They had almost reached the lake when he said: 

“And now, I may call you Josephine?”

“Yes, that is necessary.”

“And you will call me—­”

“Paul, of course—­for you are Paul Darcambal.”

“Is that quite necessary?” he asked.  “Is it not possible that you might allow me to retain at least a part of my name, and call me Philip?  Philip Darcambal?”

“There really is no objection to that,” she hesitated.  “If you wish I will call you Philip, But you must also be Paul—­your middle name, perhaps.”

“In the event of certain exigencies,” he guessed.

“Yes.”

He had still assisted her over the rocks by holding to her hand, and suddenly her fingers clutched his convulsively.  She pointed to a stretch of the open lake.  The canoes were plainly visible not more than a quarter of a mile away.  Even as he felt her trembling slightly he laughed.

“Only three!” he exclaimed.  “Surely it is not going to demand a great amount of courage to face that number, Josephine?”

“It is going to take all the courage in the world to face one of them,” she replied in a low, strained voice.  “Can you make them out?  Are they white men or Indians?”

“The light is not right—­I can’t decide,” he said, after a moment’s scrutiny.  “If they are Indians—­”

“They are friends,” she interrupted.  “Jean—­my Jean Croisset—­left me hiding here five days ago.  He is part French and part Indian.  But he could not be returning so soon.  If they are white—­”

“We will expose ourselves on the beach,” he finished significantly.

She nodded.  He saw that in spite of her struggle to remain calm she was seized again by the terror of what might be in the approaching canoes.  He was straining his eyes to make out their occupants when a low cry drew his gaze to her.

“It is Jean,” she gasped, and he thought that he could hear her heart beating.  “It is Jean—­and the others are Indians!  Oh, my God, how thankful I am—­”

She turned to him.

“You will go back to the camp—­please.  Wait for us there, I must see Jean alone.  It is best that you should do this.”

To obey without questioning her or expostulating against his sudden dismissal, he knew was in the code of his promise to her.  And he knew by what he saw in her face that Jean’s return had set the world trembling under her feet, that for her it was charged with possibilities as tremendous as if the two canoes had contained those whom she had at first feared.

“Go,” she whispered.  “Please go.”

Without a word he returned in the direction of the camp.

CHAPTER FIVE