him. He did not hear the wailing of the wind that came with the
dawn. When day followed dawn there were other sounds which he did
not hear. His inner consciousness, the guardian of his sleep,
cried for him to arouse himself. It pounded like a little hand in
his brain, and at last he began to move restlessly, and twist in
his sleeping-bag. His eyes shot open suddenly. The light of day
filled his tunnel. He looked toward the "door" which he had
covered with his tent.

The tent was gone.

In its place was framed a huge shaggy head, and Philip found
himself staring straight into the eyes of Bram Johnson.





CHAPTER VII




Philip was not unaccustomed to the occasional mental and physical
shock which is an inevitable accompaniment of the business of Law
in the northland. But never had he felt quite the same stir in his
blood as now--when he found himself looking down the short tunnel
into the face of the man he was hunting.

There come now and then moments in which a curious understanding