Her naked feet were buried in the snow.

Her arms, partly bared, were reaching out to him in the gray Arctic dawn, and then wildly and moaningly there came to him-- "Philip--Philip--" He sprang to her, a choking cry on his own lips.

This, after all, was the last proof--when she had thought that their enemies were killing him SHE HAD COME TO HIM.

He was sobbing her name like a boy as he ran back with her in his arms.

Almost fiercely he wrapped the bearskin about her again, and then crushed her so closely in his arms that he could hear her gasping faintly for breath.