lighted up the black cap of the
mountain, and sent a thousand aurora fires flashing across the lake.
And Philip, as he ran swiftly through the camp toward the narrow trail
that led to that mountain-top, repeated over and over again the dying
words of Pierre--

"Jeanne--my Jeanne--my Jeanne--"

XXII

News of the double tragedy had swept through the camp, and there was a
crowd in front of the supply-house. Philip passed close to Thorpe's
house to avoid discovery, ran a hundred yards up the trail over which
Jeanne had fled a short time before, and then cut straight across
through the thin timber for the head of the lake. He felt no effort in
his running. Low bush whipped him in the face and left no sting. He was
not conscious that he was panting for breath when he came out in the
black shadow of the mountain. This night in itself had been a creation
for him, for out of grief and pain it had lifted him into a new life,
and into a happiness that seemed to fill him with the strength and the
endurance of five men. Jeanne loved him! The wonderful truth cried
itself out in his soul at every step he took, and he murmured it aloud
to himself, over and over again, as he ran.

The glow of the signal-fire lighted up the sky above him, and he
climbed up, higher and higher, scrambling swiftly from rock to rock,
until he saw the tips of the flames licking up into the sky. He had
come up the steepest and shortest side of the ridge, and when he
reached the top he lay upon his face for a moment, his breath almost
gone.

The fire was built against a huge dead pine, and the pine was blazing a
hundred feet in the air. He could feel its heat. The monster torch
illumined the barren cap of the rock from edge to edge, and he looked
about him for Jeanne. For a moment he did not see her, and her name
rose to his lips, to be stilled in the same breath by what he saw
beyond the burning pine. Through the blaze of the heat and fire fie
beheld Jeanne, standing close to the edge of the mountain, gazing into
the south and west. He called her name. Jeanne turned toward him with a
startled cry, and Philip was at her side. The girl's face was white and
strained. Her lips were twisted in pain at sight of him. She spoke no
word, but a strange sound rose in her throat, a welling-up of the
sudden despair which the fire-light revealed in her eyes. For one
moment they stood apart, and Philip tried to speak. And then, suddenly,
he reached out and dre