Until then he had not thought of
the other cabin--the cabin which Bram and he had passed on their
way in from the Barren. His heart rose up suddenly in his throat
and he wanted to shout. That cabin was their salvation! It was not
more than eight or ten miles away, and he was positive that he
could find it.
He ran swiftly through the increasing circle of light made by the
burning logs. If the Eskimos had not gone far some one of them
would surely see the red glow of the fire, and discovery now meant
death. In the edge of the trees, where the shadows were deep, he
paused and looked back. His hand fumbled where the left-pocket of
his coat would have been, and as he listened to the crackling of
the flames and stared into the heart of the red glow there smote
him with sudden and sickening force a realization of their
deadliest peril. In that twisting inferno of burning pitch was his
coat, and in the left-hand pocket of that coat WERE HIS MATCHES!
Fire! Out there in the open a seething, twisting mass of it,
taunting him with its power, mocking him as pitiless as the mirage
mocks a thirst-crazed creature of the desert.
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