es were drifting farther and farther away, and his face
was as Lang's face had been a few moments before.

Nearer and nearer swept the pack, covering that last half mile with the
speed of the wind, the huge yellow form of Hero leading the others by a
body's length. They made no sound now. When they shot out of the forest
into the little opening they had come so silently that even Lang did
not see them. In another moment they were upon him. Josephine staggered
back, her eyes big and wild with horror. She saw him go down, and then
his shrieks rang out like a madman's. The others were on their feet,
and not until she saw Philip lying still and white on the snow did the
power of speech return to her lips. She sprang toward the dogs.

"KILL! KILL! KILL!" she cried. "Hero--KILL! NIPA HAO, boys!
Beaver--Wolf--Hero--Captain--KILL--KILL--KILL!"

As her own voice rang out, Lang's screams ceased, and then she saw
Philip dragging himself to his knees. At her calls there came a sudden
surge in the pack, and those who could not get at Lang leaped upon the
remaining three. With a cry Josephine fell upon her knees beside
Philip, clasping his head in her arms, holding him in the protection of
her own breast as they looked upon the terrible scene.

For a moment more she looked, and then she dropped her face on Philip's
shoulder with a ghastly cry. Still partly dazed, Philip stared. Screams
such as he had never heard before came from the lips of the dying men.
From screams they turned to moaning cries, and then to a horrible
silence broken only by the snarling grind of the maddened dogs.

Strength returned to Philip quickly. He felt Josephine limp and
lifeless in his arms, and with an effort he staggered to his feet, half
carrying her. A few yards away was a small tepee in which Lang had kept
her. He partly carried, partly dragged her to this, and then he
returned to the dogs.

Vainly he called upon them to leave their victims. He was seeking for a
club when through the balsam thicket burst John Adare and Father George
at the head of a dozen men. In response to Adare's roaring voice the
pack slunk off. The beaten snow was crimson. Even Adare, as he faced
Philip, could find no words in his horror. Philip pointed to the tepee.

"Josephine--is there--safe," he gasped. As Adare rushed into the tepee
Philip swayed up to Father George.

"I am dizzy--faint," he said. "Help me--"

He went to Lang and dropped upon his knees beside him. Th