He was
not afraid of Bram. He would quite cheerfully have gone out and
fought open-handedly for his man, even though he had seen that
Bram was a giant. This, much he told himself, as he fingered the
breech of his rifle, and listened.
But it was not Bram who would fight. The wolves would come. He
probably would not see Bram again. He would hear only his laugh,
or his great voice urging on his pack, as Corporal Lee and the
other man had heard it.
That Bram would not return for vengeance never for a moment
entered his analysis of the situation. By firing after his man
Philip had too clearly disclosed his identity and his business;
and Bram, fighting for his own existence, would be a fool not to
rid himself of an immediate and dangerous enemy.
And then, for the first time since he had returned from the edge
of the Barren, Philip saw the man again as he had seen him
standing under the white glow of the stars. And it struck him, all
at once, that Bram had been unarmed. Comprehension of this fact,
slow as it had been, worked a swift and sudden hope in him, and
his eyes took in quickly the larger trees about him.
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