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 which he cut the caribou meat. He was
staring at it. From the knife he looked at Philip.

"I keel ze man at God's Lake because he steal ze knife--an' call
me lie. I keel heem--lak that!"--and he snatched up a stick and
broke it into two pieces.

His weird laugh followed the words. He went to the meat and began
carving off chunks for the pack, and for a long time after that
one would have thought that he was dumb. Philip made greater
effort than ever to rouse him into speech. He laughed, and