that
opening ahead, I shall jump out, and you can go on alone."

"As you say--my Captain Jeanne," surrendered Philip, a little dizzily.

Jeanne guided the canoe to the shore, and was the first to spring out,
while Philip steadied the light craft with his paddle. She pointed to
the luggage.

"We will want the tent--everything," she said, "because we are going to
camp here until to-morrow."

Once on shore, Philip's dizziness left him. He pulled the canoe high up
on the bank, and then Jeanne and he set off, side by side, to explore
the high, wooded ground back from the river. They followed a well-worn
moose trail, and two or three hundred yards from the stream came upon a
small opening cluttered by great rocks and surrounded by clumps of
birch, spruce, and banskian pine. The moose trail crossed this rough
open space; and, following it to the opposite side, Philip and Jeanne
came upon a clear, rippling little stream, scarcely two yards in width,
hidden in places under thick caribou moss and jungles of seedling
pines. It was an ideal camping spot, and Jeanne gave a little cry of
delight when they found the cold water of the creek.

Philip then returned to the river, concealed the canoe, covered up all
traces of their landing, and began to carry the camping outfit back to
the open. The small silk tent for Jeanne's use he set up in a little
grassy corner of the clearing, and built their fire a dozen paces from
it. With a sort of thrilling pleasure he began cutting balsam boughs
for Jeanne's bed. He cut armful after armful, and it was growing dusk
in the forest by the time he was done. In the glow and the heat of the
fire Jeanne's cheeks were as pink as an apple. She had turned a big
flat rock into a table, and as she busied herself about this she burst
suddenly into a soft ripple of song; then, remembering that it was not
Pierre who was near her, she stopped. Philip, with his last armful of
bedding, was directly behind her, and he laughed happily at her over
the green mass of balsam when she turned and saw him looking at her.

"You like this?" he asked.

"It is glorious!" cried Jeanne, her eyes flashing. She seemed to grow
taller before him, and stood with her head thrown back, lips parted,
gazing upon the wilderness about her. "It is glorious!" she repeated,
breathing deeply. "There is nothing in the whole world that could make
me give this up, M'sieur Philip. I was born in it. I want to die in it.
Only--"

Her face