been saved if Josephine had
married Lang. Why didn't she?"

For an instant every muscle in Jean's body became as taut as a
bowstring. He hunched a little forward, as if about to leap upon the
other, and strike him down. And then, all at once, he relaxed. His
hands unclenched. And he answered calmly:

"That is the one story that will never be told, M'sieur. Come! They
will wonder about us at Adare House. Let us return."

Philip fell in behind him. Not until they were close to the door of the
house did Jean speak again.

"You are with me, M'sieur--to the death, if it must be?"

"Yes, to the death," replied Philip.

"Then let no sleep come to your eyes so long as Josephine is awake,"
went on Jean quickly. "I am going to leave Adare House to-night,
M'sieur, with team and sledge. The master must believe I have gone over
to see my sick friend on the Pipestone. I am going there--and farther!"
His voice became a low, tense whisper. "You understand, M'sieur? We are
preparing."

The two clasped hands.

"I will return late to-morrow, or to-morrow night," resumed Jean. "It
may even be the next day. But I shall travel fast--without rest. And
during that time you are on guard. In my room you will find an extra
rifle and cartridges. Carry it when you go about. And spend as much of
your time as you can with the master of Adare. Watch Josephine. I will
not see her again to-night. Warn her for me. She must not go alone in
the forests--not even to the dog pit."

"I understand," said Philip.

They entered the house. Twenty minutes later, from the window of his
room, Philip saw a dark figure walking swiftly back toward the forest.
Still later he heard the distant wail of a husky coming from the
direction of the pit, and he knew that the first gun in the big fight
had been fired--that Jean Jacques Croisset was off on his thrilling
mission into the depths of the forests. What that mission was he had
not asked him. But he had guessed. And his blood ran warm with a
strange excitement.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Again there filled Philip the desire to be with Jean in the forest. The
husky's wail told him that the half-breed had begun his journey.
Between this hour and to-morrow night he would be threading his way
swiftly over the wilderness trails on his strange mission. Philip
envied him the action, the exhaustion that would follow. He envied even
the dogs running in the traces. He was a living dynamo, overcharged,
with every