The Golden Snare

r the first time his thick lips had fallen agape. He did not seem to breathe. At the end of the thirty seconds his hand unclenched from about the whip and the club and they fell into the snow. Sl

ened and his thick lips lost some of their cruelty as he held up the snare before his eyes so that the ligh

ce. He picked up the revolver, gazed heavily at it for a moment, and with a grunt which must have reflected his mental decision hurled it far out over the plain. Instantly the wolves were after it in a mad rush. T

l!" growl

e had been helpless a few minutes before, he was utterly so now. In the same breath it flashed upon him that Bram's activity in the de

to his snowshoes where he had placed them last night against the snow dune. His invitat

owed Bram, and twice that distance behind the outlaw came the pack. Now that his senses were readjusting themselves and his pulse beating more evenly Philip began to take stock of the situation. It was, first of al

which Bram and his wolves had made a wide circle in order to stalk him from behind. The fact puzzled him. Evidently Bram had expected his

ction, for the man-monster who was their master. Bram spoke to them entirely in Eskimo-and the sound of it was like the rapid CLACK-CLACK-CLACK of

ive silence. With a suggestive gesture and a hunch of his shoul

es after me, Bram-as you did those other two over on the Barren north of Kasba Lak

etched o

he

rom mere ugliness into one of the leering gargoyles carven under the cornices of ancient buildings. It was this laugh, heard almost at Bram's elbow, that made Philip suddenly grip hard at a new understanding-the laugh and the look in Bram's eyes. It set him throbbing, and filled him all at once with the desire t

ng that had killed Pelletier. Loneliness. The fate fo

s to ride on the sledge. Bram himself went to the head of the pack. At the sharp clack of his Esk

ed eight miles an hour. For a few minutes Philip could not keep his eyes from Bram and the gray backs of the wolves. They fascinated him, and at the same time the sight of them-straining on ahead of him

im that he might have reached out and touched it was Bram's club. At the side of the club lay a rifle. It was of the old breech-loading, single-shot type, and Philip wondered why Bram had destro

aces the striking end of the club was dented as though it had suffered the impact of tremendous blows, and it was discolored by suggestive stains. There was no sign of cooking utensils an

e protection of the pack. Or-had he faith in his prisoner? It was this last question that Philip would liked to have answered in the affirmative. He had no desire to harm Bram. He had even a less desire to escape him. He had forgotten, so far as his personal intentions were concerned, that he was an agent of the Law-under oath to br

it as it lay unbound on Pierre Breault's table, his present relation with Bram Johnson he would have considered as a purely physical

e the trail was taking him. Was it possible that Bram was striking straight north for Coronation Gulf and the Eskimo? He had noted that the polar bear skin was only slightly worn-that it had not long been taken from the back of the animal that had worn it. He recalled what he could remember of his geography. Their course, if c

was Bram's goal, he had found at least one pos

horrible. The theory of other white men being with her he was conscious of forcing upon himself to offset the more reasonable supposition that, as in the case of the golden snare, she belonged to Bram. He tried to free himself of that thought, but it clung to him with a tenaciousness that oppressed him with a gr

rtake Bram, and demand the truth from him. He was calm enough to realize the absurdity of such action. Upon his own

must have exceeded ten miles an hour. A dozen times Philip made efforts at conversation. Not a word did he get from Bram in reply. Again and again the outlaw shouted to his wolves in Eskimo; he cracked his whip, he flung his great arms over his head, and twice there rolled out of his

ch it, but dropped on his knees and examined it closely. Then he rose to his feet a

eu. Why you no shoot when

Bram put the question after his long an

"Why the devil don't you come across!" he demanded. "Why don't you talk? I'm not after you-now. The Police think you are de

it. The thing seemed beyond the control of even Bram himself, and Philip stood like one paralyzed as his companion turned quickly to the sledge and re

ip looked at the man now his last doubt was gone. Br

and began devouring a slice of the raw meat. He had left the blade of his knife buried in the carcass-an invitation for Philip to help himself. Philip seated himself near Bram and opened his pack. Purposely he began placing his food between them, so that the other mig

ed to his feet, expecting a final assault that would end him, Bram was kneeling beside his pack. A mumbling and incoherent jargon of sound issued from his thick lips as he took stock of Philip's supplies. Of Philip himself he seemed now utterly oblivious. Still mumbling, he dragged the pile of bear skins from the sledge, unrolled them, and revealed a worn and tattered dunnage bag. At first Philip thought this bag was empty. Then Bram dr

ention to Philip, he reseated himself on the edge o

evil!" mumb

for him to bear malice or thought of vengeance. In Bram's face, as he had covetously piled up the different articles of food, he had seen the terrible glare

n front of Bram as he ate the raw steak, feigning a greater relish than he actually enjoyed in consuming his uncooked meal. Bram did not wait for him to finish. No sooner had he swallowed the last

was running behind, or at the head of the pack. For the pack there was no rest. Hour after hour it surged steadily onward over the endless plain, and whenever the wolves sagged for a moment in their traces Brain's whip snapped over their gray backs and his voice

re no longer traveling north-but almost due west. Every quarter of an h

had taken possession of him from the moment he had found the food in his pack. Again and again he heard the

hem was darkening when

, Bram seemed for a few mome

casually as though he had been conversi

re, m

down the line speaking to each one in turn. After that he fell again into his stolid silence. From the bear skins he produced a kettle, fi

we come, Bram?

u," answered Bram

h farther ha

as holding the big knife with which he cut the caribou meat

nife-an' call me lie. I keel heem-lak that!"-and h

d, and whistled, and once tried the experiment of singing a snatch of the Caribou Song which he knew that Bram must have heard many times before. As he roasted his steak over the fire he talked about the Barren, and the great herd of caribou h

scooped a hollow in the snow for a bed, and tilted the big sledge over it as a roof. Philip made himself as comfortable as he could with his sleeping bag, using his tent as an ad

asp on his arm, and roused himself

up, m

ng the wolves, and knew that he was making ready to travel. When his sleeping-bag and tent were on the

he night when Philip had first seen Bram. By lighting an occasional match Philip continued to keep a record of direction and time. It was three o'clock, and they were still traveling west, when to his

ey came to a fringe of scattered timber which grew steadily heavier and deeper as they entered into it. They must have penetra

eshold of the door, he felt sweep over him an utter disappointment. There was no life here. No smoke came from the chimney and the door was almost buried in a huge dri

that Bram was nearing the end of his trail. The wolves were dead tired. The wolf-man himself was lagging, and since midnight ha

ich was a second cabin. Here at a glance Philip saw there was life. A thin spiral of smoke was rising from the chimney. He

hat had come into his face. It was no longer a face of almost brutish impassiveness. There was a strange glow in his eyes. His thick lips were parted as if on the point of speech, and he was breathing with a quickness which did not come of physical exertion. Philip did not move or speak. Behind him he heard the restles

ced Philip

you go to

paused to make certain of Bram's intention.

loose ze wo

e excitement in his face as he turned toward the cabin. From the gate to the door ran a path worn by many footprints, and his heart beat faster as he noted the smallness of the mocca

oor. He did not knock, but opened it an

en he threw back his head and such a laugh of triumph came from his lips

moment, had solved the my