In this moment Philip knew that the time to act was at hand. His
fingers gripped tighter about the butt of his revolver as he
stepped forward out of the shadow.
Bram would have seen him then, but in that same instant he had
flung back his head and from his throat there went forth a cry
such as Philip had never heard from man or beast before. It began
deep in Bram's cavernous chest, like the rolling of a great drum,
and ended in a wailing shriek that must have carried for miles
over the open plain--the call of the master to his pack, of the
man-beast to his brothers. It may be that even before the cry was
finished some super-instinct had warned Bram Johnson of a danger
which he had not seen. The cry was cut short. It ended in a
hissing gasp, as steam is cut off by a valve. Before Philip's
startled senses had adjusted themselves to action Bram was off,
and as his huge strides carried him swiftly through the starlight
the cry that had been on his lips was replaced by the strange, mad
laugh that Pierre Breault had described with a shiver of fear.
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