a bunch, little girl! Now if those wolves only had sense enough to +know that we're a little brother and sister to Bram, we'd be able +to put up a fight that would be some circus. Did you see that +fellow topple off the fence? Don't believe I hit him. At least I +hope I didn't. If they ever find out the size of this pea- +shooter's sting they'll sit up there like a row of crows and laugh +at us. But--what a bully NOISE it made!" + +He was blissfully unmindful of danger as he held her in the crook +of his arm, looking straight into her lovely face as he talked. It +was a moment of splendid hypocrisy. He knew that in her excitement +and the tremendous effort she was making to understand something +of what he was saying that she was unconscious of his embrace. +That, and the joyous thrill of the situation, sent the hot blood +into his face. + +"I'm dangerously near to going the limit," he told her, speaking +with a seriousness that would impress her. "I'd fight twenty of +those little devils single-handed to know just how you'd take it, +and I'd fight another dozen to know who that fellow is in the +picture. I'm tempted right now to hug you up close, and kiss you, +and let you know how I feel. I'd like to do that--before-- +anything happens. But would you understand? That's it--would you +understand that I love every inch of you from the ground up or +would you think I was just beast? That's what I'm afraid of. But +I'd like to let you know before I have to put up the big fight for +you. And it's coming--if they've got Bram. They'll break down the +gate to-night, or burn it, and with the wolves out of the way +they'll rush the cabin. And then--" + +Slowly he drew his arm from her, and something of the reaction of +his thoughts must have betrayed itself in the look that came into +his face. + +"I guess I've already pulled off a rotten deal on the other +fellow," he said, turning to the window. "That is, if you belong +to him. And if you didn't why would you stand there with your arms +about his neck and he hugging you up like that!" + +A few minutes before he had crumpled the picture in his hand and +dropped it on the floor. He picked it up now and mechanically +smoothed it out as he made his observation, through the window. +The pack had returned to the stockade. By the aimless manner in +which they had scattered he concluded that for the time at least +their mysterious enemies had drawn away from the corral. + +Celie had not moved. She was watching him earnestly. It seemed to +him, as he went to her with the picture, that a new and anxious +questioning had come into her eyes. It was as if she had +discovered something in him which she had not observed before, +something which she was trying to analyze even as he approached +her. He felt for the first time a sense of embarrassment. Was it +possible that she had comprehended some word or thought of what he +had expressed to her? He could not believe it And yet, a woman's +intuition-- + +He held out the picture. Celie took it and for a space looked at +it steadily without raising her eyes to meet his. When she did +look at him the blue in her eyes was so wonderful and deep and the +soul that looked out of them was so clear to his own vision that +the shame of that moment's hypocrisy when he had stood with his +arm about her submerged him completely. If she had not understood +him she at least HAD GUESSED. + +"Min fader," she said quietly, with the tip of her little +forefinger on the man in the picture. "Min fader." + +For a moment he thought she had spoken in English. + +"Your--your father?" he cried. + +She nodded. + +"Oo-ee-min fader!" + +"Thank the Lord," gasped Philip. And then he suddenly added, +"Celie, have you any more cartridges for this pop-gun? I feel like +licking the world!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + + + +He tried to hide his jubilation as he talked of more cartridges. +He forgot Bram, and the Eskimos waiting outside the corral, and +the apparent hopelessness of their situation. HER FATHER! He +wanted to shout, or dance around the cabin with Celie in his arms. +But the change that he had seen come over her made him understand +that he must keep hold of himself. He dreaded to see another light +come into those glorious blue eyes that had looked at him with +such a strange and questioning earnestness a few moments before-- +the fire of suspicion, perhaps even of fear if he went too far. He +realized that he had betrayed his joy when she had said that the +man in the picture was her father. She could not have missed that. +And he was not sorry. For him. there was an unspeakable thrill in +the thought that to a woman, no matter under what sun she is born, +there is at least one emotion whose understanding needs no words +of speech. And as he had talked to her, sublimely confident that +she could not understand him, she had read the betrayal in his +face. He was sure of it. And so he talked about cartridges. He +talked, he told himself afterwards, like an excited imbecile. + +There were no more cartridges. Celie made him understand that. All +they possessed were the four that remained in the revolver. As a +matter of fact this discovery did not disturb him greatly. At +close quarters he would prefer a good club to the pop-gun. Such a +club, in the event of a rush attack by the Eskimos, was an +important necessity, and he began looking about the cabin to see +what he could lay his hands on. He thought of the sapling cross- +pieces in Bram's bunk against the wall and tore one out. It was +four feet in length and as big around as his fist at one end while +at the other it tapered down so that he could grip it easily with +his hands. + +"Now we're ready for them," he said, testing the poise and swing +of the club as he stood in the center of the room. "Unless they +burn us out they'll never get through that door. I'm promising you +that--s'elp me God I am, Celie!" + +As she looked at him a flush burned in her cheeks. He was eager to +fight--it seemed to her that he was almost hoping for the attack +at the door. It made her splendidly unafraid, and suddenly she +laughed softly--a nervous, unexpected little laugh which she could +not hold back, and he turned quickly to catch the warm glow in her +eyes. Something went up into his throat as she stood there looking +at him like that. He had never seen any one quite so beautiful. He +dropped his club, and held out his hand. + +"Let's shake, Celie," he said. "I'm mighty glad you understand-- +we're pals." + +Unhesitatingly she gave him her hand, and in spite of the fact +that death lurked outside they smiled into each other's eyes. +After that she went into her room. For half an hour Philip did not +see her again. + +During that half hour he measured up the situation more calmly. He +realized that the exigency was tremendously serious, and that +until now he had not viewed it with the dispassionate coolness +that characterized the service of the uniform he wore. Celie was +accountable for that. He confessed the fact to himself, not +without a certain pleasurable satisfaction. He had allowed her +presence, and his thoughts of her, to fill the adventure +completely for him, and as a result they were now facing an +appalling danger. If he had followed his own judgment, and had +made Bram Johnson a prisoner, as he should have done in his line +of duty, matters would have stood differently. + +For several minutes after Celie had disappeared into her room he +studied the actions of the wolves in the corral. A short time +before he had considered a method of ridding himself of Bram's +watchful beasts. Now he regarded them as the one greatest +protection they possessed. There were seven left. He was confident +they would give warning the moment the Eskimos approached the +stockade again. But would their enemies return? The fact that only +one man had attacked the wolves at a time was almost convincing +evidence that they were very few in number--perhaps only a +scouting party of three or four. Otherwise, if they had come in +force, they would have made short work of the pack. The thought +became a positive conviction as he looked through the window. Bram +had fallen a victim to a single javelin, and the scouting party of +Kogmollocks had attempted to complete their triumph by carrying +Celie back with them to the main body. Foiled in this attempt, and +with the knowledge that a new and armed enemy opposed them, they +were possibly already on their way for re-enforcements. + +If this were so there could be but one hope--and that was an +immediate escape from the cabin. And between the cabin door and +the freedom of the forest were Bram's seven wolves! + +A feeling of disgust, almost of anger, swept over him as he drew +Celie's little revolver from his pocket and held it in the palm of +his hand. There were four cartridges left. But what would they +avail against that horde of beasts! They would stop them no more +than so many pin-pricks. And what even would the club avail? +Against two or three he might put up a fight. But against seven-- + +He cursed Bram under his breath. It was curious that in that same +instant the thought flashed upon him that the wolf-man might not +have fallen a victim to the Eskimos. Was it not possible that the +spying Kogmollocks had seen him go away on the hunt, and had taken +advantage of the opportunity to attack the cabin? They had +evidently thought their task would be an easy one. What Philip saw +through the window set his pulse beating quickly with the belief +that this last conjecture was the true one. The world outside was +turning dark. The sky was growing thick and low. In half an hour a +storm would break. The Eskimos had foreseen that storm. They knew +that the trail taken in their flight, after they had possessed +themselves of the girl, would very soon be hidden from the eyes of +Bram and the keen scent of his wolves. So they had taken the +chance--the chance to make Celie their prisoner before Bram +returned. + +And why, Philip asked himself, did these savage little barbarians +of the north want HER? The fighting she had pictured for him had +not startled him. For a long time the Kogmollocks had been making +trouble. In the last year they had killed a dozen white men along +the upper coast, including two American explorers and a +missionary. Three patrols had been sent to Coronation Gulf and +Bathurst Inlet since August. With the first of those patrols, +headed by Olaf Anderson, the Swede, he had come within an ace of +going himself. A rumor had come down to Churchill just before he +left for the Barrens that Olaf's party of five men had been wiped +out. It was not difficult to understand why the Eskimos had +attacked Celie Armin's father and those who had come ashore with +him from the ship. It was merely a question of lust for white +men's blood and white men's plunder, and strangers in their +country would naturally be regarded as easy victims. The +mysterious and inexplicable part of the affair was their pursuit +of the girl. In this pursuit the Kogmollocks had come far beyond +the southernmost boundary of their hunting grounds. Philip was +sufficiently acquainted with the Eskimos to know that in their +veins ran very little of the red-blooded passion of the white man. +Matehood was more of a necessity imposed by nature than a joy in +their existence, and it was impossible for him to believe that +even Celie Armin's beauty had roused the desire for possession +among them. + +His attention turned to the gathering of the storm. The amazing +swiftness with which the gray day was turning into the dark gloom +of night fascinated him and he almost called to Celie that she +might look upon the phenomenon with him. It was piling in from the +vast Barrens to the north and east and for a time it was +accompanied by a stillness that was oppressive. He could no longer +distinguish a movement in the tops of the cedars and banskian pine +beyond the corral. In the corral itself he caught now and then the +shadowy, flitting movement of the wolves. He did not hear Celie +when she came out of her room. So intently was he straining his +eyes to penetrate the thickening pall of gloom that he was +unconscious of her presence until she stood close at his side. +There was something in the awesome darkening of the world that +brought them closer in that moment, and without speaking Philip +found her hand and held it in his own. They heard then a low +whispering sound--a sound that came creeping up out of the end of +the world like a living thing; a whisper so vast that, after a +little, it seemed to fill the universe, growing louder and louder +until it was no longer a whisper but a moaning, shrieking wail. It +was appalling as the first blast of it swept over the cabin. No +other place in the world is there storm like the storm that sweeps +over the Great Barren; no other place in the world where storm is +filled with such a moaning, shrieking tumult of VOICE. It was not +new to Philip. He had heard it when it seemed to him that ten +thousand little children were crying under the rolling and +twisting onrush of the clouds; he had heard it when it seemed to +him the darkness was filled with an army of laughing, shrieking +madmen--storm out of which rose piercing human shrieks and the +sobbing grief of women's voices. It had driven people mad. Through +the long dark night of winter, when for five months they caught no +glimpse of the sun, even the little brown Eskimos went keskwao and +destroyed themselves because of the madness that was in that +storm. + +And now it swept over the cabin, and in Celie's throat there rose +a little sob. So swiftly had darkness gathered that Philip could +no longer see her, except where her face made a pale shadow in the +gloom, but he could feel the tremble of her body against him. Was +it only this morning that he had first seen her, he asked himself? +Was it not a long, long time ago, and had she not in that time +become, flesh and soul, a part of him? He put out his arms. Warm +and trembling and unresisting in that thick gloom she lay within +them. His soul rose in a wild ecstasy and rode on the wings of the +storm. Closer he held her against his breast, and he said: + +"Nothing can hurt you, dear. Nothing--nothing--" + +It was a simple and meaningless thing to say--that, and only +that. And yet he repeated it over and over again, holding her +closer and closer until her heart was throbbing against his own. +"Nothing can hurt you. Nothing--nothing--" + +He bent his head. Her face was turned up to him, and suddenly he +was thrilled by the warm sweet touch of her lips. He kissed her. +She did not strain away from him. He felt--in that darkness--the +wild fire in her face. + +"Nothing can hurt you, nothing--nothing--" he cried almost +sobbingly in his happiness. + +Suddenly there came a blast of the storm that rocked the cabin +like the butt of a battering-ram, and in that same moment there +came from just outside the window a shrieking cry such as Philip +had never heard in all his life before. And following the cry +there rose above the tumult of the storm the howling of Bram +Johnson's wolves. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + + + +For a space Philip thought that the cry must have come from Bram +Johnson himself--that the wolf-man had returned in the pit of the +storm. Against his breast Celie had apparently ceased to breathe. +Both listened for a repetition of the sound, or for a signal at +the barred door. It was strange that in that moment the wind +should die down until they could hear the throbbing of their own +hearts. Celie's was pounding like a little hammer, and all at once +he pressed his face down against hers and laughed with sudden and +joyous understanding. + +"It was only the wind, dear," he said. "I never heard anything +like it before--never! It even fooled the wolves. Bless your dear +little heart how it frightened you! And it was enough, too. Shall +we light some of Bram's candles?" + +He held her hand as he groped his way to where he had seen Bram's +supply of bear-dips. She held two of the candles while he lighted +them and their yellow flare illumined her face while his own was +still in shadow. What he saw in its soft glow and the shine of her +eyes made him almost take her in his arms again, candles and all. +And then she turned with them and went to the table. He continued +to light candles until the sputtering glow of half a dozen of them +filled the room. It was a wretched wastefulness, but it was also a +moment in which he felt himself fighting to get hold of himself +properly. And he felt also the desire to be prodigal about +something. When he had lighted his sixth candle, and then faced +Celie, she was standing near the table looking at him so quietly +and so calmly and with such a wonderful faith in her eyes that he +thanked God devoutly he had kissed her only once--just that once! +It was a thrilling thought to know that SHE knew he loved her. +There was no doubt of it now. And the thought of what he might +have done in that darkness and in the moment of her helplessness +sickened him. He could look her straight in the eyes now-- +unashamed and glad. And she was unashamed, even if a little +flushed at what had happened. The same thought was in their minds +--and he knew that she was not sorry. Her eyes and the quivering +tremble of a smile on her lips told him that. She had braided her +hair in that interval when she had gone to her room, and the braid +had fallen over her breast and lay there shimmering softly in the +candle-glow. He wanted to take her in his arms again. He wanted to +kiss her on the mouth and eyes. But instead of that he took the +silken braid gently in his two hands and crushed it against his +lips. + +"I love you," he cried softly. "I love you." + +He stood for a moment or two with his head bowed, the thrill of +her hair against his face. It was as if he was receiving some kind +of a wonderful benediction. And then in a voice that trembled a +little she spoke to him. Before he could see fully what was in her +eyes she turned suddenly to the wall, took down his coat, and hung +it over the window. When he saw her face again it was gloriously +flushed. She pointed to the candles. + +"No danger of that," he said, comprehending her. "They won't throw +any javelins in this storm. Listen!" + +It was the wolves again. In a moment their cry was drowned in a +crash of the storm that smote the cabin like a huge hand. Again it +was wailing over them in a wild orgy of almost human tumult. He +could see its swift effect on Celie in spite of her splendid +courage. It was not like the surge of mere wind or the roll of +thunder. Again he was inspired by thought of his pocket atlas, and +opened it at the large insert map of Canada. + +"I'll show you why the wind does that," he explained to her, +drawing her to the table and. spreading out the map. "See, here is +the cabin." He made a little black dot with her pencil, and +turning to the four walls of Bram's stronghold made her understand +what it meant. "And there's the big Barren," he went on, tracing +it out with the pencil-point. "Up here, you see, is the Arctic +Ocean, and away over there the Roes Welcome and Hudson's Bay. +That's where the storm starts, and when it gets out on the Barren, +without a tree or a rock to break its way for five hundred miles-- +" + +He told of the twisting air-currents there and how the storm- +clouds sometimes swept so low that they almost smothered one. For +a few moments he did not look at Celie or he would have seen +something in her face which could not have been because of what he +was telling her, and which she could at best only partly +understand. She had fixed her eyes on the little black dot. THAT +was the cabin. For the first time the map told her where she was, +and possibly how she had arrived there. Straight down to that dot +from the blue space of the ocean far to the north the map-makers +had trailed the course of the Coppermine River. Celie gave an +excited little cry and caught Philip's arm, stopping him short in +his explanation of the human wailings in the storm. Then she +placed a forefinger on the river. + +"There--there it is!" she told him, as plainly as though her voice +was speaking to him in his own language. "We came down that river. +The Skunnert landed us THERE," and she pointed to the mouth of the +Coppermine where it emptied into Coronation Gulf. "And then we +came down, down, down--" + +He repeated the name of the river. + +"THE COPPERMINE." + +She nodded, her breath breaking a little in an increasing +excitement. She seized the pencil and two-thirds of the distance +down the Coppermine made a cross. It was wonderful, he thought, +how easily she made him understand. In a low, eager voice she was +telling him that where she had put the cross the treacherous +Kogmollocks had first attacked them. She described with the pencil +their flight away from the river, and after that their return--and +a second fight. It was then Bram Johnson had come into the scene. +And back there, at the point from which the wolf-man had fled with +her, was her FATHER. That was the chief thing she was striving to +drive home in his comprehension of the situation. Her FATHER! And +she believed he was alive, for it was an excitement instead of +hopelessness or grief that possessed her as she talked to him. It +gave him a sort of shock. He wanted to tell her, with his arms +about her, that it was impossible, and that it was his duty to +make her realize the truth. Her father was dead now, even if she +had last seen him alive. The little brown men had got him, and had +undoubtedly hacked him into small pieces, as was their custom when +inspired by war-madness. It was inconceivable to think of him as +still being alive even if there had been armed friends with him. +There was Olaf Anderson and his five men, for instance. Fighters +every one of them. And now they were dead. What chance could this +other man have? + +Her joy when she saw that he understood her added to the +uncertainty which was beginning to grip him in spite of all that +the day had meant for him. Her faith in him, since that thrilling +moment in the darkness, was more than ever like that of a child. +She was unafraid of Bram now. She was unafraid of the wolves and +the storm and the mysterious pursuers from out of the north. Into +his keeping she had placed herself utterly, and while this +knowledge filled him with a great happiness he was now disturbed +by the fact that, if they escaped from the cabin and the Eskimos, +she believed he would return with her down the Coppermine in an +effort to find her father. He had already made the plans for their +escape and they were sufficiently hazardous. Their one chance was +to strike south across the thin arm of the Barren for Pierre +Breault's cabin. To go in the opposite direction--farther north +without dogs or sledge--would be deliberate suicide. + +Several times during the afternoon he tried to bring himself to +the point of urging on her the naked truth--that her father was +dead. There was no doubt of that--not the slightest. But each time +he fell a little short. Her confidence in the belief that her +father was alive, and that he was where she had marked the cross +on the map, puzzled him. Was it conceivable, he asked himself, +that the Eskimos had some reason for NOT killing Paul Armin, and +that Celie was aware of the fact? If so he failed to discover it. +Again and again he made Celie understand that he wanted to know +why the Eskimos wanted HER, and each time she answered him with a +hopeless little gesture, signifying that she did not know. He did +learn that there were two other white men with Paul Armin. + +Only by looking at his watch did he know when the night closed in. +It was seven o'clock when he led Celie to her room and urged her +to go to bed. An hour later, listening at her door, he believed +that she was asleep. He had waited for that, and quietly he +prepared for the hazardous undertaking he had set for himself. He +put on his cap and coat and seized the club he had taken from +Bram's bed. Then very cautiously he opened the outer door. A +moment later he stood outside, the door closed behind him, with +the storm pounding in his face. + +Fifty yards away he could not have heard the shout of a man. And +yet he listened, gripping his club hard, every nerve in his body +strained to a snapping tension. Somewhere within that small circle +of the corral were Bram Johnson's wolves, and as he hesitated with +his back to the door he prayed that there would come no lull in +the storm during the next few minutes. It was possible that he +might evade them with the crash and thunder of the gale about him. +They could not see him, or hear him, or even smell him in that +tumult of wind unless on his way to the gate he ran into them. In +that moment he would have given a year of life to have known where +they were. Still listening, still fighting to hear some sound of +them in the shriek of the storm, he took his first step out into +the pit of darkness. He did not run, but went as cautiously as +though the night was a dead calm, the club half poised in his +hands. He had measured the distance and the direction of the gate +and when at last he touched the saplings of the stockade he knew +that he could not be far off in his reckoning. Ten paces to the +right he found the gate and his heart gave a sudden jump of +relief. Half a minute more and it was open. He propped it securely +against the beat of the storm with the club he had taken from Bram +Johnson's bed. + +Then he turned back to the cabin, with the little revolver +clutched in his hand, and his face was strained and haggard when +he found the door and returned again into the glow of the candle- +light. In the center of the room, her face as white as his own, +stood Celie. A great fear must have gripped her, for she stood +there in her sleeping gown with her hands clutched at her breast, +her eyes staring at him in speechless questioning. He explained by +opening the door a bit and pantomiming to the gate outside the +cabin. + +"The wolves will be gone in the morning," he said, a ring of +triumph in his voice. "I have opened the gate. There is nothing in +our way now." + +She understood. Her eyes were a glory to look into then. Her +fingers unclenched at her breast, she gave a short, quick breath +and a little cry--and her arms almost reached out to him. He was +afraid of himself as he went to her and led her again to the door +of her room. And there for a moment they paused, and she looked up +into his face. Her hand crept from his and went softly to his +shoulder. She said something to him, almost in a whisper, and he +could no longer fight against the pride and the joy and the faith +he saw in her eyes. He bent down, slowly so that she might draw +away from him if she desired, and kissed her upturned lips. And +then, with a strange little cry that was like the soft note of a +bird, she turned from him and disappeared into the darkness of her +room. + +A great deal of that night's storm passed over his head unheard +after that. It was late when he went to bed. He crowded Bram's +long box-stove with wood before he extinguished the last candle. + +And for an hour after that he lay awake, thinking of Celie and of +the great happiness that had come into his life all in one day. +During that hour he made the plans of a lifetime. Then he, too, +fell into sleep--a restless, uneasy slumber filled with many +visions. For a time there had come a lull in the gale, but now it +broke over the cabin in increased fury. A hand seemed slapping at +the window, threatening to break it, and a volley of wind and snow +shot suddenly down the chimney, forcing open the stove door, so +that a shaft of ruddy light cut like a red knife through the dense +gloom of the cabin. In varying ways the sounds played a part in +Philip's dreams. In all those dreams, and segments of dreams, the +girl was present. It was strange that in all of them she should be +his wife. And it was strange that the big woods and the deep snows +played no part in them. He was back home. And Celie was with him. +Once they went for wildflowers and were caught in a thunderstorm, +and ran to an old and disused barn in the center of a field for +shelter. He could feel Celie trembling against him, and he was +stroking her hair as the thunder crashed over them and the +lightning filled her eyes with fear. After that there came to him +a vision of early autumn nights when they went corn-roasting, with +other young people. He had always been afflicted with a slight +nasal trouble, and smoke irritated him. It set him sneezing, and +kept him dodging about the fire, and Celie was laughing as the +smoke persisted in following him about, like a young scamp of a +boy bent on tormenting him. The smoke was unusually persistent on +this particular night, until at last the laughter went out of the +girl's face, and she ran into his arms and covered his eyes with +her soft hands. Restlessly he tossed in his bunk, and buried his +face in the blanket that answered for a pillow. The smoke reached +him; even there, and he sneezed chokingly. In that instant Celie's +face disappeared. He sneezed again--and awoke. + +In that moment his dazed senses adjusted themselves. The cabin was +full of smoke. It partly blinded him, but through it he could see +tongues of fire shooting toward the ceiling. He heard then the +crackling of burning pitch--a dull and consuming roar, and with a +stifled cry he leaped from his bunk and stood on his feet. Dazed +by the smoke and flame, he saw that there was not the hundredth +part of a second to lose. Shouting Celie's name he ran to her +door, where the fire was already beginning to shut him out. His +first cry had awakened her and she was facing the lurid glow of +the flame as he rushed in. Almost before she could comprehend what +was happening he had wrapped one of the heavy bear skins about her +and had swept her into his arms. With her face crushed against his +breast he lowered his head and dashed back into the fiery +holocaust of the outer room. The cabin, with its pitch-filled +logs, was like a box made of tinder, and a score of men could not +have beat out the fire that was raging now. The wind beating from +the west had kept it from reaching the door opening into the +corral, but the pitch was hissing and smoking at the threshold as +Philip plunged through the blinding pall and fumbled for the +latch. + +Not ten seconds too soon did he stagger with his burden out into +the night. As the wind drove in through the open door the flames +seemed to burst in a sudden explosion and the cabin was a seething +snarl of flame. It burst through the window and out of the chimney +and Philip's path to the open gate was illumined by a fiery glow. +Not until he had passed beyond the stockade to the edge of the +forest did he stop and look back. Over their heads the wind wailed +and moaned in the spruce tops, but even above that sound came the +roar of the fire. Against his breast Philip heard a sobbing cry, +and suddenly he held the girl closer, and crushed his face down +against hers, fighting to keep back the horror that was gripping +at his heart. Even as he felt her arms creeping up out of the +bearskin and clinging about his neck he felt upon him like a +weight of lead the hopelessness of a despair as black as the night +itself. The cabin was now a pillar of flame, and in it was +everything that had made life possible for them. Food, shelter, +clothing--all were gone. In this moment he did not think of +himself, but of the girl he held in his arms, and he strained her +closer and kissed her lips and her eyes and her tumbled hair there +in the storm-swept darkness, telling her what he knew was now a +lie--that she was safe, that nothing could harm her. Against him +he felt the tremble and throb of her soft body, and it was this +that filled him with the horror of the thing--the terror of the +thought that her one garment was a bearskin. He had felt, a moment +before, the chill touch of a naked little foot. + +And yet he kept saying, with his face against hers: + +"It's all right, little sweetheart. We'll come out all right--we +sure will!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + + + +His first impulse, after those few appalling seconds following +their escape from the fire, was to save something from the cabin. +Still talking to Celie he dropped on his knees and tucked her up +warmly in the bearskin, with her back to a tree. He thanked God +that it was a big skin and that it enveloped her completely. +Leaving her there he ran back through the gate. He no longer +feared the wolves. If they had not already escaped into the forest +he knew they would not attack him in that hot glare of the one +thing above all others they feared--fire. For a space thought of +the Eskimos, and the probability of the fire bringing them from +wherever they had sought shelter from the storm, was secondary to +the alarming necessity which faced him. Because of his +restlessness and his desire to be ready for any emergency he had +not undressed when he threw himself on his bunk that night, but he +was without a coat or cap. And Celie! He cried out aloud in his +anguish when he stopped just outside the deadline of the furnace +of flame that was once the cabin, and standing there with clenched +hands he cursed himself for the carelessness that had brought her +face to face with a peril deadlier than the menace of the Eskimos +or Bram Johnson's wolves. He alone was responsible. His +indiscretion in overfilling the stove had caused the fire, and in +that other moment--when he might have snatched up more than the +bearskin--his mind had failed to act. + +In the short space he stood there helplessly in the red heat of +the fire the desperateness of the situation seared itself like the +hot flame itself in his brain. As prisoners in Bram's cabin, +guarded by the wolves and attacked by the Eskimos, they still had +shelter, food, clothing--a chance to live, at least the chance to +fight. And now-- + +He put a hand to his bare head and faced the direction of the +storm. With the dying away of the wind snow had begun to fall, and +with this snow he knew there would come a rising temperature. It +was probably twenty degrees below zero, and unless the wind went +down completely his ears would freeze in an hour or two. Then he +thought of the thick German socks he wore. One of them would do +for a cap. His mind worked swiftly after that. There was, after +all, a tremendous thrill in the thought of fighting the odds +against him, and in the thought of the girl waiting for him in the +bearskin, her life depending upon him utterly now. Without him she +could not move from the tree where he had left her unless her +naked feet buried themselves in the snow. If something happened to +him--she would die. Her helplessness filled him suddenly with a +wild exultation, the joy of absolute possession that leapt for an +instant or two above his fears. She was something more--now--than +the woman he loved. She was a little child, to be carried in his +arms, to be sheltered from the wind and the cold until the last +drop of blood had ceased to flow in his veins. His was the mighty +privilege now to mother her until the end came for them both--or +some miracle saved them. The last barrier was gone from between +them. That he had met her only yesterday was an unimportant +incident now. The world had changed, life had changed, a long time +had passed. She belonged to him as utterly as the stars belonged +to the skies. In his arms she would find life--or death. + +He was braced for the fight. His mind, riding over its first +fears, began to shape itself for action even as he turned back +toward the edge of the forest. Until then he had not thought of +the other cabin--the cabin which Bram and he had passed on their +way in from the Barren. His heart rose up suddenly in his throat +and he wanted to shout. That cabin was their salvation! It was not +more than eight or ten miles away, and he was positive that he +could find it. + +He ran swiftly through the increasing circle of light made by the +burning logs. If the Eskimos had not gone far some one of them +would surely see the red glow of the fire, and discovery now meant +death. In the edge of the trees, where the shadows were deep, he +paused and looked back. His hand fumbled where the left-pocket of +his coat would have been, and as he listened to the crackling of +the flames and stared into the heart of the red glow there smote +him with sudden and sickening force a realization of their +deadliest peril. In that twisting inferno of burning pitch was his +coat, and in the left-hand pocket of that coat WERE HIS MATCHES! + +Fire! Out there in the open a seething, twisting mass of it, +taunting him with its power, mocking him as pitiless as the mirage +mocks a thirst-crazed creature of the desert. In an hour or two it +would be gone. He might keep up its embers for a time--until the +Eskimos, or starvation, or still greater storm put an end to it. +The effort, in any event, would be futile in the end. Their one +chance lay in finding the other cabin, and reaching it quickly. +When it came to the point of absolute necessity he could at least +try to make fire