are fighting--"

MacDougall strode up from his post beside the door, where he had been
waiting for the appearance of Jeanne.

"Firing--off there," he said. "What does it mean?"

"We must wait and see," replied Philip. "Send two of your men to
investigate, Mac. I will rejoin you after I have taken Miss d'Arcambal
over to Cassidy's wife."

He moved away quickly with Jeanne. On a sudden rise of the wind from
the south the firing came to them more distinctly. Then it died away,
and ended in three or four intermittent shots. For the space of a dozen
seconds a strange stillness followed, and then over the mountain top,
where there was still a faint glow in the sky, there came the low,
quavering, triumphal cry of the Crees: a cry born of the forest itself,
mournful even in its joy, only half human--almost like a far-away burst
of tongue from a wolf pack on the hunt trail. And after that there was
an unbroken silence.

"It is over," breathed Philip.

He felt Jeanne's fingers tighten about his own.

"No one will ever know," he continued. "Even MacDougall will not guess
what has happened out there--to-night."

He stopped a dozen paces from Cassidy's cabin. The windows were aglow,
and they could hear the laughter and play of Cassidy's two children
within. Gently he drew Jeanne to him.

"You will stay here to-night, dear," he said. "To-morrow we will go to
Fort o' God."

"You must take me home to-night," whispered Jeanne, looking up into his
face. "I must go, Philip. Send some one with me, and you can come--in
the morning--with Pierre--"

She put her hand to his face again, in the sweet touch that told more
of her love than a thousand words.

"You understand, dear," she went on, seeing the anxiety in his eyes. "I
have the strength--to-night. I must return to father, and he will know
everything--when you come to Fort o' God."

"I will send MacDougall with you," said Philip, after a moment. "And
then I will follow--"

"With Pierre."

"Yes, with Pierre."

For a brief space longer they stood outside of Cassidy's cabin, and
then Philip, lifting her face, said gently:

"Will you kiss me, dear? It is the first time."

He bent down, and Jeanne's lips reached his own.

"No, it is not the first time," she confessed, in a whisper. "Not since
that day--when I thought you were dying--after we came through the
rapids--"

Five minutes later Philip returned to MacDougall. Roberts, Henshaw,
Cassidy, and Lecault were wit