Out of that finger of
forest they were coming--Bram and his wolves! The pack was free,
spreading out fan-shape, coming like the wind! Behind them was
Bram--a wild and monstrous figure against the whiteness of the
plain, bearing in his hand a giant club. His yell came to them. It
rose above all other sound, like the cry of a great beast. The
wolves came faster, and then--
The truth fell upon those in the cabin with a suddenness that
stopped the beating of their hearts.
Bram Johnson and his wolves were attacking the Eskimos!
From the thrilling spectacle of the giant mad-man charging over
the plain behind his ravenous beasts Philip shifted his amazed
gaze to the Eskimos. They were no longer concealing themselves.
Palsied by a strange terror, they were staring at the onrushing
horde and the shrieking wolf-man. In those first appalling moments
of horror and stupefaction not a gun was raised or a shot fired.
Then there rose from the ranks of the Kogmollocks a strange and
terrible cry, and in another moment the plain between the forest
and the snow-ridge was alive with fleeing creatures in whose heavy
brains surged the monstrous thought that they were attacked not by
man and beast, but by devils.
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