He
tried to free himself of that thought, but it clung to him with a
tenaciousness that oppressed him with a grim and ugly foreboding.
What a monstrous fate for a woman! He shivered. For a few moments
every instinct in his body fought to assure him that such a thing
could not happen. And yet he knew that it COULD happen. A woman up
there--with Bram! A woman with hair like spun gold--and that giant
half-mad enormity of a man!
He clenched his hands at the picture his excited brain was
painting for him. He wanted to jump from the sledge, overtake
Bram, and demand the truth from him. He was calm enough to realize
the absurdity of such action. Upon his own strategy depended now
whatever answer he might make to the message chance had sent to
him through the golden snare.
For an hour he marked Bram's course by his compass. It was
straight north. Then Bram changed the manner of his progress by
riding in a standing position behind Philip. With his long whip he
urged on the pack until they were galloping over the frozen level
of the plain at a speed that must have exceeded ten miles an hour.
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