“No need of telling her what it was,” he said to Philip then.  “I explained that it was foul meat Bram had brought in as a present.  As a matter of fact it was Blake’s head.  You know the Kogmollocks have a pretty habit of pleasing a friend by presenting him with the head of a dead enemy.  Nice little package for her to have opened, eh?”

After all, there are some very strange happenings in life, and the adventurers of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police come upon their share.  The case of Bram Johnson, the mad wolf-man of the Upper Country, happened to be one of them, and filed away in the archives of the Department is a big envelope filled with official and personal documents, signed and sworn to by various people.  There is, for instance, the brief and straightforward deposition of Corporal Olaf Anderson, of the Fort Churchill Division, and there is the longer and more detailed testimony of Mr. and Mrs. Philip Raine and the Duke of Rugni; and attached to these depositions is a copy of an official decision pardoning Bram Johnson and making of him a ward of the great Dominion instead of a criminal.  He is no longer hunted.  “Let Bram Johnson alone” is the word that had gone forth to the man-hunters of the Service.  It is a wise and human judgment.  Bram’s country is big and wild.  And he and his wolves still hunt there under the light of the moon and the stars.

The end