It must at times have been
worse than death--that yearning to hear a human voice, to have a
human creature to speak to, though never had he loved man or
woman. Which brings us at last to the final tremendous climax in
Bram's life--to the girl, and the other man.
CHAPTER II
The other man was Raine--Philip Raine.
To-night he sat in Pierre Breault's cabin, with Pierre at the
opposite side of the table between them, and the cabin's sheet
iron stove blazing red just beyond. It was a terrible night
outside. Pierre, the fox hunter, had built his shack at the end of
a long slim forefinger of scrub spruce that reached out into the
Barren, and to-night the wind was wailing and moaning over the
open spaces in a way that made Raine shiver. Close to the east was
Hudson's Bay--so close that a few moments before when Raine had
opened the cabin door there came to him the low, never-ceasing
thunder of the under-currents fighting their way down through the
Roes Welcome from the Arctic Ocean, broken now and then by a
growling roar as the giant forces sent a crack, like a great
knife, through one of the frozen mountains.
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