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member when I dreamed that Carabobo planter was sticking a knife into you, Phil?--and the next day he tried it? Well, I've had a funny dream, I want to sleep on this letter. I may want to sleep on it for a week. Better turn in if you expect to get a wink between now and morning." For half an hour after he had undressed and extinguished the light Philip lay awake reviewing the incidents of his night's adventure. He was certain that his letter was in the hands of Pierre and Jeanne, but he was not so sure that they would respond to it. He half expected that they would not, and yet he felt a deep sense of satisfaction in what he had done. If he met them again he would not be quite a stranger. And that he would meet them he was not only confident, but determined. If they did not appear in Fort Churchill he would hunt out their camp. He found himself asking a dozen questions, none of which he could answer. Who was this girl who had come like a queen from out of the wilderness, and this man who bore with him the manner of a courtier? Was it possible, after all, that they were of the forests? And where was Fort o' God? He had never heard of it before, and as he thought of Jeanne's strange, rich dress, of the heliotrope-scented handkerchief, of the old-fashioned rapier at Pierre's side, and of the exquisite grace with which the girl had left him he wondered if such a place as this Fort o' God must be could exist in the heart of the desolate northland. Pierre had said that they had come from Fort o' God. But were they a part of it? He fell asleep, the resolution formed in his mind to investigate as soon as he found the opportunity. There would surely be those at Churchill who would know these people; if not, they would know of Fort o' God. Philip found Gregson awake and dressed when he rolled out of his bunk a few hours later. Gregson had breakfast ready. "You're a good one to have company," growled the artist. "When you go out mooning again please take me along, will you? Chuck your head in that pail of water and let's eat. I'm starved." Philip noticed that his companion had tacked the sketch against one of the logs above the table. "Pretty good for imagination, Greggy," he said, nodding. "Burke will jump at that if you do it in colors." "Burke won't get it," replied Gregson, soberly, seating himself at the table. "It won't be for sale." "Why?" Gregson waited until Philip had seated himself before he answe
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