as he had seen an Indian make it once, though at +the time he had regarded the achievement as a miracle born of +unnumbered generations of practice. + +He heard the glad note of welcome in Celie's throat when he +returned to her. She spoke his name. It seemed to him that there +was no note of fear in her voice, but just gladness that he had +come back to her in that pit of darkness. He bent down and tucked +her snugly in the big bear-skin before he took her up in his arms +again. He held her so that her face was snuggled close against his +neck, and he kissed her soft mouth again, and whispered to her as +he began picking his way through the forest. His voice, +whispering, made her understand that they must make no sound. She +was tightly imprisoned in the skin, but all at once he felt one of +her hands work its way out of the warmth of it and lay against his +cheek. It did not move away from his face. Out of her soul and +body there passed through that contact of her hand the confession +that made him equal to fighting the world. For many minutes after +that neither of them spoke. The moan of the wind was growing less +and less in the treetops, and once Philip saw a pale break where +the clouds had split asunder in the sky. The storm was at an end-- +and it was almost dawn. In a quarter of an hour the shot like snow +of the blizzard had changed to big soft flakes that dropped +straight out of the clouds in a white deluge. By the time day came +their trail would be completely hidden from the eyes of the +Eskimos. Because of that Philip traveled as swiftly as the +darkness and the roughness of the forest would allow him. As +nearly as he could judge he kept due east. For a considerable time +he did not feel the weight of the precious burden in his arms. He +believed that they were at least half a mile from the burned cabin +before he paused to rest. Even then he spoke to Celie in a low +voice. He had stopped where the trunk of a fallen tree lay as high +as his waist, and on this he seated the girl, holding her there in +the crook of his arm. With his other hand he fumbled to see if the +bearskin protected her fully, and in the investigation his hand +came in contact again with one of her bare feet. Celie gave a +little jump. Then she laughed, and he made sure that the foot was +snug and warm before he went on. + +Twice in the nest half mile he stopped. The third time, a full +mile from the cabin, was in a dense growth of spruce through the +tops of which snow and wind did not penetrate. Here he made a nest +of spruce-boughs for Celie, and they waited for the day. In the +black interval that precedes Arctic dawn they listened for sounds +that might come to them. Just once came the wailing howl of one of +Bram's wolves, and twice Philip fancied that he heard the distant +cry of a human voice. The second time Celie's fingers tightened +about his own to tell him that she, too, had heard. + +A little later, leaving Celie alone, Philip went back to the edge +of the spruce thicket and examined closely their trail where it +had crossed a bit of open. It was not half an hour old, yet the +deluge of snow had almost obliterated the signs of their passing. +His one hope was that the snowfall would continue for another +hour. By that time there would not be a visible track of man or +beast, except in the heart of the thickets. But he knew that he +was not dealing with white men or Indians now. The Eskimos were +night-trackers and night-hunters. For five months out of every +twelve their existence depended upon their ability to stalk and +kill in darkness. If they had returned to the burning cabin it was +possible, even probable, that they were close on their heels now. + +For a second time he found himself a stout club. He waited, +listening, and straining his eyes to penetrate the thick gloom; +and then, as his own heart-beats came to him audibly, he felt +creeping over him a slow and irresistible foreboding--a +premonition of something impending, of a great danger close at +hand. His muscles grew tense, and he clutched the club, ready for +action. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + + + +It seemed to Philip, as he stood with the club ready in his hand, +that the world had ceased to breathe in its anticipation of the +thing for which he was waiting--and listening. The wind had +dropped dead. There was not a rustle in the tree-tops, not a sound +to break the stillness. The silence, so close after storm, was an +Arctic phenomenon which did not astonish him, and yet the effect +of it was almost painfully gripping. Minor sounds began to impress +themselves on his senses--the soft murmur of the falling snow, his +own breath, the pounding of his heart. He tried to throw off the +strange feeling that oppressed him, but it was impossible. Out +there in the darkness he would have sworn that there were eyes and +ears strained as his own were strained. And the darkness was +lifting. Shadows began to disentangle themselves from the gray +chaos. Trees and bushes took form, and over his head the last +heavy windrows of clouds shouldered their way out of the sky. + +Still, as the twilight of dawn took the place of night, he did not +move, except to draw himself a little closer into the shelter of +the scrub spruce behind which he had hidden himself. He wondered +if Celie would be frightened at his absence. But he could not +compel himself to go on--or back. SOMETHING WAS COMING! He was as +positive of it as he was of the fact that night was giving place +to day. Yet he could see nothing--hear nothing. It was light +enough now for him to see movement fifty yards away, and he kept +his eyes fastened on the little open across which their trail had +come. If Olaf Anderson the Swede had been there he might have told +him of another night like this, and another vigil. For Olaf had +learned that the Eskimos, like the wolves, trail two by two and +four by four, and that--again like the wolves--they pursue not ON +the trail but with the trail between them. + +But it was the trail that Philip watched; and as he kept his +vigil--that inexplicable mental undercurrent telling him that his +enemies were coming--his mind went back sharply to the girl a +hundred yards behind him. The acuteness of the situation sent +question after question rushing through his mind, even as he +gripped his club, For her he was about to fight. For her he was +ready to kill, and not afraid to die. He loved her. And yet--she +was a mystery. He had held her in his arms, had felt her heart +beating against his breast, had kissed her lips and her eyes and +her hair, and her response had been to place herself utterly +within the shelter of his arms. She had given herself to him and +he was possessed of the strength of one about to fight for his +own. And with that strength the questions pounded again in his +head. Who was she? And for what reason were mysterious enemies +coming after her through the gray dawn? + +In that moment he heard a sound. His heart stood suddenly still. +He held his breath. It was a sound almost indistinguishable from +the whisper of the air and the trees and yet it smote upon his +senses like the detonation of a thunder-clap. It was more of a +PRESENCE than a sound. The trail was clear. He could see to the +far side of the open now, and there was no movement. He turned his +head--slowly and without movement of his body, and in that instant +a gasp rose to his lips, and died there. Scarcely a dozen paces +from him stood a poised and hooded figure, a squat, fire-eyed +apparition that looked more like monster than man in that first +glance. Something acted within him that was swifter than reason--a +sub-conscious instinct that works for self-preservation like the +flash of powder in a pan. It was this sub-conscious self that +received the first photographic impression--the strange poise of +the hooded creature, the uplifted arm, the cold, streaky gleam of +something in the dawn-light, and in response to that impression +Philip's physical self crumpled down in the snow as a javelin +hissed through the space where his head and shoulders had been. + +So infinitesimal was the space of time between the throwing of the +javelin and Philip's movement that the Eskimo believed he had +transfixed his victim. A scream of triumph rose in his throat. It +was the Kogmollock sakootwow--the blood-cry, a single shriek that +split the air for a mile. It died in another sort of cry. From +where he had dropped Philip was up like a shot. His club swung +through the air and before the amazed hooded creature could dart +either to one side or the other it had fallen with crushing force. +That one blow must have smashed his shoulder to a pulp. As the +body lurched downward another blow caught the hooded head squarely +and the beginning of a second cry ended in a sickening grunt. The +force of the blow carried Philip half off his feet, and before he +could recover himself two other figures had rushed upon him from +out of the gloom. Their cries as they came at him were like the +cries of beasts. Philip had no time to use his club. From his +unbalanced position he flung himself upward and at the nearest of +his enemies, saving himself from the upraised javelin by +clinching. His fist shot out and caught the Eskimo squarely in the +mouth. He struck again--and the javelin dropped from the +Kogmollock's hand. In that moment, every vein in his body pounding +with the rage and excitement of battle, Philip let out a yell. The +end of it was stifled by a pair of furry arms. His head snapped +back--and he was down. + +A thrill of horror shot through him. It was the one unconquerable +fighting trick of the Eskimos--that neck hold. Caught from behind +there was no escape from it. It was the age-old sasaki-wechikun, +or sacrifice-hold, an inheritance that came down from father to +son--the Arctic jiu-jitsu by which one Kogmollock holds the victim +helpless while a second cuts out his heart. Flat on his back, with +his head and shoulders bent under him, Philip lay still for a +single instant. He heard the shrill command of the Eskimo over +him--an exhortation for the other to hurry up with the knife. And +then, even as he heard a grunting reply, his hand came in contact +with the pocket which held Celie's little revolver. He drew it +quickly, cocked it under his back, and twisting his arm until the +elbow-joint cracked, he fired. It was a chance shot. The powder- +flash burned the murderous, thick-lipped face in the sealskin +hood. There was no cry, no sound that Philip heard. But the arms +relaxed about his neck. He rolled over and sprang to his feet. +Three or four paces from him was the Eskimo he had struck, +crawling toward him on his hands and knees, still dazed by the +blows he had received. In the snow Philip saw his club. He picked +it up and replaced the revolver in his pocket. A single blow as +the groggy Eskimo staggered to his feet and the fight was over. + +It had taken perhaps three or four minutes--no longer than that. +His enemies lay in three dark and motionless heaps in the snow. +Fate had played a strong hand with him. Almost by a miracle he had +escaped and at least two of the Eskimos were dead. + +He was still watchful, still guarding against a further attack, +and suddenly he whirled to face a figure that brought from him a +cry of astonishment and alarm. It was Celie. She was standing ten +paces from him, and in the wild terror that had brought her to him +she had left the bearskin behind. Her naked feet were buried in +the snow. Her arms, partly bared, were reaching out to him in the +gray Arctic dawn, and then wildly and moaningly there came to him-- + +"Philip--Philip--" + +He sprang to her, a choking cry on his own lips. This, after all, +was the last proof--when she had thought that their enemies were +killing him SHE HAD COME TO HIM. He was sobbing her name like a +boy as he ran back with her in his arms. Almost fiercely he +wrapped the bearskin about her again, and then crushed her so +closely in his arms that he could hear her gasping faintly for +breath. In that wild and glorious moment he listened. A cold and +leaden day was breaking over the world and as they listened their +hearts throbbing against each other, the same sound came to them +both. + +It was the sakootwow--the savage, shrieking blood-cry of the +Kogmollocks, a scream that demanded an answer of the three hooded +creatures who, a few minutes before, had attacked Philip in the +edge of the open. The cry came from perhaps a mile away. And then, +faintly, it was answered far to the west. For a moment Philip +pressed his face down to Celie's. In his heart was a prayer, for +he knew that the fight had only begun. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + + + +That the Eskimos both to the east and the west were more than +likely to come their way, converging toward the central cry that +was now silent, Philip was sure. In the brief interval in which he +had to act he determined to make use of his fallen enemies. This +he impressed on Celie's alert mind before he ran back to the scene +of the fight. He made no more than a swift observation of the +field in these first moments--did not even look for weapons. His +thought was entirely of Celie. The smallest of the three forms on +the snow was the Kogmollock he had struck down with his club. He +dropped on his knees and took off first the sealskin bashlyk, or +hood. Then he began stripping the dead man of his other garments. +From the fur coat to the caribou-skin moccasins they were +comparatively new. With them in his arms he hurried back to the +girl. + +It was not a time for fine distinctions. The clothes were a +godsend, though they had come from a dead man's back, and an +Eskimo's at that. Celie's eyes shone with joy. It amazed him more +than ever to see how unafraid she was in this hour of great +danger. She was busy with the clothes almost before his back was +turned. + +He returned to the Eskimos. The three were dead. It made him +shudder--one with a tiny bullet hole squarely between the eyes, +and the others crushed by the blows of the club. His hand fondled +Celie's little revolver--the pea-shooter he had laughed at. After +all it had saved his life. And the club-- + +He did not examine too closely there. From the man he had struck +with his naked fist he outfitted himself with a hood and temiak, +or coat. In the temiak there were no pockets, but at the waist of +each of the dead men a narwhal skin pouch which answered for all +pockets. He tossed the three pouches in a little heap on the snow +before he searched for weapons. He found two knives and half a +dozen of the murderous little javelins. One of the knives was +still clutched in the hand of the Eskimo who was creeping up to +disembowel him when Celie's revolver saved him. He took this knife +because it was longer and sharper than the other. + +On his knees he began to examine the contents of the three +pouches. In each was the inevitable roll of babiche, or caribou- +skin cord, and a second and smaller waterproof narwhal bag in +which were the Kogmollock fire materials. There was no food. This +fact was evident proof that the Eskimos were in camp somewhere in +the vicinity. He had finished his investigation of the pouches +when, looking up from his kneeling posture, he saw Celie +approaching. + +In spite of the grimness of the situation he could not repress a +smile as he rose to greet her. At fifty paces, even with her face +toward him, one would easily make the error of mistaking her for +an Eskimo, as the sealskin bashlyk was so large that it almost +entirely concealed her face except when one was very close to her. +Philip's first assistance was to roll back the front of the hood. +Then he pulled her thick braid out from under the coat and loosed +the shining glory of her hair until it enveloped her in a +wonderful shimmering mantle. Their enemies could not mistake her +for a man NOW, even at a hundred yards. If they ran into an +ambuscade she would at least be saved from the javelins. + +Celie scarcely realized what he was doing. She was staring at the +dead men--silent proof of the deadly menace that had threatened +them and of the terrific fight Philip must have made. A strange +note rose in her throat, and turning toward him suddenly she flung +herself into his arms. Her own arms encircled his neck, and for a +space she lay shudderingly against his breast, as if sobbing. How +many times he kissed her in those moments Philip could not have +told. It must have been a great many. He knew only that her arms +were clinging tighter and tighter about his neck, and that she was +whispering his name, and that his hands were buried in her soft +hair. He forgot time, forgot the possible cost of precious seconds +lost. It was a small thing that recalled him to his senses. From +out of a spruce top a handful of snow fell on his shoulder. It +startled him like the touch of a strange hand, and in another +moment he was explaining swiftly to Celie that there were other +enemies near and that they must lose no time in flight. + +He fastened one of the pouches at his waist, picked up his club, +and--on second thought--one of the Kogmollock javelins. He had no +very definite idea of how he might use the latter weapon, as it +was too slender to be of much avail as a spear at close quarters. +At a dozen paces he might possibly throw it with some degree of +accuracy. In a Kogmollock's hand it was a deadly weapon at a +hundred paces. With the determination to be at his side when the +next fight came Celie possessed herself of a second javelin. With +her hand in his Philip set out then due north through the forest. + +It was in that direction he knew the cabin must lay. After +striking the edge of the timber after crossing the Barren Bram +Johnson had turned almost directly south, and as he remembered the +last lap of the journey Philip was confident that not more than +eight or ten miles had separated the two cabins. He regretted now +his carelessness in not watching Brain's trail more closely in +that last hour or two. His chief hope of finding the cabin was in +the discovery of some landmark at the edge of the Barren. He +recalled distinctly where they had turned into the forest, and in +less than half an hour after that they had come upon the first +cabin. + +Their immediate necessity was not so much the finding of the cabin +as escape from the Eskimos. Within half an hour, perhaps even +less, he believed that other eyes would know of the fight at the +edge of the open. It was inevitable. If the Kogmollocks on either +side of them struck the trail before it reached the open they +would very soon run upon the dead, and