sub-foreman and two others left him, leaving only nine men at work.  The delay in Brokaw’s arrival was another puzzle to Philip.  Two weeks passed, and in that time Thorpe left camp three times.  On the fifteenth day the Fort Churchill messenger returned.  He was astounded when he found that Brokaw was not in camp, and brought amazing news.  Brokaw and his daughter had departed from Fort Churchill two days after Pierre had followed Jeanne and Philip.  They had gone in two canoes, up the Churchill.  He had seen no signs of them anywhere along the route.

No sooner had he received the news than Philip sent the messenger after MacDougall.  The Scotchman’s red face stared at him blankly when he told him what had happened.

“That’s their first move in the real fight,” said Philip, with a hard ring in his voice.  “They’ve got Brokaw.  Keep your men close from this hour on, Sandy.  Hereafter let five of them sleep in our bunks during the day, and keep them awake during the night.”

Five days passed without a sign of an enemy.

About eight o’clock on the night of the sixth MacDougall came into the office, where Philip was alone.  The young Scotchman’s usually florid face was white.  He dropped a curse as he grasped the back of a chair with both hands.  It was the third or fourth time that Philip had heard MacDougall swear.

“Damn that Thorpe!” he cried, in a low voice.

“What’s up?” asked Philip, his muscles tightening.

MacDougall viciously beat the ash from the bowl of his pipe.

“I didn’t want to worry you about Thorpe, so I’ve kept quiet about some things,” he growled.  “Thorpe brought up a load of whisky with him.  I knew it was against the law you’ve set down for this camp, but I figured you were having trouble enough without getting you into a mix-up with him, so I didn’t say anything.  But this other—­ is damnable!  Twice he’s had a woman sneak in to visit him.  She’s there again to-night!”

A choking, gripping sensation rose in Philip’s throat.  MacDougall was not looking, and did not see the convulsive twitching of the other’s face, or the terrible light that shot for an instant into his eyes.

“A woman—­Mac—­”

“A young woman,” said MacDougall, with emphasis.  “I don’t know who she is, but I do know that she hasn’t a right there or she wouldn’t sneak in like a thief.  I’m going to be blunt—­damned blunt.  I think she’s one of the other men’s wives.  There are half a dozen in camp.”

“Haven’t you ever looked—­to see if you could recognize her?”

“Haven’t had the chance,” said MacDougall.  “She’s been wrapped up both times, and as it was none of my business I didn’t lay in wait.  But now—­it’s up to you!”

Philip rose slowly.  He felt cold.  He put on his coat and cap, and buckled on his revolver.  His face was deadly white when he turned to MacDougall.

“She is over there to-night?”