ave 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 i