if they came upon +footprints in the snow this side of the open they would back-trail +swiftly to learn the source and meaning of the cry of triumph that +had not repeated itself. Celie's little feet, clad in moccasins +twice too big for her, dragged in the snow in a way that would +leave no doubt in the Eskimo mind. As Philip saw the situation +there was one chance for them, and only one. They could not escape +by means of strategy. They could not hide from their pursuers. +Hope depended entirely upon the number of their enemies. If there +were only three or four of them left they would not attack in the +open. In that event he must watch for ambuscade, and dread the +night. He looked down at Celie, buried in her furry coat and hood +and plodding along courageously at his side with her hand in his. +This was not a time in which to question him, and she was obeying +his guidance with the faith of a child. It was tremendous, he +thought--the most wonderful moment that had ever entered into his +life. It is this dependence, this sublime faith and confidence in +him of the woman he loves that gives to a man the strength of a +giant in the face of a great crisis and makes him put up a tiger's +fight for her. For such a woman a man must win. And then Philip +noticed how tightly Celie's other hand was gripping the javelin +with which she had armed herself. She was ready to fight, too. The +thrill of it all made him laugh, and her eyes shot up to him +suddenly, filled with a moment's wonder that he should be laughing +now. She must have understood, for the big hood hid her face again +almost instantly, and her fingers tightened the smallest bit about +his. + +For a matter of a quarter of an hour they traveled as swiftly as +Celie could walk. Philip was confident that the Eskimo whose cries +they had heard would strike directly for the point whence the +first cry had come, and it was his purpose to cover as much +distance as possible in the first few minutes that their enemies +might be behind them. It was easier to watch the back trail than +to guard against ambuscades ahead. Twice in that time he stopped +where they would be unseen and looked back, and in advancing he +picked out the thinnest timber and evaded whatever might have +afforded a hiding place to a javelin-thrower. They had progressed +another half mile when suddenly they came upon a snowshoe trail in +the snow. + +It had crossed at right angles to their own course, and as Philip +bent over it a sudden lump rose into his throat. The other Eskimos +had not worn snowshoes. That in itself had not surprised him, for +the snow was hard and easily traveled in moccasins. The fact that +amazed him now was that the trail under his eyes had not been made +by Eskimo usamuks. The tracks were long and narrow. The web +imprint in the snow was not that of the broad narwhal strip, but +the finer mesh of babiche. It was possible that an Eskimo was +wearing them, but they were A WHITE MAN'S SHOES! + +And then he made another discovery. For a dozen paces he followed +in the trail, allowing six inches with each step he took as the +snowshoe handicap. Even at that he could not easily cover the +tracks. The man who had made them had taken a longer snowshoe +stride than his own by at least nine inches. He could no longer +keep the excitement of his discovery from Celie. + +"The Eskimo never lived who could make that track," he exclaimed. +"They can travel fast enough but they're a bunch of runts when it +comes to leg-swing. It's a white man--or Bram!" + +The announcement of the wolf-man's name and Philip's gesture +toward the trail drew a quick little cry of understanding from +Celie. In a flash she had darted to the snowshoe tracks and was +examining them with eager intensity. Then she looked up and shook +her head. It wasn't Bram! She pointed to the tail of the shoe and +catching up a twig broke it under Philip's eyes. He remembered +now. The end of Bram's shoes was snubbed short off. There was no +evidence of that defect in the snow. It was not Bram who had +passed that way. + +For a space he stood undecided. He knew that Celie was watching +him--that she was trying to learn something of the tremendous +significance of that moment from his face. The same unseen force +that had compelled him to wait and watch for his foes a short time +before seemed urging him now to follow the strange snowshoe trail. +Enemy or friend the maker of those tracks would at least be armed. +The thought of what a rifle and a few cartridges would mean to him +and Celie now brought a low cry of decision from him. He turned +quickly to Celie. + +"He's going east--and we ought to go north to find the cabin," he +told her, pointing to the trail. "But we'll follow him. I want his +rifle. I want it more than anything else in this world, now that +I've got you. We'll follow--" + +If there had been a shadow of hesitation in his mind it was ended +in that moment. From behind them there came a strange hooting cry. +It was not a yell such as they had heard before. It was a booming +far-reaching note that had in it the intonation of a drum--a sound +that made one shiver because of its very strangeness. And then, +from farther west, it came-- + +"Hoom--Hoom--Ho-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m--" + +In the next half minute it seemed to Philip that the cry was +answered from half a dozen different quarters. Then again it came +from directly behind them. + +Celie uttered a little gasp as she clung to his hand again. She +understood as well as he. One of the Eskimos had discovered the +dead and their foes were gathering in behind them. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + + + +Before the last of the cries had died away Philip flung far to one +side of the trail the javelin he carried, and followed it up with +Celie's, impressing on her that every ounce of additional weight +meant a handicap for them now. After the javelins went his club. + +"It's going to be the biggest race I've ever run," he smiled at +her. "And we've got to win. If we don't--" + +Celie's eyes were aglow as she looked at him, He was splendidly +calm. There was no longer a trace of excitement in his face, and +he was smiling at her even as he picked her up suddenly in his +arms. The movement was so unexpected that she gave a little gasp. +Then she found herself borne swiftly over the trail. For a +distance of a hundred yards Philip ran with her before he placed +her on her feet again. In no better way could he have impressed on +her that they were partners in a race against death and that every +energy must be expended in that race. Scarcely had her feet +touched the snow than she was running at his side, her hand +clasped in his. Barely a second was lost. + +With the swift directness of the trained man-hunter Philip had +measured his chances of winning. The Eskimos, first of all, would +gather about their dead. After one or two formalities they would +join in a chattering council, all of which meant precious time for +them. The pursuit would be more or less cautious because of the +bullet hole in the Kogmollock's forehead. + +If it had been possible for Celie to ask him just what he expected +to gain by following the strange snowshoe trail he would have had +difficulty in answering. It was, like his single shot with Celie's +little revolver, a chance gamble against big odds. A number of +possibilities had suggested themselves to him. It even occurred to +him that the man who was hurrying toward the east might be a +member of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. Of one thing, +however, he was confident. The maker of the tracks would not be +armed with javelins. He would have a rifle. Friend or foe, he was +after that rifle. The trick was to catch sight of him at the +earliest possible moment. + +How much of a lead the stranger had was a matter at which he could +guess with considerable accuracy. The freshness of the trail was +only slightly dimmed by snow, which was ample proof that it had +been made at the very tail-end of the storm. He believed that it +was not more than an hour old. + +For a good two hundred yards Philip set a dog-trot pace for +Celie, who ran courageously at his side. At the end of that +distance he stopped. Celie was panting for breath. Her hood had +slipped back and her face was flushed like a wildflower by her +exertion. Her eyes shone like stars, and her lips were parted a +little. She was temptingly lovely, but again Philip lost not a +second of unnecessary time. He picked her up in his arms again and +continued the race. By using every ounce of his own strength and +endurance in this way he figured that their progress would be at +least a third faster than the Eskimos would follow. The important +question was how long he could keep up the pace. + +Against his breast Celie was beginning to understand his scheme as +plainly as if he had explained it to her in words. At the end of +the fourth hundred yards she let him know that she was ready to +run another lap. He carried her on fifty yards more before he +placed her on her feet. In this way they had gone three-quarters +of a mile when the trail turned abruptly from its easterly course +to a point of the compass due north. So sharp was the turn that +Philip paused to investigate the sudden change in direction. The +stranger had evidently stood for several minutes at this point, +which was close to the blasted stub of a dead spruce. In the snow +Philip observed for the first time a number of dark brown spots. + +"Here is where he took a new bearing--and a chew of tobacco," said +Philip, more to himself than to Celie. "And there's no snow in his +tracks. By George, I don't believe he's got more than half an +hour's start of us this minute!" + +It was his turn to carry Celie again, and in spite of her protest +that she was still good for another run he resumed their pursuit +of the stranger with her in his arms. By her quick breathing and +the bit of tenseness that had gathered about her mouth he knew +that the exertion she had already been put to was having its +effect on her. For her little feet and slender body the big +moccasins and cumbersome fur garments she wore were a burden in +themselves, even at a walk. He found that by holding her higher in +his arms, with her own arms encircling his shoulders, it was +easier to run with her at the pace he had set for himself. And +when he held her in this way her hair covered his breast and +shoulders so that now and then his face was smothered in the +velvety sweetness of it. The caress of it and the thrill of her +arms about him spurred him on. Once he made three hundred yards. +But he was gulping for breath when he stopped. That time Celie +compelled him to let her run a little farther, and when they +paused she was swaying on her feet, and panting. He carried her +only a hundred and fifty yards in the interval after that. Both +realized what it meant. The pace was telling on them. The strain +of it was in Celie's eyes. The flower-like flush of her first +exertion was gone from her face. It was pale and a little haggard, +and in Philip's face she saw the beginning of the things which she +did not realize was betraying itself so plainly in her own. She +put her hands up to his cheeks, and smiled. It was tremendous-- +that moment;--her courage, her splendid pride in him, her manner +of telling him that she was not afraid as her little hands lay +against his face. For the first time he gave way to his desire to +hold her close to him, and kiss the sweet mouth she held up to his +as her head nestled on his breast. + +After a moment or two he looked at his watch. Since striking the +strange trail they had traveled forty minutes. In that tine they +had covered at least three miles, and were a good four miles from +the scene of the fight. It was a big start. The Eskimos were +undoubtedly a half that distance behind them, and the stranger +whom they were following could not be far ahead. + +They went on at a walk. For the third time they came to a point in +the trail where the stranger had stopped to make observations. It +was apparent to Philip that the man he was after was not quite +sure of himself. Yet he did not hesitate in the course due north. + +For half an hour they continued in that direction. Not for an +instant now did Philip allow; his caution to lag. Eyes and ears +were alert for sound or movement either behind or ahead of them, +and more and more frequently he turned to scan the back trail. +They were at least five miles from the edge of the open where the +fight had occurred when they came to the foot of a ridge, and +Philip's heart gave a sudden thump of hope. He remembered that +ridge. It was a curiously formed "hog-back"--like a great windrow +of snow piled up and frozen. Probably it was miles in length. +Somewhere he and Bram had crossed it soon after passing the first +cabin. He had not tried to tell Celie of this cabin. Time had been +too precious. But now, in the short interval of rest he allowed +themselves, he drew a picture of it in the snow and made her +understand that it was somewhere close to the ridge and that it +looked as though the stranger was making for it. He half carried +Celie up the ridge after that. She could not hide from him that +her feet were dragging even at a walk. Exhaustion showed in her +face, and once when she tried to speak to him her voice broke in a +little gasping sob. On the far side of the ridge he took her in +his arms and carried her again. + +"It can't be much farther," he encouraged her. "We've got to +overtake him pretty soon, dear. Mighty soon." Her hand pressed +gently against his cheek, and he swallowed a thickness that in +spite of his effort gathered in his throat. During that last half +hour a different look had come into her eyes. It was there now as +she lay limply with her head on his breast--a look of unutterable +tenderness, and of something else. It was that which brought the +thickness into his throat. It was not fear. It was the soft glow +of a great love--and of understanding. She knew that even he was +almost at the end of his fight. His endurance was giving out. One +of two things must happen very soon. She continued to stroke his +cheek gently until he placed her on her feet again, and then she +held one of his hands close to her breast as they looked behind +them, and listened. He could feel the soft throbbing of her heart. +If he needed greater courage then it was given to him. + +They went on. And then, so suddenly that it brought a stifled cry +from the girl's lips, they came upon the cabin. It was not a +hundred yards from them when they first saw it. It was no longer +abandoned. A thin spiral of smoke was rising from the chimney. +There was no sign of life other than that. + +For half a minute Philip stared at it. Here, at last, was the +final hope. Life or death, all that the world might hold for him +and the girl at his side, was in that cabin. Gently he drew her so +that she would be unseen. And then, still looking at the cabin, he +drew off his coat and dropped it in the snow. It was the +preparation of a man about to fight. The look of it was in his +face and the stiffening of his muscles, and when he turned to his +little companion she was as white as the snow under her feet. + +"We're in time," he breathed. "You--you stay here." + +She understood. Her hands clutched at him as he left her. A gulp +rose in her throat. She wanted to call out. She wanted to hold him +back--or go with him. Yet she obeyed. She stood with a heart that +choked her and watched him go. For she knew, after all, that it +was the thing to do. Sobbingly she breathed his name. It was a +prayer. For she knew what would happen in the cabin. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + + + +Philip came up behind the windowless end of the cabin. He noticed +in passing with Bram that on the opposite side was a trap-window +of saplings, and toward this he moved swiftly but with caution. It +was still closed when he came where he could see. But with his ear +close to the chinks he heard a sound--the movement of some one +inside. For an instant he looked over his shoulder. Celia was +standing where he had left her. He could almost feel the terrible +suspense that was in her eyes as she watched him. + +He moved around toward the door. There was in him an intense +desire to have it over with quickly. His pulse quickened as the +thought grew in him that the maker of the strange snowshoe trail +might be a friend after all. But how was he to discover that fact? +He had decided to take no chances in the matter. Ten seconds of +misplaced faith in the stranger might prove fatal. Once he held a +gun in his hands he would be in a position to wait for +introductions and explanations. But until then, with their Eskimo +enemies close at their heels-- + +His mind did not finish that final argument. The end of it smashed +upon him in another way. The door came within his vision. As it +swung inward he could not at first see whether it was open or +closed. Leaning against the logs close to the door was a pair of +long snowshoes and a bundle of javelins. A sickening +disappointment swept over him as he stared at the javelins. A +giant Eskimo and not a white man had made the trail they had +followed. Their race against time had brought them straight to the +rendezvous of their foes--and there would be no guns. In that +moment when all the hopes he had built up seemed slipping away +from under him he could see no other possible significance in the +presence of the javelins. Then, for an instant, he held his breath +and sniffed the air like a dog getting the wind. The cabin door +was open. And out through that door came the mingling aroma of +coffee and tobacco! An Eskimo might have tobacco, or even tea. But +coffee--never! + +Every drop of blood in his body pounded like tiny beating fists as +he crossed silently and swiftly the short space between the corner +of the cabin and the open door. For perhaps half a dozen seconds +he closed his eyes to give his snow-strained vision an even +chance with the man in the cabin. Then he looked in. + +It was a small cabin. It was possibly not more than ten feet +square inside, and at the far end of it was a fireplace from which +rose the chimney through the roof. At first Philip saw nothing +except the dim outlines of things. It was a moment or two before +he made out the figure of a man stooping over the fire. He stepped +over the threshold, making no sound. The occupant of the cabin +straightened himself slowly, lifting with, extreme care a pot of +coffee from the embers. A glance at his broad back and his giant +stature told Philip that