him from the stupor into which he had fallen. He lifted his
head, and, still bewildered, wondered why the laboratory was so
brilliantly illuminated.

Then, through the glare, he saw the driving snow-flakes with their
dancing shadows magnified a hundred fold, and, all at once, he
remembered. Staggering to his feet, and groping with outstretched
arms, he pushed forward along the narrow pathway outlined by the
mysterious light. He no longer heard the sound of bells, but in its
place came strains of music that blended weirdly with the shrieking
wind, and irresistibly compelled him forward. The pathway sloped
downward and then took a sharp turn. As Cabot passed this the light
behind him was extinguished as suddenly as it had appeared, the wild
music sounded louder than ever, and directly in front of him gleamed
two squares of light like windows. Between them was a dark space,
towards which he instinctively stumbled. It proved to be as he had
hoped, a door massive and without any means of unclosing that his blind
fumblings could discover. So he beat against it feebly and uttered a
hoarse cry for help. In another moment it was opened, and Cabot,
leaning heavily against it, fell into a room, small, warm, and brightly
lighted.

For a few minutes he lay with closed eyes, barely conscious that his
struggle for life had been successful, and that in some mysterious
manner he had gained a place of safety. Gradually he became aware that
some one was bending over him, and opening his eyes he gazed full into
a face that he instantly recognised, though it had sadly changed since
he last saw it. At that time it had expressed strength in every line,
but now it was haggard and worn by suffering.

"The Man-wolf!" gasped Cabot, in a voice hardly above a whisper.

A slight smile flitted across the man's face, and then, without
warning, he sank to the floor in a dead faint. His mighty strength had
been turned to the weakness of water, and the iron will had at length
relaxed its hold upon the enfeebled body. As the man-wolf fell, a
stream of blood trickled from his mouth, and he choked for breath as
though strangling.

There is nothing so effective in restoring spent strength as a demand
upon it from one who is weaker, and at sight of the big man's
helplessness Cabot was instantly nerved to renewed effort. He sat up,
cut loose his snowshoes, closed the open door, and rid himself of his
snow-laden outer garments. Then, by a