He dropped on his
knees beside the dunnage bag and mumbling thickly as he worked he
began emptying its contents upon the floor.
Philip looked at the girl. She was looking at him now. Her hands
were clutched at her breast, and in her face and attitude there
was a wordless entreaty for him to understand. The truth came to
him like a flash. For some reason she had forced herself to appear
that way to the wolf-man. She had forced herself to smile, forced
the look of gladness into her face, and the words from her lips.
And now she was trying to tell him what it meant, and pointing to
Bram as he knelt with his huge head and shoulders bent over the
dunnage bag on the floor she exclaimed in a low, tense voice:
"Tossi--tossi--han er tossi!"
It was useless. He could not understand, and it was impossible for
him to hide the bewilderment in his face. All at once an
inspiration came to him. Bram's back was toward him, and he
pointed to the sticks of firewood. His pantomime was clear. Should
he knock the wolf-man's brains out as he knelt there?
He could see that his question sent a thrill of alarm through her.
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