ich he had paused, were all Indian. Then, above these
things, Philip saw the French. Swiftly it became the dominant part of
the man before him, and he was not surprised when Jean advanced with
outstretched hand, and said:

"M'sieur Philip, I am Jean--Jean Jacques Croisset--and I am glad you
have come."

The words were spoken for Philip alone, and where she stood Josephine
did not catch the strange flash of fire in the half-breed's eyes, nor
did she hear his still more swiftly spoken words: "I am glad it is YOU
that chance has sent to us, M'sieur Weyman!"

The two men gripped hands. There was something about Jean that inspired
Philip's confidence, and as he returned the half-breed's greeting his
eyes looked for a moment over the other's shoulder and rested on
Josephine. He was astonished at the change in her. Evidently Jean had
not brought her bad news. She held the pages of an open letter in her
hand, and as she caught Philip's look she smiled at him with a gladness
which he had not seen in her face before. She came forward quickly, and
placed a hand on his arm.

"Jean's coming was a surprise," she explained. "I did not expect him
for a number of days, and I dreaded what he might have to tell me. But
this letter has brought me fresh cause for thankfulness, though it may
enslave you a little longer to your vows of knighthood. We start for
home this afternoon. Are you ready?"

"I have a little packing to do," he said, looking after Jean, who was
moving toward the tent. "Twenty-seven prunes and--"

"Me," laughed Josephine. "Is it not necessary that you make room in
your canoe for me?"

Philip's face flushed with pleasure.

"Of course it is," he cried. "Everything has seemed so wonderfully
unreal to me that for a moment I forgot that you were my--my wife. But
how about Jean? He called me M'sieur Weyman."

"He is the one other person in the world who knows what you and I
know," she explained. "That, too, was necessary. Will you go and
arrange your canoe now? Jean will bring down my things and exchange
them for some of your dunnage." She left him to run into the tent,
reappearing quickly with a thick rabbit-skin blanket and two canoe
pillows.

"These make my nest--when I'm not working," she said, thrusting them
into Philip's arms. "I have a paddle, too. Jean says that I am as good
as an Indian woman with it."

"Better, M'sieur," exclaimed Jean, who had come out of the tent. "It
makes you work harder to see her.