The door opened, and Bram entered. At his heels, beyond the
threshold, Philip caught a glimpse of the pack glaring hungrily
into the cabin. Bram was burdened under the load he had brought
from the sledge. He dropped it to the floor, and without looking
at Philip his eyes fastened themselves on the door to the inner
room.

They stood there for a full minute, Bram as if hypnotized by the
door, and Philip with his eyes on Bram. Neither moved, and neither
made a sound. A curtain had dropped over the entrance to the inner
room, and beyond that they could hear the girl moving about. A
dozen emotions were fighting in Philip. If he had possessed a
weapon he would have ended the matter with Bram then, for the
light that was burning like a strange flame in the wolf-man's eyes
convinced him that he had guessed the truth. Bare-handed he was no
match for the giant madman. For the first time he let his glance
travel cautiously about the room. Near the stove was a pile of
firewood. A stick of this would do--when the opportunity came.

And then, in a way that made him almost cry out, every nerve in
his body was startled. The girl appeared in the doorway, a smile
on her lips and her eyes shining radiantly--straight at Bram! She
partly held out her arms, and began talking. She seemed utterly
oblivious of Philip's presence. Not a word that she uttered could
he understand. It was not Cree or Chippewyan or Eskimo. It was not
French or German or any tongue that he had ever heard. Her voice
was pure and soft. It trembled a little, and she was breathing
quickly. But the look in her face that had at first horrified him
was no longer there. She had braided her hair and had coiled the