He found himself whistling again as he refolded his blankets and straightened out his tent.  When he had finished this last task he turned to find Jean standing close behind him, his dark eyes watching him closely.  As he greeted the half-breed, Philip looked for Josephine.

“I am alone, M’sieur,” said Jean, coming close to Philip.  “I tricked her into staying behind until I could see you for a moment as we are, alone, man to man.  Why is it that our Josephine has come to trust you as she does?”

His voice was low—­it was almost soft as a woman’s, but deep in his eyes Philip saw the glow of a strange, slumbering fire.

“Why is it?” he persisted.

“God only knows,” exclaimed Philip, the significance of the question bursting upon him for the first time.  “I hadn’t thought of it, Jean.  Everything has happened so quickly, so strangely, that there are many things I haven’t thought of.  It must be because—­she thinks I’m a man!”

“That is it, M’sieur,” replied Jean, as quietly as before.  “That, and because you have come from two years in the North.  I have been there.  I know that it breeds men.  And our Josephine knows.  I could swear that there is not one man in a million she would trust as she has put faith in you.  Into your hands she has given herself, and what you do means for her life or death.  And for you—­”

The fires in his eyes were nearer the surface now.

“What?” asked Philip tensely.

“Death—­unless you play your part as a man,” answered Jean.  There was neither threat nor excitement in his voice, but in his eyes was the thing that Philip understood.  Silently he reached out and gripped the half-breed’s hand, For an instant they stood, their faces close, looking into each other’s eyes.  And as men see men where the fires of the earth burn low, so they read each other’s souls, and their fingers tightened in a clasp of understanding.

“What that part is to be I cannot guess,” said Philip, then.  “But I will play it, and it is not fear that will hold me to my promise to her.  If I fail, why—­kill me!”

“That is the North,” breathed Jean, and in his voice was the thankfulness of prayer.

Without another word he stooped and picked up the tent and blankets.  Philip was about to stop him, to speak further with him, when he saw Josephine climbing over the bulwark of rocks between them and the trail.  He hurried to meet her.  Her arms were full, and she allowed him to take a part of her load.  With what Jean had brought this was all that was to go in Philip’s canoe, and the half-breed remained to help them off.

“You will go straight across the lake,” he said to Philip.  “If you paddle slowly, I will catch up with you.”