he fate of the two men from
Churchill added to the painful realization of his own immediate
peril--a danger brought upon himself by an almost inconceivable
stupidity. Philip was no more than the average human with good red
blood in his veins. A certain amount of personal hazard held a
fascination for him, but he had also the very great human desire to
hold a fairly decent hand in any game of chance he entered. It was the
oppressive conviction that he had no chance now that stunned him. For a
few minutes he stood over the spot where his fire had been, a film of
steam rising into his face, trying to adjust his mind to some sort of
logical action. He was not afraid of Bram. He would quite cheerfully
have gone out and fought open-handedly for his man, even though he had
seen that Bram was a giant. This, much he told himself, as he fingered
the breech of his rifle, and listened.

But it was not Bram who would fight. The wolves would come. He probably
would not see Bram again. He would hear only his laugh, or his great
voice urging on his pack, as Corporal Lee and the other man had heard
it.

That Bram would not return for vengeance never for a moment entered his
analysis of the situation. By firing after his man Philip had too
clearly disclosed his identity and his business; and Bram, fighting for
his own existence, would be a fool not to rid himself of an immediate
and dangerous enemy.

And then, for the first time since he had returned from the edge of the
Barren, Philip saw the man again as he had seen him standing under the
white glow of the stars. And it struck him, all at once, that Bram had
been unarmed. Comprehension of this fact, slow as it had been, worked a
swift and sudden hope in him, and his eyes took in quickly the larger
trees about him. From a tree he could fight the pack and kill them one
by one. He had a rifle and a revolver, and plenty of ammunition. The
advantage would lay all with him. But if he was treed, and Bram
happened to have a rifle--

He put on the heavy coat he had thrown off near the fire, filled his
pockets with loose ammunition, and hunted for the tree he wanted. He
found it a hundred yards from his camp. It was a gnarled and wind-blown
spruce six inches in diameter, standing in an open. In this open Philip
knew that he could play havoc with the pack. On the other hand, if Bram
possessed a rifle, the gamble was against him. Perched in the tree,
silhouetted against the stars that made th