CHAPTER XXII

THE WEIRD CRY Ted Scott’s feet turned in the direction of the call. He cupped his hands about his mouth and shouted: “Hello there! Where are you?” “Help!” came the voice again. Ted thought it sounded closer. “Oh, he-elp!” The cry was so faint, so weird, so inhuman, coming as it did from the heart of the blizzard, that Ted felt the hair creep at the base of his scalp. Still he pressed forward, feeling his way cautiously, calling out at every few steps. Presently he stumbled over something and stretched at full lengt…