The Golden Snare

Dipper shone like a constellation of tiny suns. The world did not need a moon. At a distance of three hundred yards Philip could have seen a caribou if it had

with a purring sound that was at times like the purr of a cat and at others like the faint hum of a bee. Absorbed in his work he did not, for a time, hear t

Then he jumped to his feet and ran through fifty

t distance away. Perhaps a mile. It

as it did now, and he felt the blood leap in sudden swiftness through his body as the sound bore straight in his direction. In a f

ecessity drove him to it. And this necessity bore down upon him like the wind. The pack, whether guided by man or beast, was driving straight at him, and it was less than a quarter of a mile away when Philip drew himself up in the spruce. His breath came quick, and his heart was thumping like a drum, for as he climbed up the slender re

his camp, and that it would strike the timber a good mile below him. And now, with a still deeper thrill, he noted the silence of the pursuing wolves. It meant but one thing. They were so close on the heels of their prey that they no longer made a sound. Scarcely had the caribou disappeared when Philip saw the first of them-gra

d the curious ZIP-ZIP-ZIP of snowshoes approaching his blood ran no faster than it had in the preceding minutes of his expectation, so sure had he been that the man he was after would soon loom up out of the starlight. In the brief interval after the passing of the wolves he had made up his mind what he would do. Fate had played a trump card into his

looked for Bram out where the wolves had passed. And then, all at once, came the shock. It was tremendous. The trickery of sound on the Barren had played an unexpected prank wi

out his shoulders fell a mass of unkempt hair that looked like seaweed. His beard was short and thick, and for a flash Philip saw the starlight in his eyes-eyes that were shining like the eyes of a cat. In that same moment he saw the face. It was a terrible, questing face-the face of a creature that was hunting, and yet hunted; of a creature half

t hand. His fingers gripped tighter about the butt of

have carried for miles over the open plain-the call of the master to his pack, of the man-beast to his brothers. It may be that even before the cry was finished some super-instinct had warned Bram Johnson of a danger which he had not seen. The cry was cut short. It ended in a hissing gasp, as stea

g, Philip cal

on-stop! In the

and power of Law throughout the northland. Bram heard them. But he di

Bram J

was weird and chuckling, as th

to hit. Twice he fired over Bram's head and shoulders, so cl

son!" he shoute

it was swallowed up entirely. Once more he was alone under the stars, encompassed by a world of nothingness. He felt, all at once, that he had been a

of that which quickened his pulse as he stared out into the white space into which Bram h

Lee as he turned back through the scrub

onal hazard held a fascination for him, but he had also the very great human desire to hold a fairly decent hand in any game of chance he entered. It was the oppressive conviction that he had no chance now that stunned him. For a few minutes he stood over the spot where his fire had been, a film of steam ris

would not see Bram again. He would hear only his laugh, or his great v

y firing after his man Philip had too clearly disclosed his identity and his business; and Bram, fig

nce, that Bram had been unarmed. Comprehension of this fact, slow as it had been, worked a swift and sudden hope in him, and his eyes took in quickly the larger trees about him. From a tree he co

ind-blown spruce six inches in diameter, standing in an open. In this open Philip knew that he could play havoc with the pack. On the other hand, if Bram possessed a rifle, the gamble was against him.