d not afraid to
die. He loved her. And yet--she was a mystery. He had held her in his
arms, had felt her heart beating against his breast, had kissed her
lips and her eyes and her hair, and her response had been to place
herself utterly within the shelter of his arms. She had given herself
to him and he was possessed of the strength of one about to fight for
his own. And with that strength the questions pounded again in his
head. Who was she? And for what reason were mysterious enemies coming
after her through the gray dawn?

In that moment he heard a sound. His heart stood suddenly still. He
held his breath. It was a sound almost indistinguishable from the
whisper of the air and the trees and yet it smote upon his senses like
the detonation of a thunder-clap. It was more of a PRESENCE than a
sound. The trail was clear. He could see to the far side of the open
now, and there was no movement. He turned his head--slowly and without
movement of his body, and in that instant a gasp rose to his lips, and
died there. Scarcely a dozen paces from him stood a poised and hooded
figure, a squat, fire-eyed apparition that looked more like monster
than man in that first glance. Something acted within him that was
swifter than reason--a sub-conscious instinct that works for
self-preservation like the flash of powder in a pan. It was this
sub-conscious self that received the first photographic impression--the
strange poise of the hooded creature, the uplifted arm, the cold,
streaky gleam of something in the dawn-light, and in response to that
impression Philip's physical self crumpled down in the snow as a
javelin hissed through the space where his head and shoulders had been.

So infinitesimal was the space of time between the throwing of the
javelin and Philip's movement that the Eskimo believed he had
transfixed his victim. A scream of triumph rose in his throat. It was
the Kogmollock sakootwow--the blood-cry, a single shriek that split the
air for a mile. It died in another sort of cry. From where he had
dropped Philip was up like a shot. His club swung through the air and
before the amazed hooded creature could dart either to one side or the
other it had fallen with crushing force. That one blow must have
smashed his shoulder to a pulp. As the body lurched downward another
blow caught the hooded head squarely and the beginning of a second cry
ended in a sickening grunt. The force of the blow carried Philip half
off his feet, an