he was not an Eskimo. He turned. Even +then for an infinitesimal space he did not see Philip as he stood +fronting the door with the light in his face. It was a white man's +face--a face almost hidden in a thick growth of beard and a tangle +of hair that fell to the shoulders. Another instant and he had +seen the intruder and stood like one turned suddenly into stone. + +Philip had leveled Celie's little revolver. + +"I am Philip Raine of His Majesty's service, the Royal Mounted," +he said. "Throw, up your hands!" + +The moment's tableau was one of rigid amazement on one side, of +waiting tenseness on the other. Philip believed that the shadow of +his body concealed the size of the tiny revolver in his hand. +Anyway it would be effective at that distance, and he expected to +see the mysterious stranger's hands go over his head the moment he +recovered from the shock that had apparently gone with the +command. What did happen he expected least of all. The arm holding +the pot of steaming coffee shot out and the boiling deluge hissed +straight at Philip's face. He ducked to escape it, and fired. +Before he could throw back the hammer of the little single-action +weapon for a second shot the stranger was at him. The force of the +attack sent them both crashing back against the wall of the cabin, +and in the few moments that followed Philip blessed the +providential forethought that had made him throw off his fur coat +and strip for action. His antagonist was not an ordinary man. A +growl like that of a beast rose in his throat as they went to the +floor, and in that death-grip Philip thought of Bram. + +More than once in watching the wolf-man he had planned how he +would pit himself against the giant if it came to a fight, and how +he would evade the close arm-to-arm grapple that would mean defeat +for him. And this man was Bram's equal in size and strength. He +realized with the swift judgment of the trained boxer that open +fighting and the evasion of the other's crushing brute strength +was his one hope. On his knees he flung himself backward, and +struck out. The blow caught his antagonist squarely in the face +before he had succeeded in getting a firm clinch, and as he bent +backward under the force of the blow Philip exerted every ounce of +his strength, broke the other's hold, and sprang to his feet. + +He felt like uttering a shout of triumph. Never had the thrill of +mastery and of confidence surged through him more hotly than it +did now. On his feet in open fighting he had the agility of a cat. +The stranger was scarcely on his feet before he was at him with a +straight shoulder blow that landed on the giant's jaw with +crushing force. It would have put an ordinary man down in a limp +heap. The other's weight saved him. A second blow sent him reeling +against the log wall like a sack of grain. And then in the half- +gloom of the cabin Philip missed. He put all his effort in that +third blow and as his clenched fist shot over the other's shoulder +he was carried off his balance and found himself again in the +clutch of his enemy's arms. This time a huge hand found his +throat. The other he blocked with his left arm, while with his +right he drove in short-arm jabs against neck and jaw. Their +ineffectiveness amazed him. His guard-arm was broken upward, and +to escape the certain result of two hands gripping at his throat +he took a sudden foot-lock on his adversary, flung all his weight +forward, and again they went to the floor of the cabin. + +Neither caught a glimpse of the girl standing wide-eyed and +terrified in the door. They rolled almost to her feet. Full in the +light she saw the battered, bleeding face of the strange giant, +and Philip's fist striking it again and again. Then she saw the +giant's two hands, and why he was suffering that punishment. They +were at Philip's throat--huge hairy hands stained with his own +blood. A cry rose to her lips and the blue in her eyes darkened +with the fighting fire of her ancestors. She darted across the +room to the fire. In an instant she was back with a stick of wood +in her hands. Philip saw her then--her streaming hair and white +face above them, and the club fell. The hands at his throat +relaxed. He swayed to his feet and with dazed eyes and a weird +sort of laugh opened his arms. Celie ran into them. He felt her +sobbing and panting against him. Then, looking down, he saw that +for the present the man who had made the strange snowshoe trail +was as good as dead. + +The air he was taking into his half strangled lungs cleared his +head and he drew away from Celie to begin the search of the room. +His eyes were more accustomed to the gloom, and suddenly he gave a +cry of exultation. Against the end of the mud and stone fireplace +stood a rifle and over the muzzle of this hung a belt and holster. +In the holster was a revolver. In his excitement and joy his +breath was almost a sob as he snatched it from the holster and +broke it in the light of the door. It was a big Colt Forty-five-- +and loaded to the brim. He showed it to Celie, and thrust her to +the door. + +"Watch!" he cried, sweeping his arm to the open. "Just two minutes +more. That's all I want--two minutes--and then--" + +He was counting the cartridges in the belt as he fastened it about +his waist. There were at least forty, two-thirds of them soft- +nosed rifle. The caliber was .303 and the gun was a Savage. It was +modern up to the minute, and as he threw down the lever enough to +let him glimpse inside the breech he caught the glisten of +cartridges ready for action. He wanted nothing more. The cabin +might have held his weight in gold and he would not have turned +toward it. + +With the rifle in his hands he ran past Celie out into the day. +For the moment the excitement pounding in his body had got beyond +his power of control. His brain was running riot with the joyous +knowledge of the might that lay in his hands now and he felt an +overmastering desire to shout his triumph in the face of their +enemies. + +"Come on, you devils! Come on, come on," he cried. And then, +powerless to restrain what was in him, he let out a yell. + +From the door Celie was staring at him. A few moments before her +face had been dead white. Now a blaze of color was surging back +into her cheeks and lips and her eyes shone with the glory of one +who was looking on more than triumph. From her own heart welled up +a cry, a revelation of that wonderful thing throbbing in her +breast which must have reached Philip's ears had there not in that +same instant come another sound to startle them both into +listening silence. + +It was not far distant. And it was unmistakably an answer to +Philip's challenge. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + + + +As they listened the cry came again. This time Philip caught in it +a note that he had not detected before. It was not a challenge but +the long-drawn ma-too-ee of an Eskimo who answers the inquiring +hail of a comrade. + +"He thinks it is the man in the cabin," exclaimed Philip, turning +to survey the fringe of forest through which their trail had come. +"If the others don't warn him there's going to be one less Eskimo +on earth in less than three minutes!" + +Another sound had drawn Celie back to the door. "When she looked +in the man she had stunned with the club was moving. Her call +brought Philip, and placing her in the open door to keep watch he +set swiftly to work to make sure of their prisoner. With the +babiche thong he had taken from his enemies he bound him hand and +foot. A shaft of light fell full on the giant's face and naked +chest where it had been laid bare in the struggle and Philip was +about to rise when a purplish patch, of tattooing caught his eyes. +He made out first the crude picture of a shark with huge gaping +jaws struggling under the weight of a ship's anchor, and then, +directly under this pigment colored tatu, the almost invisible +letters of a name. He made them out one by one--B-l-a-k-e. Before +the surname was the letter G. + +"Blake," he repeated, rising to his feet. "GEORGE Blake--a sailor +--and a white man!" + +Blake, returning to consciousness, mumbled incoherently. In the +same instant Celie cried out excitedly at the door. + +"Oo-ee, Philip--Philip! Se det! Se! Se!" + +She drew back with, a sudden movement and pointed out the door. +Concealing himself as much as possible from outside observation +Philip peered forth. Not more than a hundred and fifty yards away +a dog team was approaching. There were eight dogs and instantly he +recognized them as the small fox-faced Eskimo breed from the +coast. They were dragging a heavily laden sledge and behind them +came the driver, a furred and hooded figure squat of stature and +with a voice that came now in the sharp clacking commands that +Philip had heard in the company of Bram Johnson. From the floor +came a groan, and for an instant Philip turned to find Blake's +bloodshot eyes wide open and staring at him. The giant's bleeding +lips were gathered in a snarl and he was straining at the babiche +thongs that bound him. In that same moment Philip caught a glimpse +of Celie. She, too, was staring--and at Blake. Her lips were +parted, her eyes were big with amazement and as she looked she +clutched her hands convulsively at her breast and uttered a low, +strange cry. For the first time she saw Blake's face with the +light full upon it. At the sound of her cry Blake's eyes went to +her, and for the space of a second the imprisoned beast on the +floor and the girl looking down on him made up a tableau that held +Philip spellbound. Between them was recognition--an amazed and +stone like horror on the girl's part, a sudden and growing glare +of bestial exultation in the eyes of the man. + +Suddenly there came the Eskimo's voice and the yapping of dogs. It +was the first Blake had heard. He swung his head toward the door +with a great gasp and the babiche cut like whipcord under the +strain of his muscles. Swift as a flash Philip thrust the muzzle +of the big Colt against his prisoner's head. + +"Make a sound and you're a dead man, Blake!" he warned. "We need +that team, and if you so much as whisper during the next ten +seconds I'll scatter your brains over the floor!" + +They could hear the cold creak of the sledge-runners now, and a +moment later the patter of many feet outside the door. In a single +leap Philip was at the door. Another and he was outside, and an +amazed Eskimo was looking into the round black eye of his +revolver. It required no common language to make him understand +what was required of him. He backed into the cabin with the +revolver within two feet of his breast. Celie had caught up the +rifle and was standing guard over Blake as though fearful that he +might snap his bonds. Philip laughed joyously when he saw how +quickly she understood that she was to level the rifle at the +Kogmollock's breast and hold it there until he had made him a +prisoner. She was wonderful. She was panting in her excitement. +From the floor Blake had noticed that her little white finger was +pressing gently against the trigger of the rifle. It had made him +shudder. It made the Eskimo cringe a bit now as Philip tied his +hands behind him. And Philip saw it, and his heart thumped. Celie +was gloriously careless. + +It was over inside of two minutes, and with an audible sigh of +relief she lowered her rifle. Then she leaned it against the wall +and ran to Blake. She was tremendously excited as she pointed down +into the bloodstained face and tried to explain to Philip the +reason for that strange and thrilling recognition he had seen +between them. From her he looked at Blake. The look in the +prisoner's face sent a cold shiver through him. There was no fear +in it. It was filled with a deep and undisguised exultation. Then +Blake looked at Philip, and laughed outright. + +"Can't understand her, eh?" he chuckled. "Well, neither can I. But +I know what she's trying to tell you. Damned funny, ain't it?" + +It was impossible for him to keep his eyes from shifting to the +door. There was expectancy in that glance. Then his glance shot +almost fiercely at Philip. + +"So you're Philip Raine, of the R. N. M. P., eh? Well, you've got +me guessed out. My name is Blake, but the G don't stand for +George. If you'll cut the cord off'n my legs so I can stand up or +sit down I'll tell you something. I can't do very much damage with +my hands hitched the way they are, and I can't talk layin' down +cause of my Adam's apple chokin' me." + +Philip seized the rifle and placed it again in Celie's hands, +stationing her once more at the door. + +"Watch--and listen," he said. + +He cut the thongs that bound his prisoner's ankles and Blake +struggled to his feet. When he fronted Philip the big Colt was +covering his heart. + +"Now--talk!" commanded Philip. "I'm going to give you half a +minute to begin telling me what I want to know, Blake. You've +brought the Eskimos down. There's no doubt of that. What do you +want of this girl, and what have you done with her people?" + +He had never looked into the eyes of a cooler man than Blake, +whose blood-stained lips curled in a sneering smile even as he +finished. + +"I ain't built to be frightened," he said, taking his time about +it. "I know your little games an' I've throwed a good many bluffs +of my own in my time. You're lyin' when you say you'll shoot, an' +you know you are. I may talk and I may not. Before I make up my +mind I'm going to give you a bit of brotherly advice. Take that +team out there and hit across the Barren--ALONE. Understand? +ALONE. Leave the girl here. It's your one chance of missing what +happened to--" + +He grinned and shrugged his huge shoulders. + +"You mean Anderson--Olaf Anderson--and the others up at Bathurst +Inlet?" questioned Philip chokingly. + +Blake nodded. + +Philip wondered if the other could hear the pounding of his heart. +He had discovered in this moment what the Department had been +trying to learn for two years. It was this man--Blake--who was +the mysterious white leader of the Kogmollocks, and responsible +for the growing criminal record of the natives along Coronation +Gulf. And he had just confessed himself the murderer of Olaf +Anderson! His finger trembled for an instant against the trigger +of his revolver. Then, staring into Blake's face, he slowly +lowered the weapon until it hung at his side. Blake's eyes gleamed +as he saw what he thought was his triumph. + +"IT'S your one chance," he urged. "And there ain't no time to +lose." + +Philip had judged his man, and now he prayed for the precious +minutes in which to play out his game. The Kogmollocks who had +taken up their trail could not be far from the cabin now. + +"Maybe you're right, Blake," he said hesitatingly. "I think, after +her experience with Bram Johnson that she is about willing to +return to her father. Where is he?" + +Blake made no effort to disguise his eagerness. In the droop of +Philip's shoulder, the laxness of the hand that held the revolver +and the change in his voice Blake saw in his captor an apparent +desire to get out of the mess he was in. A glimpse of Celie's +frightened face turned for an instant from the door gave weight to +his conviction. + +"He's down the Coppermine--about a hundred miles. So, Bram +Johnson--" + +His eyes were a sudden blaze of fire. + +"Took care of her until your little rats waylaid him on the trail +and murdered him," interrupted Philip. "See here, Blake. You be +square with me and I'll be square with you. I haven't been able to +understand a word of her lingo and I'm curious to know a thing or +two before I go. Tell me who she is, and why you haven't killed +her father, and what you're going to do with her and I won't waste +another minute." + +Blake leaned forward until Philip felt the heat of his breath. + +"What do I WANT of her?" he demanded slowly. "Why, if you'd been +five years without sight of a white woman, an' then you woke up +one morning to meet an angel like HER on the trail two thousand +miles up in nowhere what would you want of her? I was stunned, +plumb stunned, or I'd had her then. And after that, if it hadn't +been for that devil with his wolves--" + +"Bram ran away with her just as you were about to get her into +your hands," supplied Philip, fighting to save time. "She didn't +even know that you wanted her, Blake, so far as I can find out. +It's all a mystery to her. I don't believe she's guessed the truth +even now. How the devil did you do it? Playing the friend stunt, +eh! And keeping yourself in the background while your Kogmollocks +did the work? Was that it?" + +Blake nodded. His face was darkening as he looked at Philip and +the light in his eyes was changing to a deep and steady glare. In +that moment Philip had failed to keep the exultation out of his +voice. It shone in his face. And Blake saw it. A throaty sound +rose out of his thick chest and his lips parted in a snarl as +there surged through him a realization that he had been tricked. + +In that interval Philip spoke. + +"If I never sent up a real prayer to God before I'm sending it +now, Blake," he said. "I'm thanking Him that you didn't have time +to harm Celie Armin, an' I'm thanking Him that Bram Johnson had a +soul in his body in spite of his warped brain and his misshapen +carcass. And now I'm going to keep my word. I'm not going to lose +another minute. Come!" + +"You--you mean--" + +"No, you haven't guessed it. We're not going over the Barren. +We're going back to that cabin on the Coppermine, and you're going +with us. And listen to this, Blake--listen hard! There may be +fighting. If there is I want you to sort of harden yourself to the +fact that the first shot fired is going straight through your +gizzard. Do I make myself clear? I'll shoot you deader than a salt +mackerel the instant one of your little murderers shows up on the +trail. So tell this owl-faced heathen here to spread the glad +tidings when his brothers come in--and spread it good. Quick about +it! I'm not bluffing now." