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.