ng. And he could feel that the muscles of
Captain's splendid body were tense and rigid.

Minutes passed. The owl hooted nearer; the wolf howled again, farther
away. Slowly the tremendous strain passed and Philip began to breathe
easier. He figured that Josephine and the half-breed had reached last
night's meeting-place. He had given them a margin of at least five
minutes--and nothing had happened. His knees were cramped, and he rose
to his feet, still holding Captain's chain. The tension was broken
among the beasts. They moved; whimpering sounds came to him; eyes
shifted uneasily in the gloom. Fully half an hour had passed when there
was a sudden movement among them. The points of green and opal fire
were turned from Philip, and to his ears came the clink of chains, the
movement of bodies, a subdued and menacing rumble from a score of
throats. Captain growled. Philip stared out into the darkness and
listened.

And then a voice came, quite near:

"Ho, M'sieur Philip!"

It was Jean! Philip's hand relaxed its clutch at Captain's collar, and
almost a groan of relief fell from his lips. Not until Jean's voice
came to him, quiet and unexcited, did he realize under what a strain he
had been.

"I am here," he said, moving slowly out of the pit.

On the edge of it, where the light shone down through an opening in the
spruce tops, he found Jean. Josephine was not with him. Eagerly Philip
caught the other's arm, and looked beyond him.

"Where is she?"

"Safe," replied Jean. "I left her at Adare House, and came to you. I
came quickly, for I was afraid that some one might shout in the night,
or fire a shot. Our business was done quickly to-night, M'sieur!"

He was looking straight into Philip's eyes, a cold, steady look that
told Philip what he meant before he had spoken the words.

"Our business was done quickly!" he repeated. "And it is coming!"

"The fight?"

"Yes."

"And Josephine knows? She understands?"

"No, M'sieur. Only you and I know. Listen: To-night I kneeled down in
darkness in my room, and prayed that the soul of my Iowaka might come
to me. I felt her near, M'sieur! It is strange--you may not
believe--but some day you may understand. And we were there together
for an hour, and I pleaded for her forgiveness, for the time had come
when I must break my oath to save our Josephine. And I could hear her
speak to me, M'sieur, as plainly as you hear that breath of wind in the
tree-tops yonder. Praise the Hol