From a tree
he could fight the pack and kill them one by one. He had a rifle
and a revolver, and plenty of ammunition. The advantage would lay
all with him. But if he was treed, and Bram happened to have a
rifle--
He put on the heavy coat he had thrown off near the fire, filled
his pockets with loose ammunition, and hunted for the tree he
wanted. He found it a hundred yards from his camp. It was a
gnarled and wind-blown spruce six inches in diameter, standing in
an open. In this open Philip knew that he could play havoc with
the pack. On the other hand, if Bram possessed a rifle, the gamble
was against him. Perched in the tree, silhouetted against the
stars that made the night like day, he would be an easy victim.
Bram could pick him off without showing himself. But it was his
one chance, and he took it.
CHAPTER VI
An hour later Philip looked at his watch. It was close to
midnight. In that hour his nerves had been keyed to a tension that
was almost at the breaking point. Not a sound came from off the
Barren or from out of the scrub timber that did not hold a mental
and physical shock for him.
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