Near these skins were the haunches of caribou meat, and so close to him that he might have reached out and touched it was Bram's club.

At the side of the club lay a rifle.

It was of the old breech-loading, single-shot type, and Philip wondered why Bram had destroyed his own modern weapon instead of keeping it in place of this ancient Company relic.

It also made him think of night before last, when he had chosen for his refuge a tree out in the starlight.
The club, even more than the rifle, bore marks of use.

It was of birch, and three feet in length.