“I breeng word for heem of Jan Breuil an’ wewimow over on Jac’ fish ma Kichi Utooskayakun,” he said in a low voice.  “Heem lee’l girl so seek she goin’ die.”

“Little Marie?  She is sick—­dying, you say?” cried Josephine.

“Aha.  She ver’ dam’ seek.  She burn up lak fire.”

Josephine looked up at Philip.

“I knew she was sick,” she said.  “But I didn’t think it was so bad.  If she dies it will be my fault.  I should have gone.”  She turned quickly to Renault.  “When did you see her last?” she asked.  “Listen!  Papak-oo-moo?”

“Aha.”

“It is a sickness the children have each winter,” she explained, looking questioningly into Philip’s eyes again.  “It kills quickly when left alone.  But I have medicine that will cure it.  There is still time.  We must go, Philip.  We must!”

Her face had paled a little.  She saw the gathering lines in Philip’s forehead.  He thought of Jean’s words—­the warning they carried.  She pressed his arm, and her mouth was firm.

“I am going, Philip,” she said softly.  “Will you go with me?”

“I will, if you must go,” he said.  “But it is not best.”

“It is best for little Marie,” she retorted, and left him to tell Adare and her mother of Renault’s message.

Renault stepped close to Philip.  His back was to the others.  He spoke in a low voice: 

“I breeng good word from Jean Croisset, M’sieur.  Heem say Soomin Renault good man lak Pierre Langlois, an’ he fight lak devil when ask.  I breeng Indian an’ two team.  We be in forest near dog watekan, where Pierre mak his fire an’ tepee.  You understand?  Aha?”

“Yes—­I understand,” whispered Philip, “And Jean has gone on—­to see others?”

“He go lak win’ to Francois over on Waterfound.  Francois come in one hour—­two, t’ree, mebby.”

Josephine and Adare approached them.

“Mignonne is turning nurse again,” rumbled Adare, one of his great arms thrown affectionately about her waist.  “You’ll have a jolly run on a clear morning like this, Philip.  But remember, if it is the smallpox I forbid her to expose herself!”

“I shall see to that, Mon Pere.  When do we start, Josephine?”

“As soon as I can get ready and Metoosin brings the dogs,” replied Josephine.  “I am going to the house now.  Will you come with me?”

It was an hour before Metoosin had brought the dogs up from the pit and they were ready to start.  Philip had armed himself with a rifle and his automatic, and Josephine had packed both medicine and food in a large basket.  The new snow was soft, and Metoosin had brought a toboggan instead of a sledge with runners.  In the traces were Captain and five of his team-mates.

“Isn’t the pack going with us?” asked Philip.

“I never take them when there is very bad sickness, like this,” explained Josephine.  “There is something about the nearness of death that makes them howl.  I haven’t been able to train that out of them.”