feet giving sharp commands to the pack. Instantly
the wolves were alert in their traces. Philip took his former position
on the sledge, with Bram behind him.

Never in all the years afterward did he forget that day. As the hours
passed it seemed to him that neither man nor beast could very long
stand the strain endured by Bram and his wolves. At times Bram rode on
the sledge for short distances, but for the most part he was running
behind, or at the head of the pack. For the pack there was no rest.
Hour after hour it surged steadily onward over the endless plain, and
whenever the wolves sagged for a moment in their traces Brain's whip
snapped over their gray backs and his voice rang out in fierce
exhortation. So hard was the frozen crust of the Barren that snowshoes
were no longer necessary, and half a dozen times Philip left the sledge
and ran with the wolf-man and his pack until he was winded. Twice he
ran shoulder to shoulder with Bram.

It was in the middle of the afternoon that his compass told him they
were no longer traveling north--but almost due west. Every quarter of
an hour after that he looked at his compass. And always the course was
west.

He was convinced that some unusual excitement was urging Bram on, and
he was equally certain this excitement had taken possession of him from
the moment he had found the food in his pack. Again and again he heard
the strange giant mumbling incoherently to himself, but not once did
Bram utter a word that he could understand.

The gray world about them was darkening when at last they stopped.

And now, strangely as before, Bram seemed for a few moments to turn
into a sane man.

He pointed to the bundle of fuel, and as casually as though he had been
conversing with him all the day he said to Philip:

"A fire, m'sieu."

The wolves had dropped in their traces, their great shaggy heads
stretched out between their paws in utter exhaustion, and Bram went
slowly down the line speaking to each one in turn. After that he fell
again into his stolid silence. From the bear skins he produced a
kettle, filled it with snow, and hung it over the pile of fagots to
which Philip was touching a match. Philip's tea pail he employed in the
same way.

"How far have we come, Bram?" Philip asked.

"Fift' mile, m'sieu," answered Bram without hesitation.

"And how much farther have we to go?"

Bram grunted. His face became more stolid. In his hand he was holding
the big knife with wh