Until the boat ran close up under the pier its sail hid the occupants.  While the canvas still fluttered in the light wind Bludsoe sprang from the bow out upon the rocks with a rope.  Three or four of his men followed.  With a rattle of blocks and rings the sheet dropped like a huge white curtain, and Philip took a step forward, scarce restraining the exclamation that forced itself to his lips at the picture which it revealed.  Standing on the broad rail, her slender form poised for the quick upward step, one hand extended to Bludsoe, was Eileen Brokaw!  In another instant she was upon the pier, facing the strange people before her, while her father clambered out of the boat behind.  There was a smile of expectancy on her lips as she scanned the dark, silent faces of the forest people.  Philip knew that she was looking for him.  His pulse quickened.  He turned for a moment to see the effect of the girl’s appearance upon Gregson.

The artist’s two hands had gripped his arm.  They closed now until his fingers were like cords of steel.  His face was white, his lips set into thin lines.  For a breath he stood thus, while Miss Brokaw’s scrutiny traveled nearer to them.  Then, suddenly, he released his hold and darted back among the half-breeds and Indians, his face turning to Philip’s in one quick, warning appeal.

He was not a moment too soon, for scarce had he gone when Miss Brokaw caught sight of Philip’s tall form at the foot of the pier.  Philip did not see the signal which she gave him.  He was staring at the line of faces ahead of him.  Two people had worked their way through that line, and suddenly every muscle in his body became tense with excitement and joy.  They were Pierre and Jeanne!

He caught his breath at what happened then.  He saw Jeanne falter for a moment.  He noticed that she was now dressed like the others about her, and that Pierre, who stood at her shoulder, was no longer the fine gentleman of the rock.  The half-breed bent over her, as if whispering to her, and then Jeanne ran out from those about her to Eileen, her beautiful face flushed with joy and welcome as she reached out her arms to the other woman.  Philip saw a sudden startled look leap into Miss Brokaw’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.  She stared at the forest girl, drew herself haughtily erect, and, with a word which he could not hear, turned to Bludsoe and her father.  For an instant Jeanne stood as if some one had struck her a blow.  Then, slowly, she turned.  The flush was gone from her face.  Her beautiful mouth was quivering, and Philip fancied that he could hear the low sobbing of her breath.  With a cry in which he uttered no name, but which was meant for her, he sprang forward into the clear space of the pier.  She saw him, and darted back among her people.  He would have followed, but Miss Brokaw was coming to him now, her hand held out to him, and a step behind were Brokaw and the factor.

“Philip!” she cried.