heard.  Her voice was pure and soft.  It trembled a little, and she was breathing quickly.  But the look in her face that had at first horrified him was no longer there.  She had braided her hair and had coiled the shining strands on the crown of her head, and the coloring in her face was like that of a rare painting.  In these astounding moments he knew that such color and such hair did not go with any race that had ever bred in the northland.  From her face, even as her lips spoke, he looked at Bram.  The wolf-man was transfigured.  His strange eyes were shining, his heavy face was filled with a dog-like joy, and his thick lips moved as if he was repeating to himself what the girl was saying.

Was it possible that he understood her?  Was the strange language in which she was speaking common between them!  At first Philip thought that it must be so—­and all the horrors of the situation that he had built up for himself fell about him in confusing disorder.  The girl, as she stood there now, seemed glad that Bram had returned; and with a heart choking him with its suspense he waited for Bram to speak, and act.

When the girl ceased speaking the wolf-man’s response came in a guttural cry that was like a paean of triumph.  He dropped on his knees beside the dunnage bag and mumbling thickly as he worked he began emptying its contents upon the floor.

Philip looked at the girl.  She was looking at him now.  Her hands were clutched at her breast, and in her face and attitude there was a wordless entreaty for him to understand.  The truth came to him like a flash.  For some reason she had forced herself to appear that way to the wolf-man.  She had forced herself to smile, forced the look of gladness into her face, and the words from her lips.  And now she was trying to tell him what it meant, and pointing to Bram as he knelt with his huge head and shoulders bent over the dunnage bag on the floor she exclaimed in a low, tense voice: 

“Tossi—­tossi—­han er tossi!”

It was useless.  He could not understand, and it was impossible for him to hide the bewilderment in his face.  All at once an inspiration came to him.  Bram’s back was toward him, and he pointed to the sticks of firewood.  His pantomime was clear.  Should he knock the wolf-man’s brains out as he knelt there?

He could see that his question sent a thrill of alarm through her.  She shook her head.  Her lips formed strange words, and looking again at Bram she repeated, “Tossi—­tossi—­han er tossi!” She clasped her hands suddenly to her head then.  Her slim fingers buried themselves in the thick braids of her hair.  Her eyes dilated—­and suddenly understanding flashed upon him.  She was telling him what he already knew—­that Bram Johnson was mad, and he repeated after her the “Tossi-tossi,” tapping his forehead suggestively, and nodding at Bram.  Yes, that was it.  He could see it in the quick intake of her breath and the sudden expression of relief that swept over her face.  She had been afraid he would attack the wolf-man.  And now she was glad that he understood he was not to harm him.