They were restless and whining, and the snap of their jaws was like the clicking of castanets.

He caught the glare of twenty pairs of eyes fastened on his retreat and involuntarily he shrank back that they might not see him.

He knew that it was Bram who was holding them back, and yet he had heard no word, no command.

Even as he stared a long snakelike shadow uncurled itself swiftly in the air and the twenty foot lash of Bram's caribou-gut whip cracked viciously over the heads of the pack.

At the warning of the whip the horde of beasts scattered, and Bram's voice came again.
"M'sieu--ze revolv'-- ze knife--or I loose ze wolve--" The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Philip's revolver flew through the opening and dropped in the snow.
"There it is, old man," announced Philip.