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 the night like day, he would be an easy victim.
Bram could pick him off without showing himself. But it was his
one chance, and he took it.