In the early dawn there were forty who gathered about Father George to listen to the final words he had to say.  He raised his hands.  Then he bowed his head, and there was a strange silence.  Words of prayer fell solemnly from his lips.  Partly it was in Cree, partly in French, and when he had finished a deep breath ran through the ranks of those who listened to him.  Then he told them, beginning with Cree, in the three languages of the wilderness, that they were to be led that day by Jean Jacques Croisset and Philip Darcambal, the husband of Josephine.  Two of the Indians were to remain behind to care for the camp and dogs.  Beyond that they needed no instructions.

They were ready, and Jean was about to give the word to start when there was an interruption.  Out of the forest and into their midst came a figure—­the form of a man who rose above them like a giant, and whose voice as it bellowed Jean’s name had in it the wrath of thunder.

It was the master of Adare!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

For a moment John Adare stood like an avenging demon in the midst of the startled faces of the forest men.  His shaggy hair blew out from under his gray lynx cap.  His eyes were red and glaring with the lights of the hunting wolf.  His deep chest rose and fell in panting breaths.  Then he saw Jean and Philip, side by side.  Toward them he came, as if to crush them, and Philip sprang toward him, so that he was ahead of Jean.  Adare stopped.  The wind rattled in his throat.

“And you came without me—­”

His voice was a rumble, deep, tense, like the muttering vibration before an explosion.  Philip’s hands gripped his arms, and those arms were as hard as oak.  In one hand Adare held a gun.  His other fist was knotted, heavy.

“Yes, Mon Pere, we came without you,” said Philip.  “It is terrible.  We did not want you two to suffer.  We did not want you to know until it was all over, and Josephine was back in your arms.  We thought it drive her mother mad.  And you, Mon Pere, we wanted to save you!”

Adare’s face relaxed.  His arm dropped.  His red eyes shifted to the faces about him, and he said, as he looked: 

“It was Breuil.  He said you and Josephine were not at his cabin.  He came to tell Mignonne the child was so much better.  I cornered Metoosin, and he told me.  I have been coming fast, running.”

He drew in a deep breath.  Then suddenly he became like a tiger.  He sprang among the men, and threw up his great arms.  His voice rose more than human, fierce and savage, above the growing tumult of the dogs and the wailing of the wind.

“Ye are with me, men?”

A rumble of voice answered him.

“Then come!”

He had seen that they were ready, and he strode on ahead of them.  He was leader now, and Philip saw Father George close at his side, clutching his arm, talking.  In Jean’s face there was a great fear.  He spoke low to Philip.