Are
we any nearer to the end--to the big fight?"

"It is coming, M'sieur. I am more than ever certain of that. The third
night from this will tell us."

"And on that night--"

Philip waited expectantly.

"We will know," replied Jean in a voice which convinced him that the
half-breed would say no more. Then he added: "It will not be strange if
Josephine does not go with you on the sledge-drive to-morrow, M'sieur.
It will also be curious if there is not some change in her, for she has
been under a great strain. But make as if you did not see it. Pass your
time as much as possible with the master of Adare. Let him not guess.
And now I am going to ask you to let me go to bed. My head aches. It is
from the blow."

"And there is nothing I can do for you, Jean?'

"Nothing, M'sieur."

At the door Philip turned.

"I have got a grip on myself now, Jean," he said. "I won't fail you.
I'll do as you say. But remember, we are to have the fight at the end!"

In his room he sat up for a time and smoked. Then he went to bed. Half
a dozen times during the night he awoke from a restless slumber. Twice
he struck a match to look at his watch. It was still dark when he got
up and dressed. From five until six he tried to read. He was delighted
when Metoosin came to the door and told him that breakfast would be
ready in half an hour. This gave him just time to shave.

He expected to eat alone with Adare again this morning, and his heart
jumped with both surprise and joy when Josephine came out into the hall
to meet him. She was very pale. Her eyes told him that she had passed a
sleepless night. But she was smiling bravely, and when she offered him
her hand he caught her suddenly in his arms and held her close to his
breast while he kissed her lips, and then her shining hair.

"Philip!" she protested. "Philip--"

He laughed softly, and for a moment his face was close against hers.

"My brave little darling! I understand," he whispered. "I know what a
night you've had. But there's nothing to fear. Nothing shall harm you.
Nothing shall harm you, nothing, nothing!"

She drew away from him gently, and there was a mist in her eyes. But he
had brought a bit of colour into her face. And there was a glow behind
the tears. Then, her lip quivering, she caught his arm.

"Philip, the baby is sick--and I am afraid. I haven't told father.
Come!"

He went with her to the room at the end of the hall. The Indian woman
was crooning softly ov