hort space he stood there helplessly in the red heat of the
fire the desperateness of the situation seared itself like the hot
flame itself in his brain. As prisoners in Bram's cabin, guarded by the
wolves and attacked by the Eskimos, they still had shelter, food,
clothing--a chance to live, at least the chance to fight. And now--

He put a hand to his bare head and faced the direction of the storm.
With the dying away of the wind snow had begun to fall, and with this
snow he knew there would come a rising temperature. It was probably
twenty degrees below zero, and unless the wind went down completely his
ears would freeze in an hour or two. Then he thought of the thick
German socks he wore. One of them would do for a cap. His mind worked
swiftly after that. There was, after all, a tremendous thrill in the
thought of fighting the odds against him, and in the thought of the
girl waiting for him in the bearskin, her life depending upon him
utterly now. Without him she could not move from the tree where he had
left her unless her naked feet buried themselves in the snow. If
something happened to him--she would die. Her helplessness filled him
suddenly with a wild exultation, the joy of absolute possession that
leapt for an instant or two above his fears. She was something
more--now--than the woman he loved. She was a little child, to be
carried in his arms, to be sheltered from the wind and the cold until
the last drop of blood had ceased to flow in his veins. His was the
mighty privilege now to mother her until the end came for them both--or
some miracle saved them. The last barrier was gone from between them.
That he had met her only yesterday was an unimportant incident now. The
world had changed, life had changed, a long time had passed. She
belonged to him as utterly as the stars belonged to the skies. In his
arms she would find life--or death.

He was braced for the fight. His mind, riding over its first fears,
began to shape itself for action even as he turned back toward the edge
of the forest. Until then he had not thought of the other cabin--the
cabin which Bram and he had passed on their way in from the Barren. His
heart rose up suddenly in his throat and he wanted to shout. That cabin
was their salvation! It was not more than eight or ten miles away, and
he was positive that he could find it.

He ran swiftly through the increasing circle of light made by the
burning logs. If the Eskimos had not gone far some