Philip's mind leapt to a swift conclusion. The Eskimos had
ambushed Bram, and they believed that only the girl was in the
cabin. Intuitively he guessed how the superstitious little brown
men of the north feared the madman's wolves. One by one they were
picking them off with their javelins from outside the corral.
As he looked a head and pair of shoulders rose suddenly above the
top of the sapling barrier, an arm shot out and he caught the
swift gleam of a javelin as it buried itself in the thick of the
pack. In a flash the head and shoulders of the javelin-thrower had
disappeared, and in that same moment Philip heard a low cry behind
him. Celie had returned to the window. She had seen what he had
seen, and her breath came suddenly in a swift and sobbing
excitement. In amazement he saw that she was no longer pale. A
vivid flush had gathered in each of her cheeks and her eyes blazed
with a dark fire. One of her hands caught his arm and her fingers
pinched his flesh. He stared dumbly for a moment at the strange
transformation in her.
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