They could hear the cold creak of the sledge-runners now, and a
moment later the patter of many feet outside the door. In a single
leap Philip was at the door. Another and he was outside, and an
amazed Eskimo was looking into the round black eye of his
revolver. It required no common language to make him understand
what was required of him. He backed into the cabin with the
revolver within two feet of his breast. Celie had caught up the
rifle and was standing guard over Blake as though fearful that he
might snap his bonds. Philip laughed joyously when he saw how
quickly she understood that she was to level the rifle at the
Kogmollock's breast and hold it there until he had made him a
prisoner. She was wonderful. She was panting in her excitement.
From the floor Blake had noticed that her little white finger was
pressing gently against the trigger of the rifle. It had made him
shudder. It made the Eskimo cringe a bit now as Philip tied his
hands behind him. And Philip saw it, and his heart thumped. Celie
was gloriously careless.

It was over inside of two minutes, and with an audible sigh of
relief she lowered her rifle. Then she leaned it against the wall
and ran to Blake. She was tremendously excited as she pointed down
into the bloodstained face and tried to explain to Philip the
reason for that strange and thrilling recognition he had seen
between them. From her he looked at Blake. The look in the
prisoner's face sent a cold shiver through him. There was no fear
in it. It was filled with a deep and undisguised exultation. Then
Blake looked at Philip, and laughed outright.

"Can't understand her, eh?" he chuckled. "Well, neither can I. But
I know what she's trying to tell you. Damned funny, ain't it?"