Suddenly the night was broken by another sound, the sharp, explosive crack of rifles. They could hear the beat of bullets against the log wall of the cabin. One crashed through the door, tearing away a splinter as wide as a man's arm, and as MacVeigh nodded to the path of the bullet he laughed. Pelliter had heard that laugh before. He knew what it meant. He knew what the death-whiteness of MacVeigh's face meant. It was not fear, but something more terrible than fear. His own face was flushed. That is the difference in men. MacVeigh suddenly darted across the danger zone to the opposite half of the cabin. "If that's your game, here goes," he cried. "Now, damn y', you're so anxious to fight-- get at it 'n' fight!" He spoke the last words to Pelliter. Billy always swore when he went into action. XI THE NIGHT OF PERIL On his own side of the cabin Pelliter began tugging at a small, thin block laid between two of the logs. The shooting outside had ceased when the two men opened up the loopholes that commanded a range seaward. Almost immediately it began again, the dull red flashes showing the location of the Eskimos, who had drawn back to the ridge that sloped down to the Bay. As the last of five shots left his Remington Billy pulled in his gun and faced across to Pelliter, who was already reloading. "Pelly, I don't want to croak," he said, "but this is the last of Law at Fullerton Point-- for you and me. Look at that!" He raised the muzzle of his rifle to one of the logs over his head. Pelliter could see the fresh splinters sticking out. "They've got some heavy calibers," continued Billy, "and they've hidden behind the slope, where they're safe from us for a thousand years. As soon as it grows light enough to see they'll fill this shack as full of holes as an old cheese." As if to verify his words a single shot rang out and a bullet plowed through a log so close to Pelliter that the splinters flew into his face. "I know these little devils, Pelly," went on MacVeigh. "If they were Nuna-talmutes you could scare 'em with a sky-rocket. But they're Kogmollocks. They've murdered the crews of half a dozen whalers, and I shouldn't wonder if they'd got the kid in some such way. They wouldn't let us off now, even if we gave her up. It wouldn't do. They know better than to let the Law get any evidence against them. If we're killed and the cabin burned, who's going to say what happened to us? There's just two things for us to do--" Another fusillade of shots came from the snow ridge, and a third bullet crashed into the cabin. "Just two things," Billy went on, as he completely shaded the dimly burning lamp. "We can stay here 'n' die-- or run." "Run!" This was an unknown word in the Service, and in Pelliter's voice there were both amazement and contempt. "Yes, run," said Billy, quietly. "Run-- for the kid's sake." It was almost dark in the cabin, and Pelliter came close to his companion. "You mean--"