One thought filled his dizzy brain now.  He must reach Jean and the camp near the pit.  He staggered as he turned his face homeward.  At times the trail seemed to reach up and strike him in the face.  There was a blinding pain back of his eyes.  A dozen times in the first mile he fell, and each time it was harder for him to regain his feet.  The darkness of night grew heavier about him, and now and then he found himself crawling on his hands and knees.  It was two hours before his dazed senses caught the glow of a fire ahead of him.  Even then it seemed an age before he reached it.  And when at last he staggered into the circle of light he saw half a dozen startled faces, and he heard the strange cry of Jean Jacques Croisset as he sprang up and caught him in his arms.  Philip’s strength was gone, but he still had time to tell Jean what had happened before he crumpled down into the snow.

And then he heard a voice, Jean’s voice, crying fierce commands to the men about the fire; he heard excited replies, the hurry of feet, the barking of dogs.  Something warm and comforting touched his lips.  He struggled to bring himself back into life.  He seemed to have been fighting hours before he opened his eyes.  He pulled himself up, stared into the dark, livid face of Jean, the half-breed.

“The hour—­has come—­” he murmured.

“Yes, the hour has come, M’sieur!” cried Jean.  “The swiftest teams and the swiftest runners in this part of the Northland are on 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!”