Leaving Celie huddled in her furs, Philip rose to his feet and slowly approached the snow hummock against which he had left his prisoner.  The girl heard the startled exclamation that fell from his lips when he saw what had happened.  Blake had not escaped alone.  Running straight out from behind the hummock was a furrow in the snow like the trail made by an otter.  He had seen such furrows before, where Eskimos had wormed their way foot by foot within striking distance of dozing seals.  Assistance had come to Blake in that manner, and he could see where—­on their hands and knees—­two men instead of one had stolen back through the moonlight.

Celie came to his side now, gripping the rifle in her hands.  Her eyes were wide and filled with frightened inquiry as she looked from the tell-tale trails in the snow into Philip’s face.  He was glad that she could not question him in words.  He slipped the Colt into its holster and took the rifle from her hands.  In the emergency which he anticipated the rifle would be more effective.  That something would happen very soon he was positive.  If one Eskimo had succeeded in getting ahead of his comrades to Blake’s relief others of Upi’s tribe must be close behind.  And yet he wondered, as he thought of this, why Blake and the Kogmollock had not killed him instead of running away.  The truth he told frankly to Celie, thankful that she could not understand.

“It was the gun,” he said.  “They thought I had only closed my eyes, and wasn’t asleep.  If something hadn’t kept that gun leveled over my knee—­” He tried to smile, knowing that with every second the end might come for them from out of the gray mist of moonlight and shadow that shrouded the shore.  “It was a one-man job, sneaking out like that, and there’s sure a bunch of them coming up fast to take a hand in the game.  It’s up to us to hit the high spots, my dear—­an’ you might pray God to give us time for a start.”

If he had hoped to keep from her the full horror of their situation, he knew, as he placed her on the sledge, that he had failed.  Her eyes told him that.  Intuitively she had guessed at the heart of the thing, and suddenly her arms reached up about his neck as he bent over her and against his breast he heard the sobbing cry that she was trying hard to choke back.  Under the cloud of her hair her warm, parted lips lay for a thrilling moment against his own, and then he sprang to the dogs.

They had already roused themselves and at his command began sullenly to drag their lame and exhausted bodies into trace formation.  As the sledge began to move he sent the long lash of the driving whip curling viciously over the backs of the pack and the pace increased.  Straight ahead of them ran the white trail of the Coppermine, and they were soon following this with the eagerness of a team on the homeward stretch.  As Philip ran behind he made a fumbling inventory of the loose rifle cartridges in the pocket