the master of Fort o' God," replied Pierre,
frankly. "So we will go in quietly, and make no disturbance, while your
way is being paved, as you call it."

He walked ahead, with Philip following so closely that he could have
touched him. He made out more distinctly now the lines of the huge
black edifice from which the lights shone. It was a massive structure
of logs, two stories high, a half of it almost completely hidden in the
impenetrable shadow of a great wall of rock. Philip's eyes traveled up
this wall, and he was convinced that he stood under the rock upon whose
towering crest he had seen the last reflection of the evening sun.
About him there were no signs of life or of other habitation. Pierre
moved swiftly. They passed under a small lighted window that was a foot
above Philip's head, and turned around the corner of the building. Here
all was blackness.

Pierre went straight to a door, and uttered at low word of satisfaction
when he found that it was not barred. He opened it, and reached out a
guiding hand to Philip's arm. Philip entered, and the door closed
softly behind him. He felt the flow of warm air in his face, and his
moccasined feet trod upon something soft and velvety. Faintly, as
though coming from a great distance, he heard a voice singing. It was a
woman's voice, but he knew that it was not Jeanne's.

In spite of himself his heart was beating excitedly. The mystery of
Fort o' God was about him, warm and subtle, like a strange spirit,
sending through him the thrill of anticipation, a hundred fancies,
little fears. Pierre advanced, still guiding him; then he stopped, and
chuckled softly in the darkness. The distant voice had stopped singing,
and there came in place of it the loud barking of a dog, an
unintelligible sound of a voice, and then quiet. Jeanne had sprung her
surprise.

Pierre led the way to another room.

"This is to be your room, M'sieur," he explained. "Make yourself
comfortable. I have no doubt that the master of Fort o' God will wish
to see you very soon."

He struck a match as he spoke, and lighted a lamp. A moment more and he
was gone.

Philip looked about him. He was in a room fully twenty feet square,
furnished in a manner that drew from him an audible gasp of
astonishment. At one end of the room was a massive mahogany bed,
screened by heavy curtains which were looped back by silken cords. Near
the bed was an old-fashioned mahogany dresser, with a diamond-shaped
mirror, a