"Too late with the fish, Bram," said Philip. "We couldn't make the
little lady wait. Besides, I think you've fed her on fish and meat
until she is just about ready to die. Come to breakfast!"

He loaded a tin plate with hot potatoes, bannock-bread and rice
that he had cooked before setting out on the Barren, and placed it
before the girl. A second plate he prepared for Bram, and a third
for himself. Bram had not moved. He still held the pail and the
fish in his hands. Suddenly he lowered both to the floor with a
growl that seemed to come from the bottom of his great chest, and
came to the table. With one huge hand he seized Philip's arm. It
was not a man's grip. There was apparently no effort in it, and
yet it was a vise-like clutch that threatened to snap the bone.
And all the time Bram's eyes were on the girl. He drew Philip
back, released the terrible grip on his arm, and shoved the two
extra plates of food to the girl. Then he faced Philip.

"We eat ze meat, m'sieu!"

Quietly and sanely he uttered the words. In his eyes and face
there was no trace of madness. And then, even as Philip stared,
the change came. The giant flung back his head and his wild, mad
laugh rocked the cabin. Out in the corral the snarl and cry of the
wolves gave a savage response to it.

It took a tremendous effort for Philip to keep a grip on himself.
In that momentary flash of sanity Bram had shown a chivalry which
must have struck deep home in the heart of the girl. There was a
sort of triumph in her eyes when he looked at her. She knew now
that he must understand fully what she had been trying to tell