shining strands on the crown of her head, and the coloring in her
face was like that of a rare painting. In these astounding moments
he knew that such color and such hair did not go with any race
that had ever bred in the northland. From her face, even as her
lips spoke, he looked at Bram. The wolf-man was transfigured. His
strange eyes were shining, his heavy face was filled with a dog-
like joy, and his thick lips moved as if he was repeating to
himself what the girl was saying.

Was it possible that he understood her? Was the strange language
in which she was speaking common between them! At first Philip
thought that it must be so--and all the horrors of the situation
that he had built up for himself fell about him in confusing
disorder. The girl, as she stood there now, seemed glad that Bram
had returned; and with a heart choking him with its suspense he
waited for Bram to speak, and act.

When the girl ceased speaking the wolf-man's response came in a
guttural cry that was like a paean of triumph. He dropped on his
knees beside the dunnage bag and mumbling thickly as he worked he
began emptying its contents upon the floor.

Philip looked at the girl. She was looking at him now. Her hands
were clutched at her breast, and in her face and attitude there
was a wordless entreaty for him to understand. The truth came to
him like a flash. For some reason she had forced herself to appear
that way to the wolf-man. She had forced herself to smile, forced
the look of gladness into her face, and the words from her lips.
And now she was trying to tell him what it meant, and pointing to
Bram as he knelt with his huge head and shoulders bent over the