huddled about the sledge, inanimate as death.

Jan drew himself over the rocks. Once he had seen a big-footed lynx
creep upon a wide-awake fox, and like that lynx he crept upon the man
beside the fire. One of the tired dogs moved, and his pointed nostrils
quivered in the air. Jan lay flat in the snow. Then the dog's muzzle
dropped between his paws, and the boy moved on.

Inch by inch he advanced. The inches multiplied themselves into a
foot, the foot lengthened into yards, and still the man remained
hunched over his simmering pot.

Jan rose gently from his hands and knees to his feet, a furnace of
madness blazing in his eyes. The restless dog raised his head again.
He sniffed danger--near, menacing danger--and sprang up with a
snarling cry that brought the man over the fire to quick attention. In
a flash Jan took the last leap, and his club crashed down upon the
missioner's head. The man pitched over like a log, and with a shrill
cry the boy was at his throat.

"I am Jan Thoreau!" he shrieked. "I am Jan Thoreau--Jan Thoreau--come
to keel you!" He dropped his club, and was upon the man's chest, his
slender fingers tightening like steel wire about the thick throat of
his enemy. "I keel you slow--slow!" he cried, as the missioner
struggled weakly.

The great thick body heaved under him, and he put all his strength
into his hands. Something struck him in the face. Something struck him
again and again, but he felt neither the pain nor the force of it, and
his voice sobbed out his triumph as he choked. The man's hands reached