“Bram ran away with her just as you were about to get her into your hands,” supplied Philip, fighting to save time.  “She didn’t even know that you wanted her, Blake, so far as I can find out.  It’s all a mystery to her.  I don’t believe she’s guessed the truth even now.  How the devil did you do it?  Playing the friend stunt, eh!  And keeping yourself in the background while your Kogmollocks did the work?  Was that it?”

Blake nodded.  His face was darkening as he looked at Philip and the light in his eyes was changing to a deep and steady glare.  In that moment Philip had failed to keep the exultation out of his voice.  It shone in his face.  And Blake saw it.  A throaty sound rose out of his thick chest and his lips parted in a snarl as there surged through him a realization that he had been tricked.

In that interval Philip spoke.

“If I never sent up a real prayer to God before I’m sending it now, Blake,” he said.  “I’m thanking Him that you didn’t have time to harm Celie Armin, an’ I’m thanking Him that Bram Johnson had a soul in his body in spite of his warped brain and his misshapen carcass.  And now I’m going to keep my word.  I’m not going to lose another minute.  Come!”

“You—­you mean—­”

“No, you haven’t guessed it.  We’re not going over the Barren.  We’re going back to that cabin on the Coppermine, and you’re going with us.  And listen to this, Blake—­listen hard!  There may be fighting.  If there is I want you to sort of harden yourself to the fact that the first shot fired is going straight through your gizzard.  Do I make myself clear?  I’ll shoot you deader than a salt mackerel the instant one of your little murderers shows up on the trail.  So tell this owl-faced heathen here to spread the glad tidings when his brothers come in—­and spread it good.  Quick about it!  I’m not bluffing now.”

CHAPTER XXII

In Philip’s eyes Blake saw his match now.  And more.  For three-quarters of a minute he talked swiftly to the Eskimo.  Philip knew that he was giving the Kogmollock definite instructions as to the manner in which his rescue must be accomplished.  But he knew also that Blake would emphasize the fact that it must not be in open attack, no matter how numerous his followers might be.

He hurried Blake through the door to the sledge and team.  The sledge was heavily laden with the meat of a fresh caribou kill and from the quantity of flesh he dragged off into the snow Philip surmised that the cabin would very soon be the rendezvous of a small army of Eskimo.  There was probably a thousand pounds of it, Retaining only a single quarter of this he made Celie comfortable and turned his attention to Blake.  With babiche cord he re-secured his prisoner with the “manacle-hitch,” which gave him free play of one hand and arm—­his left.  Then he secured the Eskimo’s whip and gave it to Blake.

“Now—­drive!” he commanded.  “Straight for the Coppermine, and by the shortest cut.  This is as much your race as mine now, Blake.  The moment I see a sign of anything wrong you’re a dead man!”