most before his back was turned.

He returned to the Eskimos. The three were dead. It made him
shudder--one with a tiny bullet hole squarely between the eyes, and the
others crushed by the blows of the club. His hand fondled Celie's
little revolver--the pea-shooter he had laughed at. After all it had
saved his life. And the club--

He did not examine too closely there. From the man he had struck with
his naked fist he outfitted himself with a hood and temiak, or coat. In
the temiak there were no pockets, but at the waist of each of the dead
men a narwhal skin pouch which answered for all pockets. He tossed the
three pouches in a little heap on the snow before he searched for
weapons. He found two knives and half a dozen of the murderous little
javelins. One of the knives was still clutched in the hand of the
Eskimo who was creeping up to disembowel him when Celie's revolver
saved him. He took this knife because it was longer and sharper than
the other.

On his knees he began to examine the contents of the three pouches. In
each was the inevitable roll of babiche, or caribou-skin cord, and a
second and smaller waterproof narwhal bag in which were the Kogmollock
fire materials. There was no food. This fact was evident proof that the
Eskimos were in camp somewhere in the vicinity. He had finished his
investigation of the pouches when, looking up from his kneeling
posture, he saw Celie approaching.

In spite of the grimness of the situation he could not repress a smile
as he rose to greet her. At fifty paces, even with her face toward him,
one would easily make the error of mistaking her for an Eskimo, as the
sealskin bashlyk was so large that it almost entirely concealed her
face except when one was very close to her. Philip's first assistance
was to roll back the front of the hood. Then he pulled her thick braid
out from under the coat and loosed the shining glory of her hair until
it enveloped her in a wonderful shimmering mantle. Their enemies could
not mistake her for a man NOW, even at a hundred yards. If they ran
into an ambuscade she would at least be saved from the javelins.

Celie scarcely realized what he was doing. She was staring at the dead
men--silent proof of the deadly menace that had threatened them and of
the terrific fight Philip must have made. A strange note rose in her
throat, and turning toward him suddenly she flung herself into his
arms. Her own arms encircled his neck, and for a space she lay