“He was wounded in the arm?”

“And on the head,” said Philip.  “It was only a scalp wound, however—­nothing at all, except that it dazed him a little at the time.”

Jeanne pointed to the reflection of the fire on the river.

“If we should be pursued?” she suggested.

“There is no danger,” assured Philip, though he had left the flap of his revolver holster unbuttoned.  “They will search for us between their camp and Churchill.”

“Citius venit periculum cum contemnitur,” remonstrated Jeanne, half smiling.

She was pale, but Philip saw that she was making a tremendous effort to appear brave and cheerful.

“Perhaps you are right,” laughed Philip, “but I swear that I don’t know what you mean.  I suppose you picked that lingo up among the Indians.”

He caught the faintest gleam of Jeanne’s white teeth again as she bent her head.

“I have a tutor at home,” she explained, softly.  “You shall meet him when we reach Fort o’ God.  He is the most wonderful man in the world.”

Her words sent a strange chill through Philip.  They were filled with an exquisite tenderness, a pride that sent her eyes back to his, glowing.  The questions that he had meant to ask died and faded away.  He thought of her words of a few minutes before, when he had asked about Fort o’ God.  She had said, “My father, Pierre, and I, with one other, live there alone.”  The other was the tutor, the man who had come from civilization to teach this beautiful girl those things which had amazed him, and this man was the most wonderful man in the world.  He had no excuse for the feelings which were aroused in him.  Only he knew, as he rose to his feet, that a part of his old burden seemed suddenly to have returned to his shoulders, and the old loneliness was beating at the door of his heart.  He rearranged the pack in silence, and the strength and joy of life were gone from his arms when he helped Jeanne back to her place among the bear-skins.  He did not notice that her eyes were watching him curiously, or that her lips trembled once or twice, as if about to speak words which never came.  Jeanne, as well as he, seemed to have discovered something which neither dared to reveal in that last five minutes on the shore.

“There is one thing that I must know,” said Philip, when they were about to start, “and that is where to find Fort o’ God?  Is it on the Churchill?”

“It is on the Little Churchill, M’sieur, near Waskiaowaka Lake.”

Darkness concealed the effect of her words upon Philip.  For a moment he stared like one struck dumb.  He stifled the exclamation that rose to his lips.  He felt himself trembling.  He knew that if he spoke his voice would betray him.