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + + + +In Philip's eyes Blake saw his match now. And more. For three- +quarters of a minute he talked swiftly to the Eskimo. Philip knew +that he was giving the Kogmollock definite instructions as to the +manner in which his rescue must be accomplished. But he knew also +that Blake would emphasize the fact that it must not be in open +attack, no matter how numerous his followers might be. + +He hurried Blake through the door to the sledge and team. The +sledge was heavily laden with the meat of a fresh caribou kill and +from the quantity of flesh he dragged off into the snow Philip +surmised that the cabin would very soon be the rendezvous of a +small army of Eskimo. There was probably a thousand pounds of it, +Retaining only a single quarter of this he made Celie comfortable +and turned his attention to Blake. With babiche cord he re-secured +his prisoner with the "manacle-hitch," which gave him free play of +one hand and arm--his left. Then he secured the Eskimo's whip and +gave it to Blake. + +"Now--drive!" he commanded. "Straight for the Coppermine, and by +the shortest cut. This is as much your race as mine now, Blake. +The moment I see a sign of anything wrong you're a dead man!" + +"And you--are a fool!" gritted Blake. "Good God, what a fool!" + +"Drive--and shut up!" + +Blake snapped his whip and gave a short, angry command in Eskimo. +The dogs sprang from their bellies to their feet and at another +command were off over the trail. From the door of the cabin the +Eskimo's little eyes shone with a watery eagerness as he watched +them go. Celie caught a last glimpse of him as she looked back and +her hands gripped more firmly the rifle which lay across her lap. +Philip had given her the rifle and it had piled upon her a mighty +responsibility. He had meant that she should use it if the +emergency called for action, and that she was to especially watch +Blake. Her eyes did not leave the outlaw's broad back as he ran on +a dozen paces ahead of the dogs. She was ready for him if he tried +to escape, and she would surely fire. Running close to her side +Philip observed the tight grip of her hands on the weapon, and saw +one little thumb pinched up against the safety ready for instant +action. He laughed, and for a moment she looked up at him, +flushing suddenly when she saw the adoration in his face. + +"Blake's right--I'm a fool," he cried down at her in a low voice +that thrilled with his worship of her. "I'm a fool for risking +you, sweetheart. By going the other way I'd have you forever. They +wouldn't follow far into the south, if at all. Mebby you don't +realize what we're doing by hitting back to that father of yours. +Do you?" + +She smiled. + +"And mebby when we get there we'll find him dead," he added. "Dead +or alive, everything is up to Blake now and you must help me watch +him." + +He pantomimed this caution by pointing to Blake and the rifle. +Then he dropped behind. Over the length of sledge and team he was +thirty paces from Blake. At that distance he could drop him with a +single shot from the Colt. + +They were following the trail already made by the meat-laden +sledge, and the direction was northwest. It was evident that Blake +was heading at least in the right direction and Philip believed +that it would be but a short time before they would strike the +Coppermine. Once on the frozen surface of the big stream that +flowed into the Arctic and their immediate peril of an ambuscade +would be over. Blake was surely aware of that. If he had in mind a +plan for escaping it must of necessity take form before they +reached the river. + +"Where the forest thinned out and the edge of the Barren crept in +Philip ran at Celie's side, but when the timber thickened and +possible hiding places for their enemies appeared in the trail +ahead he was always close to Blake, with the big Colt held openly +in his hand. At these times Celie watched the back trail. From her +vantage on the sledge her alert eyes took in every bush and +thicket to right and left of them, and when Philip was near or +behind her she was looking at least a rifle-shot ahead of Blake. +For three-quarters of an hour they had followed the single sledge +trail when Blake suddenly gave a command that stopped the dogs. +They had reached a crest which overlooked a narrow finger of the +treeless Barren on the far side of which, possibly a third of a +mile distant, was a dark fringe of spruce timber. Blake pointed +toward this timber. Out of it was rising a dark column of resinous +smoke. + +"It's up to you," he said coolly to Philip. "Our trail crosses +through that timber--and you see the smoke. I imagine there are +about twenty of Upi's men there feeding on caribou. The herd was +close beyond when they made the kill. Now if we go on they're most +likely to see us, or their dogs get wind of us--and Upi is a +bloodthirsty old cutthroat. I don't want that bullet through my +gizzard, so I'm tellin' you." + +Far back in Blake's eyes there lurked a gleam which Philip did not +like. Blake was not a man easily frightened, and yet he had given +what appeared to be fair warning to his enemy. + +He came a step nearer, and said in a lower voice: + +"Raine, that's just ONE of Upi's crowds. If you go on to the cabin +we're heading for there'll be two hundred fighting men after you +before the day is over, and they'll get you whether you kill me or +not. You've still got the chance I gave you back there. Take it-- +if you ain't tired of life. Give me the girl--an' you hit out +across the Barren with the team." + +"We're going on," replied Philip, meeting the other's gaze +steadily. "You know your little murderers, Blake. If any one can +get past them without being seen it's you. And you've got to do +it. I'll kill you if you don't. The Eskimos may get us after that, +but they won't harm HER in your way. Understand? We're going the +limit in this game. And I figure you're putting up the biggest +stake. I've got a funny sort of feeling that you're going to cash +in before we reach the cabin." + +For barely an instant the mysterious gleam far back in Blake's +eyes died out. There was the hard, low note in Philip's voice +which carried conviction and Blake knew he was ready to play the +hand which he held. With a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders he +stirred up the dogs with a crack of his whip and struck out at +their head due west. During the next half hour Philip's eyes and +ears were ceaselessly on the alert. He traveled close to Blake, +with the big Colt in his hand, watching every hummock and bit of +cover as they came to it. He also watched Blake and in the end was +convinced that in the back of the outlaw's head was a sinister +scheme in which he had the utmost confidence in spite of his +threats and the fact that they had successfully got around Upi's +camp. Once or twice when their eyes happened to meet he caught in +Blake's face a contemptuous coolness, almost a sneering exultation +which the other could not quite conceal. It filled him with a +scarcely definable uneasiness. He was positive that Blake realized +he would carry out his threat at the least sign of treachery or +the appearance of an enemy, and yet he could not free himself from +the uncomfortable oppression that was beginning to take hold of +him. He concealed it from Blake. He tried to fight it out of +himself. Yet it persisted. It was something which seemed to hover +in the air about him--the FEEL of a danger which he could not see. + +And then Blake suddenly pointed ahead over an open plain and said: + +"There is the Coppermine." + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + + + +A cry from Celie turned his gaze from the broad white trail of ice +that was the Coppermine, and as he looked she pointed eagerly +toward a huge pinnacle of rock that rose like an oddly placed +cenotaph out of the unbroken surface of the plain. + +Blake grunted out a laugh in his beard and his eyes lit up with an +unpleasant fire as they rested on her flushed face. + +"She's tellin' you that Bram Johnson brought her this way," he +chuckled. "Bram was a fool--like you!" + +He seemed not to expect a reply from Philip, but urged the dogs +down the slope into the plain. Fifteen minutes later they were on +the surface of the river. + +Philip drew a deep breath of relief, and he found that same relief +in Celie's face when he dropped back to her side. As far as they +could see ahead of them there was no forest. The Coppermine itself +seemed to be swallowed up in the vast white emptiness of the +Barren. There could be no surprise attack here, even at night. And +yet there was something in Blake's face which kept alive within +him the strange premonition of a near and unseen danger. Again and +again he tried to shake off the feeling. He argued with himself +against the unreasonableness of the thing that had begun to +oppress him. Blake was in his power. It was impossible for him to +escape, and the outlaw's life depended utterly upon his success in +getting them safely to the cabin. It was not conceivable to +suppose that Blake would sacrifice his life merely that they might +fall into the hands of the Eskimos. And yet-- + +He watched Blake--watched him more and more closely as they buried +themselves deeper in that unending chaos of the north. And Blake, +it seemed to him, was conscious of that increasing watchfulness. +He increased his speed. Now and then Philip heard a curious +chuckling sound smothered in his beard, and after an hour's travel +on the snow-covered ice of the river he could no longer dull his +vision to the fact that the farther they progressed into the open +country, the more confident Blake was becoming. He did not +question him. He realized the futility of attempting to force his +prisoner into conversation. In that respect it was Blake who held +the whip hand. He could lie or tell the truth, according to the +humor of his desire. Blake must have guessed this thought in +Philip's mind. They were traveling side by side when he suddenly +laughed. There was an unmistakable irony in his voice when he +said: + +"It's funny, Raine, that I should like you, ain't it? A man who's +mauled you, an' threatened to kill you! I guess it's because I'm +so cussed sorry for you. You're heading straight for the gates of +hell, an' they're open--wide open." + +"And you?" + +This time Blake's laugh was harsher. + +"I don't count--now," he said. "Since you've made up your mind not +to trade me the girl for your life I've sort of dropped out of the +game. I guess you're thinking I can hold Upi's tribe back. Well, I +can't--not when you're getting this far up in their country. If we +split the difference, and you gave me HER, Upi would meet me half +way. God, but you've spoiled a nice dream!" + +"A dream?" + +Blake uttered a command to the dogs. + +"Yes--more'n that. I've got an igloo up there even finer than +Upi's--all built of whalebone and ships' timbers. Think of HER in +that, Raine--with ME! That's the dream you smashed!" + +"And her father--and the others--" + +This time there was a ferocious undercurrent in Blake's guttural +laugh, as though Philip had by accident reminded him of something +that both amused and enraged him. + +"Don't you know how these Kogmollock heathen look on a father-in- +law?" he asked. "He's sort of walkin' delegate over the whole +bloomin' family. A god with two legs. The OTHERS? Why, we killed +them. But Upi and his heathen wouldn't see anything happen to the +old man when they found I was going to take the girl. That's why +he's alive up there in the cabin now. Lord, what a mess you're +heading into, Raine! And I'm wondering, after you kill me, and +they kill you, WHO'LL HAVE THE GIRL? There's a half-breed in the +tribe an' she'll probably go to him. The heathen themselves don't +give a flip for women, you know. So it's certain to be the half- +breed." + +He surged on ahead, cracking his whip, and crying out to the dogs. +Philip believed that in those few moments he had spoken much that +was truth. He had, without hesitation and of his own volition, +confessed the murder of the companions of Celie's father, and he +had explained in a reasonable way why Armin himself had been +spared. These facts alone increased his apprehension. Unless Blake +was utterly confident of the final outcome he would not so openly +expose himself. He was even more on his guard after this. + +For several hours after his brief fit of talking Blake made no +effort to resume the conversation nor any desire to answer Philip +when the latter spoke to him. A number of times it struck Philip +that he was going the pace that would tire out both man and beast +before night. He knew that in Blake's shaggy head there was a +brain keenly and dangerously alive, and he noted the extreme +effort he was making to cover distance with a satisfaction that +was not unmixed of suspicion. By three o'clock in the afternoon +they were thirty-five miles from the cabin in which Blake had +become a prisoner. All that distance they had traveled through a +treeless barren without a sign of life. It was between three and +four when they began to strike timber once more, and Philip asked +himself if it had been Blake's scheme to reach this timber before +dusk. In places the spruce and banskian pine thickened until they +formed dark walls of forest and whenever they approached these +patches Philip commanded Blake to take the middle of the river. +The width of the stream was a comforting protection. It was seldom +less than two hundred yards from shore to shore and frequently +twice that distance. From the possible ambuscades they passed only +a rifle could be used effectively, and whenever there appeared to +be the possibility of that danger Philip traveled close to Blake, +with the revolver in his hand. The crack of a rifle even if the +bullet should find its way home, meant Blake's life. Of that fact +the outlaw could no longer have a doubt. + +For an hour before the gray dusk of Arctic night began to gather +about them Philip began to feel the effect of their strenuous +pace. Hours of cramped inactivity on the sledge had brought into +Celie's face lines of exhaustion. Since middle-afternoon the dogs +had dragged at times in their traces. Now they were dead-tired. +Blake, and Blake alone, seemed tireless. It was six o'clock when +they entered a country that was mostly plain, with a thin fringe +of timber along the shores. They had raced for nine hours, and had +traveled fifty miles. It was here, in a wide reach of river, that +Philip gave the command to halt. + +His first caution was to secure Blake hand and foot, with his back +resting against a frozen snow-hummock a dozen paces from the +sledge. The outlaw accepted the situation with an indifference +which seemed to Philip more forced than philosophical. After that, +while Celie was walking back and forth to produce a warmer +circulation in her numbed body, he hurried to the scrub timber +that grew along the shore and returned with a small armful of dry +wood. The fire he built was small, and concealed as much as +possible by the sledge. Ten minutes sufficed to cook the meat for +their supper. Then he stamped out the fire, fed the dogs, and made +a comfortable nest of bear skins for himself and Celie, facing +Blake. The night had thickened until he could make out only dimly +the form of the outlaw against the snow-hummock. His revolver lay +ready at his side. + +In that darkness he drew Celie close up into his arms. Her head +lay on his breast. He buried his lips in the smothering sweetness +of her hair, and her arms crept gently about his neck. Even then +he did not take his eyes from Blake, nor for an instant did he +cease to listen for other sounds than the deep breathing of the +exhausted dogs. It was only a little while before the stars began +to fill the sky. The gloom lifted slowly, and out of darkness rose +the white world in a cold, shimmering glory. In that starlight he +could see the glisten of Celie's hair as it covered them like a +golden veil, and once or twice through the space that separated +them he caught the flash of a strange fire in the outlaw's eyes. +Both shores were visible. He could have seen the approach of a man +two hundred yards away. + +After a little he observed that Blake's head was drooping upon his +chest, and that his breathing had become deeper. His prisoner, he +believed, was asleep. And Celie, nestling on his breast, was soon +in slumber. He alone was awake,--and watching. The dogs, flat on +their bellies, were dead to the world. For an hour he kept his +vigil. In that time he could not see that Blake moved. He heard +nothing suspicious. And the night grew steadily brighter with the +white glow of the stars. He held the revolver in his hand now. The +starlight played on it in a steely glitter that could not fail to +catch Blake's eyes should he awake. + +And then Philip found himself fighting--fighting desperately to +keep awake. Again and again his eyes closed, and he forced them +open with an effort. He had planned that they would rest for two +or three hours. The two hours were gone when for the twentieth +time his eyes shot open, and he looked at Blake. The outlaw had +not moved. His head hung still lower on his breast, and again-- +slowly--irresistibly--exhaustion closed Philip's eyes. Even then +Philip was conscious of fighting against the overmastering desire +to sleep. It seemed to him that he was struggling for hours, and +all that time his subconsciousness was crying out for him to +awake, struggling to rouse him to the nearness of a great danger. +It succeeded at last. His eyes opened, and he stared in a dazed +and half blinded tray toward Blake. His first sensation was one of +vast relief that he had awakened. The stars were brighter. The +night was still. And there, a dozen paces from him was the snow- +hummock. + +But Blake--Blake-- + +His heart leapt into his throat. + +BLAKE WAS GONE! + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + + + +The shock of the discovery that Blake had escaped brought Philip +half to his knees before he thought of Celie. In an instant the +girl was awake. His arm had tightened almost fiercely about her. +She caught the gleam of his revolver, and in another moment she +saw the empty space where their prisoner had been. Swiftly +Philip's eyes traveled over the moonlit spaces about them. Blake +had utterly disappeared. Then he saw the rifle, and breathed +easier. For some reason the outlaw had not taken that, and it was +a moment or two before the significance of the fact broke upon +him. Blake must have escaped just as he was making that last +tremendous fight to rouse himself. He had had no more than time to +slink away into the shadows of the night, and had not paused to +hazard a chance of securing the weapon that lay on the snow close +to Celie. He had evidently believed that Philip was only half +asleep, and in the moonlight he must have seen the gleam of the +big revolver leveled over his captor's knee. + +Leaving Celie huddled in her furs, Philip rose to his feet and +slowly approached the snow hummock against which he had left his +prisoner. The girl heard the startled exclamation that fell from +his lips when he saw what had happened. Blake had not escaped +alone. Running straight out from behind the hummock