"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 m