Every wolf was in harness, and Bram rode on the sledge.
Philip drew a deep breath.

He was learning new things about Bram Johnson.

First he assured himself that Bram was not afraid, and that his disappearance could not be called a flight.

If fear of capture had possessed him he would not have returned for his meat.

Suddenly he recalled Pierre Breault's story of how Bram had carried off the haunches of a bull upon his shoulders as easily as a child might have carried a toy gun, and he wondered why Bram--instead of returning for the meat this night--had not carried the meat to his sledge.