When he awoke the following morning his first thought was that this was the day of the third night.  He had scarcely dressed when Adare’s voice greeted him from outside the door.  It was different now—­filled with the old cheer and booming hopefulness, and Philip smiled as he thought how this stricken giant of the wilderness was rising out of his own grief to comfort Josephine and him.  They were all at breakfast, and Philip was delighted to find Josephine looking much better than he had expected.  Miriam had sunk deepest under the strain of the preceding hours.  She was still white and wan.  Her hands trembled.  She spoke little.  Tenderly Adare tried to raise her spirits.

During the rest of that day Philip saw but little of Josephine, and he made no effort to intrude himself upon her.  Late in the afternoon Jean asked him if he had made friends with the dogs, and Philip told him of his experience with them.  Not until nine o’clock that night did he know why the half-breed had asked.

At that hour Adare House had sunk into quiet.  Miriam and her husband had gone to bed, the lights were low.  For an hour Philip had listened for the footsteps which he knew he would hear to-night.  At last he knew that Josephine had come out into the hall.  He heard Jean’s low voice, their retreating steps, and then the opening and closing of the door that let them out into the night.  There was a short silence.  Then the door reopened, and some one returned through the hall.  The steps stopped at his own door—­a knock—­and a moment later he was standing face to face with Croisset.

“Throw on your coat and cap and come with me, M’sieur,” he cried in a low voice.  “And bring your pistol!”

Without a word Philip obeyed.  By the time they stood out in the night his blood was racing in a wild anticipation.  Josephine had disappeared.  Jean gripped his arm.

“To-night something may happen,” he said, in a voice that was as hard and cold as the blue lights of the aurora in the polar sky.  “It is—­possible.  We may need your help.  I would have asked Metoosin, but it would have made him suspicious of something—­and he knows nothing.  You have made friends with the dogs?  You know Captain?”

“Yes!”

“Then go to them—­go as fast as you can, M’sieur.  And if you hear a shot to-night—­or a loud cry from out there in the forest, free the dogs swiftly, Captain first, and run with them to our trail, shouting ‘kill!  Kill!  Kill!’ with every breath you take, and don’t stop so long as there is a footprint in the snow ahead of you or a human bone to pick!  Do you understand, M’sieur?”

His eyes were points of flame in the gloom.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” gasped Philip.  “But—­Jean—­”

“If you understand—­that is all,” interrupted Jean, “If there is a peril in what we are doing this night the pack will be worth more to us than a dozen men.  If anything happens to us they will be our avengers.  Go!  There is not one moment for you to lose.  Remember—­a shot—­a single cry!”