rcled the man's neck. From the picture Philip had looked at Celie,
and the look he had seen in her eyes and face filled his heart with a
leaden chill. It was more than hope that had flared up in his breast
since he had entered Bram Johnson's cabin. And now that hope went
suddenly out, and with its extinguishment he was oppressed by a deep
and gloomy foreboding.

He went slowly to the window and looked out.

The next moment Celie was startled by the sudden sharp cry that burst
from his lips. Swiftly she ran to his side. He had dropped the paper.
His hands were gripping the edge of the sill, and he was staring like
one who could not believe his own eyes.

"Good God--look! Look at that!"

They had heard no sound outside the cabin during the last few minutes.
Yet under their eyes, stretched out in the soiled and trampled snow,
lay the wolf that a short time before had been gnawing a bone. The
animal was stark dead. Not a muscle of its body moved. Its lips were
drawn back, its jaws agape, and under the head was a growing smear of
blood. It was not these things--not the fact but the INSTRUMENT of
death that held Philip's eyes. The huge wolf had been completely
transfixed by a spear.

Instantly Philip recognized it--the long, slender, javelin-like narwhal
harpoon used by only one people in the world, the murderous little
black-visaged Kogmollocks of Coronation Gulf and Wollaston Land.

He sprang suddenly back from the window, dragging Celie with him.

CHAPTER XIII

"Kogmollocks--the blackest-hearted little devils alive when it comes to
trading wives and fighting," said Philip, a little ashamed of the
suddenness with which he had jumped back from the window. "Excuse my
abruptness, dear. But I'd recognize that death-thing on the other side
of the earth. I've seen them throw it like an arrow for a hundred
yards--and I have a notion they're watching that window!"

At sight of the dead wolf and the protruding javelin Celie's face had
gone as white as ash. Snatching up one of the pictures from the table,
she thrust it into Philip's hand. It was one of the fighting pictures.

"So it's YOU?" he said, smiling at her and trying to keep the tremble
of excitement out of his voice. "It's you they want, eh? And they must
want you bad. I've never heard of those little devils coming within a
hundred miles of this far south. They MUST want you bad. Now--I wonder
WHY?" His voice was calm again. It thrilled him to see how utte