was a furrow +in the snow like the trail made by an otter. He had seen such +furrows before, where Eskimos had wormed their way foot by foot +within striking distance of dozing seals. Assistance had come to +Blake in that manner, and he could see where--on their hands and +knees--two men instead of one had stolen back through the +moonlight. + +Celie came to his side now, gripping the rifle in her hands. Her +eyes were wide and filled with frightened inquiry as she looked +from the tell-tale trails in the snow into Philip's face. He was +glad that she could not question him in words. He slipped the Colt +into its holster and took the rifle from her hands. In the +emergency which he anticipated the rifle would be more effective. +That something would happen very soon he was positive. If one +Eskimo had succeeded in getting ahead of his comrades to Blake's +relief others of Upi's tribe must be close behind. And yet he +wondered, as he thought of this, why Blake and the Kogmollock had +not killed him instead of running away. The truth he told frankly +to Celie, thankful that she could not understand. + +"It was the gun," he said. "They thought I had only closed my +eyes, and wasn't asleep. If something hadn't kept that gun leveled +over my knee--" He tried to smile, knowing that with every second +the end might come for them from out of the gray mist of moonlight +and shadow that shrouded the shore. "It was a one-man job, +sneaking out like that, and there's sure a bunch of them coming up +fast to take a hand in the game. It's up to us to hit the high +spots, my dear--an' you might pray God to give us time for a +start." + +If he had hoped to keep from her the full horror of their +situation, he knew, as he placed her on the sledge, that he had +failed. Her eyes told him that. Intuitively she had guessed at the +heart of the thing, and suddenly her arms reached up about his +neck as he bent over her and against his breast he heard the +sobbing cry that she was trying hard to choke back. Under the +cloud of her hair her warm, parted lips lay for a thrilling moment +against his own, and then he sprang to the dogs. + +They had already roused themselves and at his command began +sullenly to drag their lame and exhausted bodies into trace +formation. As the sledge began to move he sent the long lash of +the driving whip curling viciously over the backs of the pack and +the pace increased. Straight ahead of them ran the white trail of +the Coppermine, and they were soon following this with the +eagerness of a team on the homeward stretch. As Philip ran behind +he made a fumbling inventory of the loose rifle cartridges in the +pocket of his coat, and under his breath prayed to God that the +day would come before the Eskimos closed in. Only one thing did he +see ahead of him now--a last tremendous fight for Celie, and he +wanted the light of dawn to give him accuracy. He had thirty +cartridges, and it was possible that he could put up a successful +running fight until they reached Armin's cabin. After that fate +would decide. He was already hatching a scheme in his brain. If he +failed to get Blake early in the fight which he anticipated he +would show the white flag, demand a parley with the outlaw under +pretense of surrendering Celie, and shoot him dead the moment they +stood face to face. With Blake out of the way there might be +another way of dealing with Upi and his Kogmollocks. It was Blake +who wanted Celie. In Upi's eyes there were other things more +precious than a woman. The thought revived in him a new thrill of +hope. It recalled to him the incident of Father Breault and the +white woman nurse who, farther west, had been held for ransom by +the Nanamalutes three years ago. Not a hair of the woman's head +had been harmed in nine months of captivity. Olaf Anderson had +told him the whole story. There had been no white man there--only +the Eskimos, and with the Eskimos he believed that he could deal +now if he succeeded in killing Blake. Back at the cabin he could +easily have settled the matter, and he felt like cursing himself +for his shortsightedness. + +In spite of the fact that he had missed his main chance he began +now to see more than hope in a situation that five minutes before +had been one of appalling gloom. If he could keep ahead of his +enemies until daybreak he had a ninety percent chance of getting +Blake. At some spot where he could keep the Kogmollocks at bay and +scatter death among them if they attacked he would barricade +himself and Celie behind the sledge and call out his acceptance of +Blake's proposition to give up Celie as the price of his own +safety. He would demand an interview with Blake, and it was then +that his opportunity would come. + +But ahead of him were the leaden hours of the gray night! Out of +that ghostly mist of pale moonlight through which the dogs were +traveling like sinuous shadows Upi and his tribe could close in on +him silently and swiftly, unseen until they were within striking +distance. In that event all would be lost. He urged the dogs on, +calling them by the names which he had heard Blake use, and +occasionally he sent the long lash of his whip curling over their +backs. The surface of the Coppermine was smooth and hard. Now and +then they came to stretches of glare ice and at these intervals +Philip rode behind Celie, staring back into the white mystery of +the night out of which they had come. It was so still that the +click, dick, click of the dogs' claws sounded like the swift beat +of tiny castanets on the ice. He could hear the panting breath of +the beasts. The whalebone runners of the sledge creaked with the +shrill protest of steel traveling over frozen snow. Beyond these +sounds there were no others, with, the exception of his own breath +and the beating of his own heart. Mile after mile of the +Coppermine dropped behind them. The last tree and the last fringe +of bushes disappeared, and to the east, the north, and the west +there was no break in the vast emptiness of the great Arctic +plain. Ever afterward the memory of that night seemed like a +grotesque and horrible dream to him. Looking back, he could +remember how the moon sank out of the sky and utter darkness +closed them in and how through that darkness he urged on the tired +dogs, tugging with them at the lead-trace, and stopping now and +then in his own exhaustion to put his arms about Celie and repeat +over and over again that everything was all right. + +After an eternity the dawn came. What there was to be of day +followed swiftly, like the Arctic night. The shadows faded away, +the shores loomed up and the illimitable sweep of the plain lifted +itself into vision as if from out of a great sea of receding fog. +In the quarter hour's phenomenon between the last of darkness and +wide day Philip stood straining his eyes southward over the white +path of the Coppermine. It was Celie, huddled close at his side, +who turned her eyes first from the trail their enemies would +follow. She faced the north, and the cry that came from her lips +brought Philip about like a shot. His first sensation was one of +amazement that they had not yet passed beyond the last line of +timber. Not more than a third of a mile distant the river ran into +a dark strip of forest that reached in from the western plain like +a great finger. Then he saw what Celie had seen. Close up against +the timber a spiral of smoke was rising into the air. He made out +in another moment the form of a cabin, and the look in Celie's +staring face told him the rest. She was sobbing breathless words +which he could not understand, but he knew that they had won their +race, and that it was Armin's place. And Armin was not dead. He +was alive, as Blake had said--and it was about breakfast time. He +had held up under the tremendous strain of the night until now-- +and now he was filled with an uncontrollable desire to laugh. The +curious thing about it was that in spite of this desire no sound +came from his throat. He continued to stare until Celie turned to +him and swayed into his arms. In the moment of their triumph her +strength was utterly gone. And then the thing happened which +brought the life back into him again with a shock. From far up the +black finger of timber where it bellied over the horizon of the +plain there floated down to them a chorus of sound. It was a human +sound--the yapping, wolfish cry of an Eskimo horde closing in on +man or beast. They had heard that same cry close on the heels of +the fight in the clearing. Now it was made by many voices instead +of two or three. It was accompanied almost instantly by the clear, +sharp report of a rifle, and a moment later the single shot was +followed by a scattering fusillade. After that there was silence. + +Quickly Philip bundled Celie on the sledge and drove the dogs +ahead, his eyes on a wide opening in the timber three or four +hundred yards above the river. Five minutes later the sledge drew +up in front of the cabin. In that time they heard no further +outcry or sound of gunfire, and from the cabin itself there came +no sign of life, unless the smoke meant life. Scarcely had the +sledge stopped before Celie was on her feet and running to the +door. It was locked, and she beat against it excitedly with her +little fists, calling a strange name. Standing close behind her, +Philip heard a shuffling movement beyond the log walls, the +scraping of a bar, and a man's voice so deep that it had in it the +booming note of a drum. To it Celie replied with almost a shriek. +The door swung inward, and Philip saw a man's arms open and Celie +run into them. He was an old man. His hair and beard were white. +This much Philip observed before he turned with a sudden, thrill +toward the open in the forest. Only he had heard the cry that had +come from that direction, and now, looking back, he saw a figure +running swiftly over the plain toward the cabin. Instantly he knew +that it was a white man. With his revolver in his hand he advanced +to meet him and in a brief space they stood face to face. + +The stranger was a giant of a man. His long, reddish hair fell to +his shoulders. He was bare-headed, and panting as if hard run, and +his face was streaming with blood. His eyes seemed to bulge out of +their sockets as he stared at Philip. And Philip, almost dropping +his revolver in his amazement, gasped incredulously: + +"My God, is it you--Olaf Anderson!" + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + + + +Following that first wild stare of uncertainty and disbelief in +the big Swede's eyes came a look of sudden and joyous recognition. +He was clutching at Philip's hand like a drowning man before he +made an effort to speak, still with his eyes on the other's face +as if he was not quite sure they had not betrayed him. Then he +grinned. There was only one man in the world who could grin like +Olaf Anderson. In spite of blood and swollen features it +transformed him. Men loved the red-headed Swede because of that +grin. Not a man in the service who knew him but swore that Olaf +would die with the grin on his face, because the tighter the hole +he was in the more surely would the grin be there. It was the grin +that answered Philip's question. + +"Just in time--to the dot," said Olaf, still pumping Philip's +hand, and grinning hard. "All dead but me--Calkins, Harris, and +that little Dutchman, O'Flynn, Cold and stiff, Phil, every one of +them. I knew an investigating patrol would be coming up pretty +soon. Been looking for it every day. How many men you got?" + +He looked beyond Philip to the cabin and the sledge. The grin +slowly went out of his face, and Philip heard the sudden catch in +his breath. A swift glance revealed the amazing truth to Olaf. He +dropped Philip's hand and stepped back, taking him in suddenly +from head to foot. + +"Alone!" + +"Yes, alone," nodded Philip. "With the exception of Celie Armin. I +brought her back to her father. A fellow named Blake is back there +a little way with Upi's tribe. We beat them out, but I'm figuring +it won't be long before they show up." + +The grin was fixed in Olaf's face again. + +"Lord bless us, but it's funny," he grunted. "They're coming on +the next train, so to speak, and right over in that neck of woods +is the other half of Upi's tribe chasing their short legs off to +get me. And the comical part of it is you're ALONE!" His eyes were +fixed suddenly on the revolver. "Ammunition?" he demanded eagerly. +"And--grub?" + +"Thirty or forty rounds of rifle, a dozen Colt, and plenty of +meat--" + +"Then into the cabin, and the dogs with us," almost shouted the +Swede. + +From the edge of the forest came the report of a rifle and over +their heads went the humming drone of a bullet. + +They were back at the cabin in a dozen seconds, tugging at the +dogs. It cost an effort to get them through the door, with the +sledge after them. Half a dozen shots came from the forest. A +bullet spattered against the log wall, found a crevice, and +something metallic jingled inside. As Olaf swung the door shut and +dropped the wooden bar in place Philip turned for a moment toward +Celie. She went to him, her eyes shining in the semi-gloom of the +cabin, and put her arms up about his shoulders. The Swede, looking +on, stood transfixed, and the white-bearded Armin stared +incredulously. On her tip-toes Celie kissed Philip, and then +turning with her arms still about him said something to the older +man that brought an audible gasp from Olaf. In another moment she +had slipped away from Philip and back to her father. The Swede was +flattening his face against a two inch crevice between the logs +when Philip went to his side. + +"What did she say, Olaf?" he entreated. + +"That she's going to marry you if we ever get out of this hell of +a fix we're in," grunted Olaf. "Pretty lucky dog, I say, if it's +true. Imagine Celie Armin marrying a dub like you! But it will +never happen. If you don't believe it fill your eyes with that out +there!" + +Philip glued his eyes to the long crevice between the logs and +found the forest and the little finger of plain between straight +in his vision. The edge of the timber was alive with men. There +must have been half a hundred of them, and they were making no +effort to conceal themselves. For the first time Olaf began to +give him an understanding of the situation. + +"This is the fortieth day we've held them off," he said, in the +quick-cut, business-like voice he might have used in rendering a +report to a superior. "Eighty cartridges to begin with and a +month's ration of grub for two. All but the three last cartridges +went day before yesterday. Yesterday everything quiet. On the edge +of starvation this morning when I went out on scout duty and to +take a chance at game. Surprised a couple of them carrying meat +and had a tall fight. Others hove into action and I had to use two +of my cartridges. One left--and they're showing themselves because +they know we don't dare to use ammunition at long range. My +caliber is thirty-five. What's yours?" + +"The same," replied Philip quickly, his blood beginning to thrill +with the anticipation of battle. "I'll give you half. I'm on duty +from Fort Churchill, off on a tangent of my own." He did not take +his eyes from the slit in the wall as he told Anderson in a +hundred words what had happened since his meeting with Bram +Johnson. "And with forty cartridges we'll give 'em a taste of +hell," he added. + +He caught his breath, and the last word half choked itself from +his lips. He knew that Anderson was staring as hard as he. Up from +the river and over the level sweep of plain between it and the +timber came a sledge, followed by a second, a third, and a fourth. +In the trail behind the sledges trotted a score and a half of fur- +clad figures. + +"It's Blake!" exclaimed Philip. + +Anderson drew himself away from the wall. In his eyes burned a +curious greenish flame, and his face was set with the hardness of +iron. In that iron was molded indistinctly the terrible smile with +which he always went into battle or fronted "his man." Slowly he +turned, pointing a long arm at each of the four walls of the +cabin. + +"That's the lay of the fight," he said, making his words short and +to the point. "They can come at us on all sides, and so I've made +a six-foot gun-crevice in each wall. We can't count on Armin for +anything but the use of a club if it comes to close quarters. The +walls are built of saplings and they've got guns out there that +get through. Outside of that we've got one big advantage. The +little devils are superstitious about fighting at night, and even +Blake can't force them into it. Blake is the man I was after when +I ran across Armin and his people. GAD!" + +There was an unpleasant snap in his voice as he peered through the +gun-hole again. Philip looked across the room to Celie and her +father as he divided the cartridges. They were both listening, yet +he knew they did not understand what he and Olaf were saying. He +dropped a half of the cartridges into the right hand pocket of the +Swede's service coat, and advanced then toward Armin with both his +hands held out in greeting. Even in that tense moment he saw the +sudden flash of pleasure in Celie's eyes. Her lips trembled, and +she spoke softly and swiftly to her father, looking at Philip. +Armin advanced a step, and their hands met. At first Philip had +taken him for an old man. Hair and beard were white, his shoulders +were bent, his hands were long and thin. But his eyes, sunken deep +in their sockets, had not aged with the rest of him. They were +filled with the piercing scrutiny of a hawk's as they looked into +his own, measuring him in that moment so far as man can measure +man. Then he spoke, and it was the light in Celie's eyes, her +parted lips, and the flush that came swiftly into her face that +gave him an understanding of what Armin was saying. + +From the end of the cabin Olaf's voice broke in. With it came the +metallic working of his rifle as he filled the chamber with +cartridges. He spoke first to Celie and Armin in their own +language, then to Philip. + +"It's a pretty safe gamble we'd better get ready for them," he +said. "They'll soon begin. Did you split even on the cartridges?" + +"Seventeen apiece." + +Philip examined his rifle, and looked through the gun-crevice +toward the forest. He heard Olaf tugging at the dogs as he tied +them to the bunk posts; he heard Armin say something in a strained +voice, and the Swede's unintelligible reply, followed by a quick, +low-voiced interrogation from Celie. In the same moment his heart +gave a sudden jump. In the fringe of the forest he saw a long, +thin line of