who had
saved the spark of life in her chilled little body years and years ago.
And yet in his own grief he unconsciously rejoiced that it was a man
like Pierre who suffered with him.

This thought of Pierre strengthened him, and he walked faster, and
breathed more deeply of the clear night air. He had lost in the fight
for Jeanne as he had lost in many other fights; but, after all, there
was another and bigger fight ahead of him, which he would begin
to-morrow. Thoughts of his men, of his camps, and of this struggle
through which he must pass to achieve success raised him above his
depression, and stirred his blood with a growing exhilaration. And
Jeanne--was she hopelessly lost to him? He dared to ask himself the
question half an hour after he had separated from Pierre, and his mind
flew back to the portrait-room where he had told Jeanne of his love,
and where for a moment he had seen in her eyes and face the sweet
surrender that had given him a glimpse of his paradise. But what did
the sudden change mean? And after that--the scene in the starlight?

A quickening of his pulse was the answer to these questions. Jeanne had
told him there were only two men at Fort o' God, Pierre and her father.
Then who could be this third? A lover, whom she met clandestinely? He
shivered, and began loading his pipe as he walked. He was certain that
the master of Fort o' God did not know of the tryst beyond the rock,
and he was equally certain that the girl was unaware of Pierre's
knowledge of the meeting. Pierre had remained hidden, like himself, and
he had given Philip to understand that it was not the first time he had
looked upon the meetings of Jeanne and the man they had seen from the
shadow of the rock. And yet, in spite of all evidence, he could not
lose faith in Jeanne.

Suddenly he saw something ahead of him which changed for a moment the
uncomfortable trend of his thoughts. It was a pale streak, rising above
the level of the trail, and stretching diagonally across the plain to
the east. With an exclamation of surprise Philip hastened his steps,
and a moment later stood among the fresh workings of his men. When he
had left for Churchill this streak, which was the last stretch of
road-bed between them and the surveyed line of the Hudson's Bay
Railway, had ended two miles to the south and west. In a little over a
month MacDougall had pushed it on the trail, and well across it in the
direction of Gray Beaver Lake. In that time