hem there was another and more powerful motive. He confessed to
himself that he would willingly accept double the chances against him
to achieve Jeanne's rescue without assistance and to accompany her to
Fort o' God. The thought of their being together, of the girl's
companionship--perhaps for days--thrilled him with exquisite
anticipation. An hour or so ago he had been satisfied in the assurance
that he would see her for a few minutes on the cliff. Since then fate
had played his way. Jeanne was his own, to save, to defend, to carry on
to Fort o' God.

Not for a moment did he hesitate at the danger ahead of him, and yet
his pursuit was filled with caution. Gregson, the diplomat, would have
seen the necessity of halting at the ship for help; Philip was
confident in himself. He knew that he would have at least three against
him, for he was satisfied that the man whom he had wounded on the cliff
was still in fighting trim. There might be others whom he had not taken
into account.

He passed so close under the stern of the ship that his canoe scraped
against her side. For a few minutes the vessel had obstructed his view,
but now he saw again, a quarter of a mile distant, the craft which he
was pursuing. Jeanne's captors were heading straight for the river, and
as the canoe was now partly broadside to him he could easily make out
the figures in her, but not distinctly enough to make sure of their
number. He shoved out boldly into the moonlight, and, instead of
following in his former course, he turned at a sharp angle in the
direction of the shore. If the others saw him, which was probable, they
would think that he was making a landing from the ship. Once he was in
the deep fringe of shadow along the shore he could redouble his
exertions and draw nearer to them without being observed.

No sooner had he readied the sheltering gloom than he bent to his
paddle and the light birch-bark fairly hissed through the water. Not
until he found himself abreast of the pursued did it occur to him that
he could beat them out to the mouth of the Churchill and lie in wait
for them. Every stroke of his paddle widened the distant between him
and the larger canoe. Fifteen minutes later he reached the edge of the
huge delta of wild rice and reeds through which the sluggish volume of
the river emptied into the Bay. The chances were that the approaching
canoe would take the nearest channel into the main stream, and Philip
concealed himself so t