ture. He had seen them, but not
so beautiful, in Cree women. He thought of Eileen Brokaw's eyes as he
looked at Jeanne's. They were very beautiful, but they were DIFFERENT.
Jeanne's could not lie.

On a white napkin Jeanne had spread out cold meat, bread, pickles, and
cheese, and Philip brought her the coffee. He noticed that she was
resting a little of her weight upon her injured ankle.

"Better?" he asked, indicating the bandaged ankle with a nod of his
head.

"Much," replied Jeanne, as tersely. "I'm going to try standing upon it
in a few minutes. But not now. I'm starved."

She gave him his coffee and began eating with a relish that made him
want to sit back and watch her. Instead, he joined her; and they ate
like two hungry children. It was when she turned him out a second cup
of coffee that Philip noticed her hand tremble a little.

"If Pierre was here we would be quite happy, M'sieur Philip," she said,
uneasily. "I can't understand why he asked you to run away with me to
Fort o' God. If he is not badly hurt, as you have told me, why do we
not hide and wait for him? He would overtake us to-morrow."

"There--there was no time to talk over plans," answered Philip,
inwardly embarrassed for a moment by the unexpectedness of Jeanne's
question. A vision of Pierre, bleeding and unconscious on the cliff,
leaped into his mind, and the thought that he had lied to Jeanne and
must still make her believe what was half false sickened him. There
was, after all, a chance that Pierre would never again come up the
Churchill. "Perhaps Pierre thought we would be hotly pursued," he went
on, seeing no escape from the demand in the girl's eyes. "In that event
it would be best for me to get you to Fort o' God as quickly as
possible. You must remember that Pierre was thinking of you. He can
care for himself. It may take him two or three days to get back the
strength of--of his arm," he finished, blindly.

"He was wounded in the arm?"

"And on the head," said Philip. "It was only a scalp wound,
however--nothing at all, except that it dazed him a little at the time."

Jeanne pointed to the reflection of the fire on the river.

"If we should be pursued?" she suggested.

"There is no danger," assured Philip, though he had left the flap of
his revolver holster unbuttoned. "They will search for us between their
camp and Churchill."

"Citius venit periculum cum contemnitur," remonstrated Jeanne, half
smiling.

She was pale, but P