A quickening of his pulse was the answer to these questions.  Jeanne had told him there were only two men at Fort o’ God, Pierre and her father.  Then who could be this third?  A lover, whom she met clandestinely?  He shivered, and began loading his pipe as he walked.  He was certain that the master of Fort o’ God did not know of the tryst beyond the rock, and he was equally certain that the girl was unaware of Pierre’s knowledge of the meeting.  Pierre had remained hidden, like himself, and he had given Philip to understand that it was not the first time he had looked upon the meetings of Jeanne and the man they had seen from the shadow of the rock.  And yet, in spite of all evidence, he could not lose faith in Jeanne.

Suddenly he saw something ahead of him which changed for a moment the uncomfortable trend of his thoughts.  It was a pale streak, rising above the level of the trail, and stretching diagonally across the plain to the east.  With an exclamation of surprise Philip hastened his steps, and a moment later stood among the fresh workings of his men.  When he had left for Churchill this streak, which was the last stretch of road-bed between them and the surveyed line of the Hudson’s Bay Railway, had ended two miles to the south and west.  In a little over a month MacDougall had pushed it on the trail, and well across it in the direction of Gray Beaver Lake.  In that time he had accomplished a work which Philip had not thought possible to achieve that autumn.  He had figured that the heavy snows of winter would cut them off at the trail.  And MacDougall was beyond the trail, with three weeks to spare!

Something rose up in his blood, warming him with an elation which sent him walking swiftly toward the end of the road-bed.  A quarter of a mile out on the plain he came to the working end.  About him were scattered half a dozen big scoop shovels and piles of working tools.  The embers of a huge log fire still glowed where dinner had been cooked for the men.  Philip stood for a few moments, looking off into the distance.  Another mile and a half out there was the Gray Beaver, and from the Gray Beaver there lay the unbroken waterway to the point of their conjunction with the railway coming up from the south.  A sudden idea occurred to Philip.  If MacDougall had built two and a quarter miles of road-bed in five weeks they could surely complete this other mile and a half before winter stopped them.  In that event, they would have fifteen miles of road, linking seven lakes, which would give them a splendid winter trail for men, teams, and dogs to the Gray Beaver.  And from the Gray Beaver they would have smooth ice for twenty miles, to the new road.  He had not planned to begin fishing operations until spring, but he could see no reason now why they should not commence that winter, setting their nets through the ice.  At Lobstick Creek, where the new road would reach them sometime in April or May, they could freeze their fish and keep them in storage.  Five hundred tons in stock, and perhaps a thousand, would not be a bad beginning.  It would mean from forty to eighty thousand dollars, a half of which could be paid out in dividends.