gray gloom became opaque. Over the
thousand miles of drift to the north there came a faint whistling wind,
rising at times in fitful sweeps of flinty snow, and at intervals dying
away until it became only a lulling sound. In one of these intervals
both men held their breath.

From somewhere out of the night, and yet from nowhere that they could
point, there came a human voice.

"Pier-r-r-r-e Thoreau--Pier-r-r-r-e Thoreau--Ho, Pierre Thoreau-u-u-u!"

"Off there!" shivered the doctor.

"No--out there!" said Philip.

He raised his own voice in an answering shout, and in response there
came again the cry for Pierre Thoreau.

"I'm right!" cried the doctor. "Come!"

He darted away, his greatcoat making a dark blur in the night ahead of
Philip, who paused again to shout through the megaphone of his hands.
There came no reply. A second and a third time he shouted, and still
there was no response.

"Queer," he thought. "What the devil can it mean?"

The doctor had disappeared, and he followed in the direction he had
gone. A hundred yards more and he saw the dark blur again, close to the
ground. The doctor was bending over a human form stretched out in the
snow.

"Just in time," he said to Philip as he came up. Excitement had gone
from his voice now. It was cool and professional, and he spoke in a
commanding way to his companion. "You're heavier than I, so take him by
the shoulders and hold his head well up. I don't believe it's the cold,
for his body is warm and comfortable. I feel something wet and thick on
his shirt, and it may be blood. So hold his head well up."

Between them they carried him back to the cabin, and with the quick
alertness of a man accustomed to every emergency of his profession the
doctor stripped off his two coats while Philip looked at the face of the
man whom they had placed in his bunk. His own experience had acquainted
him with violence and bloodshed, but in spite of that fact he shuddered
slightly as he gazed on the unconscious form.

It was that of a young man of splendid physique, with a closely shaven
face, short blond hair, and a magnificent pair of shoulders.

Beyond the fact that he knew the face wore no beard he could scarce have
told if it were white or black. From chin to hair it was covered with
stiffened blood.

The doctor came to his side.

"Looks bad, doesn't he?" he said cheerfully. "Thought it wasn't the
cold. Heart beating too fast, pulse too active. Ah--hot water if