oments Pierre's head hung limp against his shoulder.

"What is it, Pierre?" he urged. "Tell me--quick! They have gone with
Jeanne!"

Pierre's body grew rigid. With one great effort he seemed to marshal
all of his strength, and straightened himself.

"Listen, M'sieur," he said, speaking calmly. "They set upon us as we
were going to meet you at the rock. There were four. One of them is
dead--back there. The others--with Jeanne--have gone in the canoe. It
is death--worse than death--for her--"

His body writhed. In a passion he strove to rise to his feet. Then with
a groan he sank back, and for a moment Philip thought he was dying.

"I will go, Pierre," he cried. "I will bring her back. I swear it."

Pierre's hand detained him as he went to rise.

"You swear--"

"Yes."

"At the next break--there is a canoe. They have gone for the
Churchill--"

Pierre's voice was growing weaker. In a spasm of sudden fear at the
dizziness which was turning the night black for him he clutched at
Philip's arm.

"If you save her, M'sieur, do not bring her back," he whispered,
hoarsely. "Take her to Fort o' God. Lose not an hour--not a minute.
Trust no one. Hide yourselves. Fight--kill--but take her to Fort o'
God! You will do this--M'sieur--you promise--"

He fell back limp. Philip lowered him gently, holding his head so that
he could look into the staring eyes that were still open and
understanding.

"I will go, Pierre," he said. "I will take her to Fort o' God. And
you--"

A shadow was creeping over Pierre's eyes. He was still fighting to
understand, fighting to hold for another breath or two the
consciousness that was fast slipping from him.

"Listen," cried Philip, striving to rouse him. "You will not die. The
bullet grazed your head, and the wound has already stopped bleeding.
To-morrow you must go to Churchill and hunt up a man named Gregson--the
man I was with when you and Jeanne came to see the ship. Tell him that
an important thing has happened, and that he must tell the others I
have gone to the camps. He will understand. Tell him--tell him--"

He struggled to find some final word for Gregson. Pierre still looked
at him, his eyes half closed now.

Philip bent close down.

"Tell him," he said, "that I am on the trail of Lord Fitzhugh!"

Scarcely had he uttered the name when Pierre's closing eyes shot open.
A groaning cry burst from his lips, and, as if that name had aroused
the last spark of life and strength