d. At last Bram looked at
him, and pointed to his snowshoes where he had placed them last night
against the snow dune. His invitation for Philip to prepare himself for
travel was accompanied by nothing more than a grunt.

The wolves were returning, sneaking in watchfully and alert. Bram
greeted them with the snap of his whip, and when Philip was ready
motioned him to lead the way into the north. Half a dozen paces behind
Philip followed Bram, and twice that distance behind the outlaw came
the pack. Now that his senses were readjusting themselves and his pulse
beating more evenly Philip began to take stock of the situation. It
was, first of all, quite evident that Bram had not accepted him as a
traveling companion, but as a prisoner; and he was equally convinced
that the golden snare had at the last moment served in some mysterious
way to save his life.

It was not long before he saw how Bram had out-generaled him. Two miles
beyond the big drift they came upon the outlaw's huge sledge, from
which Bram and his wolves had made a wide circle in order to stalk him
from behind. The fact puzzled him. Evidently Bram had expected his
unknown enemy to pursue him, and had employed his strategy accordingly.
Why, then, had he not attacked him the night of the caribou kill?

He watched Bram as he got the pack into harness. The wolves obeyed him
like dogs. He could perceive among them a strange comradeship, even an
affection, for the man-monster who was their master. Bram spoke to them
entirely in Eskimo--and the sound of it was like the rapid
CLACK--CLACK--CLACK of dry bones striking together. It was weirdly
different from the thick and guttural tones Bram used in speaking
Chippewyan and the half-breed patois.

Again Philip made an effort to induce Bram to break his oppressive
silence. With a suggestive gesture and a hunch of his shoulders he
nodded toward the pack, just as they were about to start.

"If you thought I tried to kill you night before last why didn't you
set your wolves after me, Bram--as you did those other two over on the
Barren north of Kasba Lake? Why did you wait until this morning? And
where--WHERE in God's name are we going?"

Bram stretched out an arm.

"There!"

It was the one question he answered, and he pointed straight as the
needle of a compass into the north. And then, as if his crude sense of
humor had been touched by the other thing Philip had asked, he burst
into a laugh. It made one shudder t