They could hear the cold creak of the sledge-runners now, and a moment later the patter of many feet outside the door.  In a single leap Philip was at the door.  Another and he was outside, and an amazed Eskimo was looking into the round black eye of his revolver.  It required no common language to make him understand what was required of him.  He backed into the cabin with the revolver within two feet of his breast.  Celie had caught up the rifle and was standing guard over Blake as though fearful that he might snap his bonds.  Philip laughed joyously when he saw how quickly she understood that she was to level the rifle at the Kogmollock’s breast and hold it there until he had made him a prisoner.  She was wonderful.  She was panting in her excitement.  From the floor Blake had noticed that her little white finger was pressing gently against the trigger of the rifle.  It had made him shudder.  It made the Eskimo cringe a bit now as Philip tied his hands behind him.  And Philip saw it, and his heart thumped.  Celie was gloriously careless.

It was over inside of two minutes, and with an audible sigh of relief she lowered her rifle.  Then she leaned it against the wall and ran to Blake.  She was tremendously excited as she pointed down into the bloodstained face and tried to explain to Philip the reason for that strange and thrilling recognition he had seen between them.  From her he looked at Blake.  The look in the prisoner’s face sent a cold shiver through him.  There was no fear in it.  It was filled with a deep and undisguised exultation.  Then Blake looked at Philip, and laughed outright.

“Can’t understand her, eh?” he chuckled.  “Well, neither can I. But I know what she’s trying to tell you.  Damned funny, ain’t it?”

It was impossible for him to keep his eyes from shifting to the door.  There was expectancy in that glance.  Then his glance shot almost fiercely at Philip.

“So you’re Philip Raine, of the R. N. M. P., eh?  Well, you’ve got me guessed out.  My name is Blake, but the G don’t stand for George.  If you’ll cut the cord off’n my legs so I can stand up or sit down I’ll tell you something.  I can’t do very much damage with my hands hitched the way they are, and I can’t talk layin’ down cause of my Adam’s apple chokin’ me.”

Philip seized the rifle and placed it again in Celie’s hands, stationing her once more at the door.

“Watch—­and listen,” he said.

He cut the thongs that bound his prisoner’s ankles and Blake struggled to his feet.  When he fronted Philip the big Colt was covering his heart.

“Now—­talk!” commanded Philip.  “I’m going to give you half a minute to begin telling me what I want to know, Blake.  You’ve brought the Eskimos down.  There’s no doubt of that.  What do you want of this girl, and what have you done with her people?”

He had never looked into the eyes of a cooler man than Blake, whose blood-stained lips curled in a sneering smile even as he finished.