Philip did not see Thorpe again that day.  He selected his men for the Gray Beaver work, and in the afternoon despatched a messenger over the Fort Churchill route to meet Brokaw.  He was confident that Brokaw and his daughter would show up during the next few days, but at the same time he instructed the messenger to go to Churchill if he should not meet them on the way.  Other men he sent to recall the prospecting parties outfitted by MacDougall.  Early in the evening the St. Pierres, Lecault, and Henshaw joined him for a few minutes in the office.  During the day the four had done scout work five miles on all sides of the camp.  Lecault had shot a moose three miles to the south, and had hung up the meat.  One of the St. Pierres saw Blake and his gang on the way to the Churchill.  Beyond these two incidents they brought in no news.  A little later MacDougall brought in two other men whom he could trust, and armed them with muzzle-loaders.  They were the two last guns in the camp.

With ten men constantly prepared for attack, Philip began to feel that he had the situation well in hand.  It would be practically impossible for his enemies to surprise the camp, and after their first day’s scout duty the men on the trail would always be within sound of rifle-shots, even if they did not discover the advance of an attacking force in time to beat them to camp.  In the event of one making such a discovery he was to signal the others by a series of shots, such as one might fire at a running moose.

Philip found it almost impossible to fight back his thoughts of Jeanne.  During the two or three days that followed the departure of Blake he did not allow himself an hour’s rest from early dawn until late at night.  Each night he went to bed exhausted, with the hope that sleep would bury his grief.  The struggle wore upon him, and the faithful MacDougall began to note the change in his comrade’s face.  The fourth day Thorpe disappeared and did not show up again until the following morning.  Every hour of his absence was like the stab of a knife in Philip’s heart, for he knew that the gang-foreman had gone to see Jeanne.  Three days later the visit was repeated, and that night MacDougall found Philip in a fever.

“You’re overdoing,” he told him.  “You’re not in bed five hours out of the twenty-four.  Cut it out, or you’ll be in the hospital instead of in the fighting line when the big show comes to town.”

Days of mental agony and of physical pain followed.  Neither Philip nor MacDougall could understand the mysterious lack of developments.  They had expected attack before this, and yet ceaseless scout work brought in no evidence of an approaching crisis.  Neither could they understand the growing disaffection among Thorpe’s men.  The numerical strength of the gang dwindled from nineteen down to fifteen, from fifteen to twelve.  At last Thorpe voluntarily asked Philip to cut his salary in two, because he could not hold his men.  On that same day the little