rists. They were torn and
bleeding. His second thought was of Corporal Carr--and a weapon. The
man-hunter had taken the precaution to empty the chambers of Falkner's
revolver and rifle and throw his cartridges out in the snow. But his
skinning-knife was still in its sheath and belt, and he buckled it
about his waist. He had no thought of killing Carr, though he hated the
man almost to the point of murder. But his lips set in a grim smile as
he thought of what he WOULD do.

He knew that when Carr returned he would not enter at once into the
cabin. He was the sort of man who would never take an unnecessary
chance. He would go first to the little window--and look in. Falkner
turned the lamp-wick lower, and placed the lamp on the table directly
between the window and the bunk. Then he rolled his blankets into
something like a human form, and went to the window to see the effect.
The bunk was in deep shadow. From the window Corporal Carr could not
see beyond the lamp. Then Falkner waited, out of range of the window,
and close to the door.

It was not long before he heard something above the wailing of the
storm. It was the whine of a dog, and he knew that a moment later the
Corporal's ghostly face was peering in at the window. Then there came
the sudden, swift opening of the door, and Carr sprang in like a cat,
his hand on the butt of his revolver, still obeying that first
governing law of his merciless life--caution, Falkner was so near that
he could reach out and touch Carr, and in an instant he was at his
enemy's throat. Not a cry fell from Carr's lips. There was death in the
terrible grip of Falkner's hands, and like one whose neck had been
broken Carr sank to the floor. Falkner's grip tightened, and he did not
loosen it until Carr was black in the face and his jaw fell open. Then
Falkner bound him hand and foot with the babiche thongs, and dragged
him to the bunk.

Through the open door one of the sledge-dogs had thrust his head and
shoulders. It was a Barracks team, accustomed to warmth and shelter,
and Falkner had no difficulty in getting the leader and his three mates
inside. To make friends with them he fed them chunks of raw caribou
meat, and when Carr opened his eyes he was busy packing. He laughed
joyously when he saw that the man-hunter had regained consciousness,
and was staring at him with evident malice.

"Hello, Carr," he greeted affably. "Feeling better? Tables sort of
turned, ain't they?"

Carr made