After a moment or two he looked at his watch. Since striking the
strange trail they had traveled forty minutes. In that tine they
had covered at least three miles, and were a good four miles from
the scene of the fight. It was a big start. The Eskimos were
undoubtedly a half that distance behind them, and the stranger
whom they were following could not be far ahead.

They went on at a walk. For the third time they came to a point in
the trail where the stranger had stopped to make observations. It
was apparent to Philip that the man he was after was not quite
sure of himself. Yet he did not hesitate in the course due north.

For half an hour they continued in that direction. Not for an
instant now did Philip allow; his caution to lag. Eyes and ears
were alert for sound or movement either behind or ahead of them,
and more and more frequently he turned to scan the back trail.
They were at least five miles from the edge of the open where the
fight had occurred when they came to the foot of a ridge, and
Philip's heart gave a sudden thump of hope. He remembered that
ridge. It was a curiously formed "hog-back"--like a great windrow
of snow piled up and frozen. Probably it was miles in length.
Somewhere he and Bram had crossed it soon after passing the first
cabin. He had not tried to tell Celie of this cabin. Time had been
too precious. But now, in the short interval of rest he allowed
themselves, he drew a picture of it in the snow and made her
understand that it was somewhere close to the ridge and that it
looked as though the stranger was making for it. He half carried
Celie up the ridge after that. She could not hide from him that
her feet were dragging even at a walk. Exhaustion showed in her
face, and once when she tried to speak to him her voice broke in a