the trail,
and by morning the forest people will be roused from here to the
Waterfound, from the Cree camp on Lobstick to the Gray Loon waterway!
Drink this, M'sieur. There is no time to lose. For it is Jean Jacques
Croisset who tells you that not a wolf will howl this night that does
not call forth the signal to those who love our Josephine! Drink!"

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jean's thrilling words burned into Philip's consciousness like fire.
They roused him from his stupor, and he began to take in deep breaths
of the chill night air, and to see more clearly. The camp was empty
now. The men were gone. Only Jean was with him, his face darkly flushed
and his eyes burning. Philip rose slowly to his feet. There was no
longer the sickening dizziness in his head, He inhaled still deeper
breaths, while Jean stood a step back and watched. Far off in the
forest he heard the faint barking of dogs.

"They are running like the wind!" breathed Jean. "Those are Renault's
dogs. They are two miles away!"

He took Philip by the arm.

"I have made a comfortable bed for you in Pierre's tepee, M'sieur. You
must lie down, and I will get your supper. You will need all of your
strength soon."

"But I must know what is happening," protested Philip. "My God, I
cannot lie down like a tired dog--with Josephine out there with Lang! I
am ready now, Jean. I am not hungry. And the pain is gone. See--I am as
steady as you!" he cried excitedly, gripping Jean's hand. "God in
Heaven, who knows what may be happening out there!"

"Josephine is safe for a time, M'sieur," assured Jean. "Listen to me,
Netootam! I feared this. That is why I warned you. Lang is taking her
to Thoreau's. He believes that we will not dare to pursue, and that
Josephine will send back word she is there of her own pleasure. Why?
Because he has sworn to give Le M'sieur the confession if we make him
trouble. Mon Dieu, he thinks we will not dare! and even now, Netootam,
six of the fastest teams and swiftest runners within a hundred miles
are gone to spread the word among the forest people that L'Ange, our
Josephine, has been carried off by Thoreau and his beasts! Before dawn
they will begin to gather where the forks meet, twelve miles off there
toward the Devil's Nest, and to-morrow--"

Jean crossed himself.

"Our Lady forgive us, if it is a sin to take the lives of twenty such
men," he said softly. "Not one will live to tell the story. And not a
log of Thoreau House