His weird laugh followed the words.  He went to the meat and began carving off chunks for the pack, and for a long time after that one would have thought that he was dumb.  Philip made greater effort than ever to rouse him into speech.  He laughed, 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 he had seen farther east; he asked Bram questions about the weather, the wolves, and the country farther north and west.  More than once he was certain that Bram was listening intently, but nothing more than an occasional grunt was his response.

For an hour after they had finished their supper they continued to melt snow for drinking water for themselves and the wolves.  Night shut them in, and in the glow of the fire Bram 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 additional protection.  The fire went out.  Bram’s heavy breathing told Philip that the wolf-man was soon asleep.  It was a long time before he felt a drowsiness creeping over himself.

Later he was awakened by a heavy grasp on his arm, and roused himself to hear Bram’s voice close over him.

“Get up, m’sieu.”

It was so dark he could not see Bram when he got on his feet, but he could hear him a moment later among the wolves, and knew that he was making ready to travel.  When his sleeping-bag and tent were on the sledge he struck a match and looked at his watch.  It was less than a quarter of an hour after midnight.

For two hours Bram led his pack straight into the west.  The night cleared after that, and as the stars grew brighter and more numerous in the sky the plain was lighted up on all sides of them, as on the 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 surprise they struck a small patch of timber.  The clump of stunted and wind-snarled spruce covered no more than half an acre, but it was conclusive evidence they were again approaching a timber-line.

From the patch of spruce Bram struck due north, and for another hour their trail was over the white Barren.  Soon after this they came to a fringe of scattered timber which grew steadily heavier and deeper as they entered into it.  They must have penetrated eight or ten miles into the forest before the dawn came.  And in that dawn, gray and gloomy, they came suddenly upon a cabin.

Philip’s heart gave a jump.  Here, at last, would the mystery of the golden snare be solved.  This was his first thought.  But as they drew nearer, and stopped at the threshold 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 drift of snow.  His thoughts were cut short by the crack of Bram’s whip.  The wolves swept onward and Bram’s insane laugh sent a weird and shuddering echo through the forest.