CHAPTER XIII




"Kogmollocks--the blackest-hearted little devils alive when it
comes to trading wives and fighting," said Philip, a little
ashamed of the suddenness with which he had jumped back from the
window. "Excuse my abruptness, dear. But I'd recognize that death-
thing on the other side of the earth. I've seen them throw it like
an arrow for a hundred yards--and I have a notion they're watching
that window!"

At sight of the dead wolf and the protruding javelin Celie's face
had gone as white as ash. Snatching up one of the pictures from
the table, she thrust it into Philip's hand. It was one of the
fighting pictures.

"So it's YOU?" he said, smiling at her and trying to keep the
tremble of excitement out of his voice. "It's you they want, eh?
And they must want you bad. I've never heard of those little
devils coming within a hundred miles of this far south. They MUST
want you bad. Now--I wonder WHY?" His voice was calm again. It
thrilled him to see how utterly she was judging the situation by
the movement of his lips and the sound of his voice. With him
unafraid she would be unafraid. He judged that quickly. Her eyes