suddenly out into the open. The Eskimo did not see him, and Philip
waited until he was on the point of hurling his javelin before he
made a sound. Then he gave a roar that almost split his throat. In
the same instant he began firing. The crack of his pistol and the
ferocious outcry he made sent the Eskimo off the stockade like a
ball hit by a club. The pack, maddened by their inability to reach
their enemies, turned like a flash. Warned by one experience,
Philip hustled Celie into the cabin. They were scarcely over the
threshold when the wolves were at the door.

"We're sure up against a nice bunch," he laughed, standing for a
moment with his arm still about Celie's waist. "A regular hell of
a bunch, little girl! Now if those wolves only had sense enough to
know that we're a little brother and sister to Bram, we'd be able
to put up a fight that would be some circus. Did you see that
fellow topple off the fence? Don't believe I hit him. At least I
hope I didn't. If they ever find out the size of this pea-
shooter's sting they'll sit up there like a row of crows and laugh
at us. But--what a bully NOISE it made!"

He was blissfully unmindful of danger as he held her in the crook
of his arm, looking straight into her lovely face as he talked. It
was a moment of splendid hypocrisy. He knew that in her excitement
and the tremendous effort she was making to understand something
of what he was saying that she was unconscious of his embrace.
That, and the joyous thrill of the situation, sent the hot blood
into his face.

"I'm dangerously near to going the limit," he told her, speaking
with a seriousness that would impress her. "I'd fight twenty of