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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Golden Snare"

She
was tightly imprisoned in the skin, but all at once he felt one of
her hands work its way out of the warmth of it and lay against his
cheek. It did not move away from his face. Out of her soul and
body there passed through that contact of her hand the confession
that made him equal to fighting the world. For many minutes after
that neither of them spoke. The moan of the wind was growing less
and less in the treetops, and once Philip saw a pale break where
the clouds had split asunder in the sky. The storm was at an end--
and it was almost dawn. In a quarter of an hour the shot like snow
of the blizzard had changed to big soft flakes that dropped
straight out of the clouds in a white deluge. By the time day came
their trail would be completely hidden from the eyes of the
Eskimos. Because of that Philip traveled as swiftly as the
darkness and the roughness of the forest would allow him. As
nearly as he could judge he kept due east. For a considerable time
he did not feel the weight of the precious burden in his arms.


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