down the shore to the knot of wildly excited Esquimos.

With the aid of the grateful wife and son of Kovik, Marcel's canoe was
swiftly loaded and his treasured puppy lashed in the bow. But the rush
up the beach of an infuriated throng bent on his death, which Marcel
stoically awaited beside a large boulder, was delayed. Not a hundred
yards distant, the doughty Kovik, the center of an arguing mob, was
fighting with all the wits he possessed for the man who had saved his
son. For Marcel to attempt to escape by water would only have drawn the
fire of the Huskies and nullified Kovik's efforts, and their kayaks,
faster than any canoe, were below him. A break for the "bush," even if
successful, in the end, meant starvation. So with extra cartridges
between his teeth, and in his hands, Jean Marcel grimly fingered the
trigger-guard of his rifle, as he waited at the boulder for the turn of
the dice down the shore.

Minutes, each one an eternity to the man at bay, passed. But Kovik still
held his men, and Marcel clearly noted a change in the manner of the
Huskies. The shouting had ceased. His friend was winning.

Shortly, Kovik left the group and walked rapidly toward Marcel, followed
at a distance by his people.

"Dey keel you, but Kovik say you fr'en' wid spirit; he come down riv'
an' eat Husky," explained the worried defender of Jean. "Kovik say you
shoot wid spirit gun, all de Husky; so you go, queek!"

The broad face of Kovik split in a grim smile as he gripped the hand of
the relieved Marcel and pushed off his canoe. Thus, doubly, had the
loyal Esquimo paid for the life of his son.

With the emotions of a man suddenly reprieved from a sentence of death,
Marcel poled his canoe out into the current. Behind him, the Esquimos
had already joined Kovik on the shore, when, warned by a shout from his
friend, Marcel instinctively ducked as a seal spear whistled over his
head. Some doubter was testing the magic of the white demon.

Seizing his paddle Jean swiftly crossed the river and secured his
precious net. But he was not yet rid of his enemies. If the young men,
conquering their fear of his friendship with demons, at once launched
their kayaks, they could overhaul his loaded canoe. But once clear of
the last tepees, with his pursuers behind him, he was confident that he
could pick them off with his rifle as fast as they came up in their
rocking craft.

With all the power of his iron back and shoulders, Jean drove his cano