He sprang to the door. Celie was only a step
behind him as he ran out, and was close at his side when he peered
around the end of the cabin.
"They must not see you," he made her understand. "It won't do any
good and when they see another man they may possibly get the idea
in their heads that you're not here. There can't be many of them
or they'd make quicker work of the wolves. I should say not more
than--"
"Se! Se!"
The warning came in a low cry from Celie's lips. A dark head was
appearing slowly above the top of the stockade, and Philip darted
suddenly out into the open. The Eskimo did not see him, and Philip
waited until he was on the point of hurling his javelin before he
made a sound. Then he gave a roar that almost split his throat. In
the same instant he began firing. The crack of his pistol and the
ferocious outcry he made sent the Eskimo off the stockade like a
ball hit by a club. The pack, maddened by their inability to reach
their enemies, turned like a flash. Warned by one experience,
Philip hustled Celie into the cabin.
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