He made up some of this time by following the trail for an hour when the moon was at its highest, and then pitched his tent.  He was up again the next morning and breaking camp before it was light.  Scarcely had he traveled an hour over the clear-cut trail ahead of him when he suddenly halted his dogs with a loud cry of command and astonishment.  In a small open the trails of the two sledges separated.  One continued straight east, toward Churchill, while the other turned almost at right angles into the south.  For a few moments he could find no explanation for this occurrence.  Then he decided that one of the Indians had struck southward, either to hunt, or on some short mission, and that he would join the other sledge farther on.  Convinced that this was the right solution, Philip continued over the Churchill trail.  A little later, to his despair, it began to snow so heavily that the trail which he was following was quickly obliterated.  There was but one thing for him to do now, and that was to hasten on to Fort Churchill, giving up all hope of finding Isobel and the colonel before he met them there.

Four days later he came into the post.  The news that awaited him struck him dumb.  Isobel and her father, with one Indian, had gone with the sledge into the South.  The Indian who had driven on to Churchill could give no further information, except that he knew the colonel and his daughter had suddenly changed their minds about coming to Churchill.  Perhaps they had gone to Nelson House, or York Factory—­or even to Le Pas.  He did not know.

It was with a heavy heart that Philip turned his face once more toward Lac Bain.  He could not repress a laugh, bitter and filled with disappointment, as he thought how fate was playing against him.  If he had not overslept he would have caught up with the sledges before they separated, if he had not forced himself into this assignment it was possible that Isobel and her father would have come to him.  They knew that his detachment was at Prince Albert—­and they were going south.  He had little doubt but that they were striking for Nelson House, and from Nelson House to civilization there was but one trail, that which led to Le Pas and Etomami.  And Etomami was but two hours by rail from Prince Albert.

He carried in his breast pocket a bit of written information which he had obtained from the Churchill factor—­that helped to soften, in a way, the sting of his disappointment.  It was Colonel Becker’s London address—­and Isobel’s, and he quickly laid out for himself new plans of action.  He would write to MacGregor from Lac Bain, asking him to put in at once the necessary application for the purchase of his release from the service.  As soon as he was free he would go to London.  He would call on Isobel like a gentleman, he told himself.  Perhaps, after all, it would be the better way.

But first, there was DeBar.