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The Golden Snare by James Oliver Curwood
page 60 of 191 (31%)
were dead tired. The wolf-man himself was lagging, and since
midnight had ridden more frequently on the sledge. Still he drove
on, and Philip searched with increasing eagerness the trail ahead
of them.

It was eight o'clock--two hours after they had passed the cabin--
when they came to the edge of a clearing in the center of which
was a second cabin. Here at a glance Philip saw there was life. A
thin spiral of smoke was rising from the chimney. He could see
only the roof of the log structure, for it was entirely shut in by
a circular stockade of saplings six feet high.

Twenty paces from where Bram stopped his team was the gate of the
stockade. Bram went to it, thrust his arm through a hole even with
his shoulders, and a moment later the gate swung inward. For
perhaps a space of twenty seconds he looked steadily at Philip,
and for the first time Philip observed the remarkable change that
had come into his face. It was no longer a face of almost brutish
impassiveness. There was a strange glow in his eyes. His thick
lips were parted as if on the point of speech, and he was
breathing with a quickness which did not come of physical
exertion. Philip did not move or speak. Behind him he heard the
restless whine of the wolves. He kept his eyes on Bram, and as he
saw the look of joy and anticipation deepening in the wolf-man's
face the appalling thought of what it meant sickened him. He
clenched his hands. Bram did not see the act. He was looking again
toward the cabin and at the spiral of smoke rising out of the
chimney.

Then he faced Philip, and said,
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