g 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 al