She is--what you call
it--gwan-auch-ewin--so splendid! Out of the Cree you cannot speak it."

A tender glow filled Josephine's eyes as Jean began pulling up the pegs
of the tent.

"A little later I will tell you about Jean," she whispered. "But now,
go to your canoe. We will follow you in a few minutes."

He left her, knowing that she had other things to say to Jean which she
did not wish him to hear. As he turned toward the coulee he noticed
that she still held the opened letter in her hand.

There was not much for him to do when he reached his canoe. He threw
out his sleeping bag and tent, and arranged Josephine's robe and
pillows so that she would sit facing him. The knowledge that she was to
be with him, that they were joined in a pact which would make her his
constant companion, filled him with joyous visions and anticipations.
He did not stop to ask himself how long this mysterious association
might last, how soon it might come to the tragic end to which she had
foredoomed it. With the spirit of the adventurer who had more than once
faced death with a smile, he did not believe in burning bridges ahead
of him. He loved Josephine. To him this love had come as it had come to
Tristan and Isolde, to Paola and Francesca--sudden and irresistible,
but, unlike theirs, as pure as the air of the world which he breathed.
That he knew nothing of her, that she had not even revealed her full
name to him, did not affect the depth or sincerity of his emotion. Nor
had her frank avowal that he could expect no reward destroyed his hope.
The one big thought that ran through his brain now, as he arranged the
canoe, was that there was room for hope, and that she had been free to
accept the words he had spoken to her without dishonour to herself. If
she belonged to some other man she would not have asked him to play the
part of a husband. Her freedom and his right to fight for her was the
one consuming fact of significance to him just now. Beside that all
others were trivial and unimportant, and every drop of blood in his
veins was stirred by a strange exultation.

He found himself whistling again as he refolded his blankets and
straightened out his tent. When he had finished this last task he
turned to find Jean standing close behind him, his dark eyes watching
him closely. As he greeted the half-breed, Philip looked for Josephine.

"I am alone, M'sieur," said Jean, coming close to Philip. "I tricked
her into staying behind until