Philip took his former position on the sledge, with Bram
behind him.
Never in all the years afterward did he forget that day. As the
hours passed it seemed to him that neither man nor beast could
very long stand the strain endured by Bram and his wolves. At
times Bram rode on the sledge for short distances, but for the
most part he was running behind, or at the head of the pack. For
the pack there was no rest. Hour after hour it surged steadily
onward over the endless plain, and whenever the wolves sagged for
a moment in their traces Brain's whip snapped over their gray
backs and his voice rang out in fierce exhortation. So hard was
the frozen crust of the Barren that snowshoes were no longer
necessary, and half a dozen times Philip left the sledge and ran
with the wolf-man and his pack until he was winded. Twice he ran
shoulder to shoulder with Bram.
It was in the middle of the afternoon that his compass told him
they were no longer traveling north--but almost due west. Every
quarter of an hour after that he looked at his compass.
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