Twice in the stillness of his long
vigil he heard strange cries. Once it was the cry of a beast. The
second time it was that of a man.
The second day, with dogs refreshed, they traveled faster, and it
was this night that they camped in the edge of timber and built a
huge fire. It was such a fire as illumined the space about them
for fifty paces or more, and it was into this light that Bram
Johnson stalked, so suddenly and so noiselessly that a sharp
little cry sprang from Celie's lips, and Olaf and Philip and the
Duke of Rugni stared in wide-eyed amazement. In his right hand the
wolf-man bore a strange object. It was an Eskimo coat, tied into
the form of a bag, and in the bottom of this improvision was a
lump half the size of a water pail. Bram seemed oblivious of all
presence but that of Celie. His eyes were on her alone as he
advanced and with a weird sound in his throat deposited the bundle
at her feet. In another moment he was gone. The Swede rose slowly
from where he was sitting, and speaking casually to Celie, took
the wolf-man's gift up in his hands.
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