“He must not go!” exclaimed Philip.  “Hurry to him, Jean.  I will boil some coffee while you are gone.  Bring another rifle.  They robbed me of mine, and the pistol.”

Jean prepared to leave.

“I will return soon,” he said.  “We should start for the Forks within two hours, M’sieur.  In that time you must rest.”

He slipped away into the gloom in the direction of the pit.  For several minutes Philip stood near the fire staring into the flames.  Then he suddenly awoke into life.  The thought that had come to him this night had changed his world for him.  And he wondered now if he was right.  Jean had said:  “I cannot believe that you have guessed true,” and yet in the half-breed’s face, in his horror-filled eyes, in the tense gathering of his body was revealed the fear that he had!  But if he had made a mistake!  If he had guessed wrong!  The hot blood surged in his face.  If he had guessed wrong—­his thought would be a crime.  He had made up his mind to drive the guess out of his head, and he went into the tepee to find food and coffee.  When Jean returned, an hour later, supper was waiting in the heat of the fire.  The half-breed had brought Philip’s rifle along with his own.

“What did he say?” asked Philip, as they sat down to eat.  “He had no suspicions?”

“None, M’sieur,” replied Jean, a strange smile on his lips.  “He was with Miriam.  When I entered they were romping like two children in the music-room.  Her hair was down.  She was pulling his beard, and they were laughing so that at first they did not hear me when I spoke to them.  Laughing, M’sieur!”

His eyes met Philip’s.

“Has Josephine told you what the Indians call them?” he asked softly.

“No.”

“In every tepee in these forests they speak of them as Kah Sakehewawin, ‘the lovers.’  Ah, M’sieur, there is one picture in my brain which I shall never forget.  I first came to Adare House on a cold, bleak night, dying of hunger, and first of all I looked through a lighted window.  In a great chair before the fire sat Le M’sieur, so that I could see his face and what was gathered up close in his arms.  At first I thought it was a sleeping child he was holding.  And then I saw the long hair streaming to the floor, and in that moment La Fleurette—­beautiful as the angels I had dreamed of—­raised her face and saw me at the window.  And during all the years that have passed since then it has been like that, M’sieur.  They have been lovers.  They will be until they die.”

Philip was silent.  He knew that Jean was looking at him.  He felt that he was reading the thoughts in his heart.  A little later he drew out his watch and looked at it.

“What time is it, M’sieur?”

“Nine o’clock,” replied Philip.  “Why wait another hour, Jean?  I am ready.”

“Then we will go,” replied Jean, springing to his feet.  “Throw these things into the tepee, M’sieur, while I put the dogs in the traces.”