moving figures--ADVANCING. He did not call out a +warning instantly. For a space in which he might have taken a long +breath or two his eyes and brain were centered on the moving +figures and the significance of their drawn-out formation. Like a +camera-flash his eyes ran over the battleground. Half way between +the cabin and that fringe of forest four hundred yards away was a +"hogback" in the snow, running a curving parallel with the plain. +It formed scarcely more than a three or four foot rise in the +surface, and he had given it no special significance until now. +His lips formed words as the thrill of understanding leapt upon +him. + +"They're moving!" he called to Olaf. "They're going to make a rush +for the little ridge between us and the timber. Good God, +Anderson, there's an army of them!" + +"Not more'n a hundred," replied the Swede calmly, taking his place +at the gun-crevice. "Take it easy, Phil. This will be good target +practice. We've got to make an eighty percent kill as they come +across the open. This is mighty comfortable compared with the +trick they turned on us when they got Calkins, Harris and O'Flynn. +I got away in the night." + +The moving line had paused just within the last straggling growth +of trees, as if inviting the fire of the defenders. + +Olaf grunted as he looked along the barrel of his rifle. + +"Strategy," he mumbled. "They know we're shy of ammunition." + +In the moments of tense waiting Philip found his first opportunity +to question the man at his side. First, he said: + +"I guess mebby you. understand, Olaf. We've gone through a hell +together, and I love her. If we get out of this she's going to be +my wife. She's promised me that, and yet I swear to Heaven I don't +know more than a dozen words of her language. What has happened? +Who is she? Why was she with Bram Johnson? You know their +language, and have been with them--" + +"They're taking final orders," interrupted Olaf, as if he had not +heard. "There's something more on foot than a rush to the ridge. +It's Blake's scheming. See those little groups forming? They're +going to bring battering-rams, and make a second rush from the +ridge." He drew in a deep breath, and without a change in the even +tone of his voice, went on: "Calkins, Harris and O'Flynn went down +in a good fight. Tell you about that later. Hit seven days' west, +and run on the camp of Armin, his girl, and two white men-- +Russians--guided by two Kogmollocks from Coronation Gulf. You can +guess some of the rest. The little devils had Blake and his gang +about us two days after I struck them. Bram Johnson and his wolves +came along then--from nowhere--going nowhere. The Kogmollocks +think Bram is a great Devil, and that each of his wolves is a +Devil. If it hadn't been for that they would have murdered us in a +hurry, and Blake would have taken the girl. They were queered by +the way Bram would squat on his haunches, and stare at her. The +second day I saw him mumbling over something, and looked sharp. He +had one of Celie's long hairs, and when he saw me he snarled like +an animal, as though he feared I would take it from him. I knew +what was coming. I knew Blake was only waiting for Bram to get +away from his Kogmollocks--so I told Celie to give Bram a strand +of her hair. She did--with her own hands, and from that minute +the madman watched her like a dog. I tried to talk with him, but +couldn't. I didn't seem to be able to make him understand. And +then--" + +The Swede cut himself short. + +"They're moving, Phil! Take the men with the battering rams--and +let them get half way before you fire! ... You see, Bram and his +wolves had to have meat. Blake attacked while he was gone. +Russians killed--Armin and I cornered, fighting for the girl +behind us, when Bram came back like a burst of thunder. He didn't +fight. He grabbed the girl, and was off with her like the wind +with his wolf-team. Armin and I got into this cabin, and here-- +forty days and nights--" + +His voice stopped ominously. A fraction of a second later it was +followed by the roar of his rifle, and at the first shot one of +Blake's Kogmollocks crumpled up with a grunt half way between the +snow-ridge and the forest. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + + + +The Eskimos were advancing at a trot now over the open space. +Philip was amazed at their number. There were at least a hundred, +and his heart choked with a feeling of despair even as he pulled +the trigger for his first shot. He had seen the effect of Olaf's +shot, and following the Swede's instructions aimed for his man in +the nearest group behind the main line. He did not instantly see +the result, as a puff of smoke shut out his vision, but a moment +later, aiming again, he saw a dark blotch left in the snow. From +his end of the crevice Olaf had seen the man go down, and he +grunted his approbation. There were five of the groups bearing +tree trunks for battering-rams, and on one of these Philip +concentrated the six shots in his rifle. Four of the tree-bearers +went down, and the two that were left dropped their burden and +joined those ahead of them. Until Philip stepped back to reload +his gun he had not noticed Celie. She was close at his side, +peering through the gun-hole at the tragedy out on the plain. Once +before he had been astounded by the look in her face when they had +been confronted by great danger, and as his fingers worked swiftly +in refilling the magazine of his rifle he saw it there again. It +was not fear, even now. It was a more wonderful thing than that. +Her wide-open eyes glowed with a strange, dark luster; in the +center of each of her cheeks was a vivid spot of color, and her +lips were parted slightly, so that he caught the faintest gleam of +her teeth. Wonderful as a fragile flower she stood there with her +eyes upon him, her splendid courage and her faith in him flaming +within her like a fire. + +And then he heard Anderson's voice: + +"They're behind the ridge. We got eight of them." + +In half a dozen places Philip had seen where bullets had bored the +way through the cabin, and leaning his gun against the wall, he +sprang to Celie and almost carried her behind the bunk that was +built against the logs. + +"You must stay here," he cried. "Do you understand! HERE!" + +She nodded, and smiled. It was a wonderful smile--a flash of +tenderness telling him that she knew what he was saying, and that +she would obey him. She made no effort to detain him with her +hands, but in that moment--if life had been the forfeit--Philip +would have stolen the precious time in which to take her in his +arms. For a space he held her close to him, his lips crushed to +hers, and faced the wall again with the throb of her soft breast +still beating against his heart. He noticed Armin standing near +the door, his hand resting on a huge club which, in turn, rested +on the floor. Calmly he was waiting for the final rush. Olaf was +peering through the gun-hole again. And then came what he had +expected--a rattle of fire from the snow-ridge. The PIT-PIT-PIT of +bullets rained against the cabin in a dull tattoo. Through the +door came a bullet, sending a splinter close to Armin's face. +Almost in the same instant a second followed it, and a third came +through the crevice so close to Philip that he felt the hissing +breath of it in his face. One of the dogs emitted a wailing howl +and flopped among its comrades in uncanny convulsions. + +Olaf staggered back, and faced Philip. There was no trace of the +fighting grin in his face now. It was set like an iron mask. + +"GET DOWN!" he shouted. "Do you hear, GET DOWN!" He dropped on his +knees, crying out the warning to Armin in the other's language. +"They've got enough guns to make a sieve of this kennel if their +ammunition holds out--and the lower logs are heaviest. Flatten +yourself out until they stop firing, with your feet toward 'em, +like this," and he stretched himself out on the floor, parallel +with the direction of fire. + +In place of following the Swede's example Philip ran to Celie. +Half way a bullet almost got him, flipping the collar of his +shirt. He dropped beside her and gathered her up completely in his +arms, with his own body between her and the fire. A moment later +he thanked God for the protection of the bunk. He heard the +ripping of a bullet through the saplings and caught distinctly the +thud of it as the spent lead dropped to the floor. Celie's head +was close on his breast, her eyes were on his face, her soft lips +so near he could feel their breath. He kissed her, unbelieving +even then that the end was near for her. It was monstrous-- +impossible. Lead was finding its way into the cabin like +raindrops. He heard the Swede's voice again, crying thickly from +the floor: + +"Hug below the lower log. You've got eight inches. If you rise +above that they'll get you." He repeated the warning to Armin. + +As if to emphasize his words there came a howl of agony from +another of the dogs. + +Still closer Philip held the girl to him. Her hands had crept +convulsively to his neck. He crushed his face down against hers, +and waited. It came to him suddenly that Blake must be reckoning +on this very protection which he was giving Celie. He was gambling +on the chance that while the male defenders of the cabin would be +wounded or killed Celie would be sheltered until the last moment +from their fire. If that was so, the firing would soon cease until +Blake learned results. + +Scarcely had he made this guess when the fusillade ended. Instead +of rifle-fire there came a sudden strange howl of voices and Olaf +sprang to his feet. Philip had risen, when the Swede's voice came +to him in a choking cry. Prepared for the rush he had expected, +Olaf was making an observation through the gun-crevice. Suddenly, +without turning his head, he yelled back at them: + +"Good God--it's Bram--Bram Johnson!" + +Even Celie realized the thrilling import of the Swede's excited +words. BRAM JOHNSON! She was only a step behind Philip when he +reached the wall. With him she looked out. Out of that finger of +forest they were coming--Bram and his wolves! The pack was free, +spreading out fan-shape, coming like the wind! Behind them was +Bram--a wild and monstrous figure against the whiteness of the +plain, bearing in his hand a giant club. His yell came to them. It +rose above all other sound, like the cry of a great beast. The +wolves came faster, and then-- + +The truth fell upon those in the cabin with a suddenness that +stopped the beating of their hearts. + +Bram Johnson and his wolves were attacking the Eskimos! + +From the thrilling spectacle of the giant mad-man charging over +the plain behind his ravenous beasts Philip shifted his amazed +gaze to the Eskimos. They were no longer concealing themselves. +Palsied by a strange terror, they were staring at the onrushing +horde and the shrieking wolf-man. In those first appalling moments +of horror and stupefaction not a gun was raised or a shot fired. +Then there rose from the ranks of the Kogmollocks a strange and +terrible cry, and in another moment the plain between the forest +and the snow-ridge was alive with fleeing creatures in whose heavy +brains surged the monstrous thought that they were attacked not by +man and beast, but by devils. And in that same moment it seemed +that Bram Johnson and his wolves were among them. From man to man +the beasts leapt, driven on by the shrieking voice of their +master; and now Philip saw the giant mad-man overtake one after +another of the running figures, and saw the crushing force of his +club as it fell. Celie swayed back from the wall and stood with +her hands to her face. The Swede sprang past her, flung back the +bar to the door, and opened it. Philip was a step behind him. Prom +the front of the cabin they began firing, and man after man +crumpled down under their shots. If Bram and his wolves sensed the +shooting in the ferocity of their blood-lust they paid no more +attention to it than to the cries for mercy that rose chokingly +out of the throats of their enemies. In another sixty seconds the +visible part of it was over. The last of the Kogmollocks +disappeared into the edge of the forest. After them went the wolf- +man and his pack. + +Philip faced his companion. His gun was hot--and empty. The old +grin was in Olaf's face. In spite of it he shuddered. + +"We won't follow," he said. "Bram and his wolves will attend to +the trimmings, and he'll come back when the job is finished. +Meanwhile we'll get a little start for home, eh? I'm tired of this +cabin. Forty days and nights--UGH! it was HELL. Have you a spare +pipeful of tobacco, Phil? If you have--let's see, where did I +leave off in that story about Princess Celie and the Duke of +Rugni?" + +"The--the--WHAT?" + +"Your tobaeco, Phil!" + +In a dazed fashion Philip handed his tobacco pouch to the Swede. + +"You said--Princess Celie--the Duke of Rugni--" + +Olaf nodded as he stuffed his pipe bowl. + +"That's it. Armin is the Duke of Rugni, whatever Rugni is. He was +chased off to Siberia a good many years ago, when Celie was a kid, +that somebody else could get hold of the Dukedom. Understand? +Millions in it, I suppose. He says some of Rasputin's old friends +were behind it, and that for a long time he was kept in the +dungeons of the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul, with the Neva +River running over his head. The friends he had, most of them in +exile or chased out of the country, thought he was dead, and some +of these friends were caring for Celie. Just after Rasputin was +killed, and before the Revolution broke out, they learned Armin +was alive and dying by inches somewhere up on the Siberian coast. +Celie's mother was Danish--died almost before Celie could +remember; but some of her relatives and a bunch of Russian exiles +in London framed up a scheme to get Armin back, chartered a ship, +sailed with Celie on board, and--" + +Olaf paused to light his pipe. + +"And they found the Duke," he added. "They escaped with him before +they learned of the Revolution, or Armin could have gone home with +the rest of the Siberian exiles and claimed his rights. For a lot +of reasons they put him aboard an American whaler, and the whaler +missed its plans by getting stuck in the ice for the winter up in +Coronation Gulf. After that they started out with dogs and sledge +and guides. There's a lot more, but that's the meat of it, Phil. +I'm going to leave it to you to learn Celie's language and get the +details first-hand from her. But she's a right enough princess, +old man. And her Dad's a duke. It's up to you to Americanize 'em. +Eh, what's that?" + +Celie had come from the cabin and was standing at Philip's side, +looking up into his face, and the light which Olaf saw unhidden in +her eyes made him laugh softly: + +"And you've got the job half done, Phil. The Duke may go back and +raise the devil with the people who put him in cold storage, but +Lady Celie is going to like America. Yessir, she's going to like +it better'n any other place on the face of the earth!" + +It was late that afternoon, traveling slowly southward over the +trail of the Coppermine, when they heard far behind them the +wailing cry of Bram Johnson's wolves. The sound came only once, +like the swelling surge of a sudden sweep of wind, yet when they +camped at the beginning of darkness Philip was confident the +madman and his pack were close behind them. Utter exhaustion +blotted out the hours for Celie and himself, while Olaf, buried in +two heavy Eskimo coats he had foraged from the field of battle, +sat on guard through the night. Twice in the stillness of his long +vigil he heard strange cries. Once it was the cry of a beast. The +second time it was that of a man. + +The second day, with dogs refreshed, they traveled faster, and it +was this night that they camped in the edge of timber and built a +huge fire. It was such a fire as illumined the space about them +for fifty paces or more, and it was into this light that Bram +Johnson stalked, so suddenly and so noiselessly that a sharp +little cry sprang from Celie's lips, and Olaf and Philip and the +Duke of Rugni stared in wide-eyed amazement. In his right hand the +wolf-man bore a strange object. It was an Eskimo coat, tied into +the form of a bag, and in the bottom of this improvision was a +lump half the size of a water pail. Bram seemed oblivious of all +presence but that of Celie. His eyes were on her alone as he +advanced and with a weird sound in his throat deposited the bundle +at her feet. In another moment he was gone. The Swede rose slowly +from where he was sitting, and speaking casually to Celie, took +the wolf-man's gift up in his hands. Philip observed the strange +look in his face as he turned his back to Celie in the firelight +and opened the bag sufficiently to get a look inside. Then he +walked out into the darkness, and a moment later returned without +the bundle, and with a laugh apologized to Celie for his action. + +"No need of telling her what it was," he said to Philip then. "I +explained that it was foul meat Bram had brought in as a present. +As a matter of fact it was Blake's head. You know the Kogmollocks +have a pretty habit of pleasing a friend by presenting him with +the head of a dead enemy. Nice little package for her to have +opened, eh?" + +After all, there are some very strange happenings in life, and the +adventurers of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police come upon their +share. The case of Bram Johnson, the mad wolf-man of the Upper +Country, happened to be one of them, and filed away in the +archives of the Department is a big envelope filled with official +and personal documents, signed and sworn to by various people. +There is, for instance, the brief and straightforward deposition +of Corporal Olaf Anderson, of the Fort Churchill Division, and +there is the longer and more detailed testimony of Mr. and Mrs. +Philip Raine and the Duke of Rugni; and attached to these +depositions is a copy of an official decision pardoning Bram +Johnson and making of him a ward of the great Dominion instead of +a criminal. He is no longer hunted. "Let Bram Johnson alone" is +the word that had gone forth to the man-hunters of the Service. It +is a wise and human judgment. Bram's country is big and wild. And +he and his wolves still hunt there under the light of the moon and +the stars. + +THE END + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Golden Snare +by James Oliver Curwood + diff --git a/old/thgld10.zip b/old/thgld10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4bc22a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/thgld10.zip |