“I talked with him—­alone—­on the afternoon of the fight on the rock,” continued Pierre, huskily.  “He was hiding in the woods near Churchill, and left for Fort o’ God on that same day.  I did not tell Jeanne—­until after what happened, and I came up with you on the river.  Thorpe was waiting for us at Fort o’ God.  It was he whom Jeanne saw that night beside the rock, but I could not tell you the truth—­then.  He came often after that—­two, three times a week.  He tortured Jeanne.  My God! he taunted her, M’sieur, and made her let him kiss her, because he was her father.  We gave him money—­all that we could get; we promised him more, if he would leave—­five thousand dollars—­in three years.  He agreed to go—­ after he had finished his work here.  And that work—­M’sieur—­was to destroy you.  He told Jeanne, because it made her fear him more.  He compelled her to come to his cabin.  He thought she was his slave, that she would do anything to be free of him.  He told her of his plot—­how he had fooled you in the sham fight with one of his men—­how those men were going to attack you a little later, and how he had intercepted your letter from Churchill and sent in its place the other letter which made your camp defenseless.  He was not afraid of her.  She was in his power, and he laughed at her horror, and tortured her as a cat will a bird.  But Jeanne—­”

A spasm of pain shot over Pierre’s face.  Fresh blood dyed his lips, and a shiver ran through his body.

“My God!—­water—­something—­M’sieur,” he gasped.  “I must go on!”

Philip raised him again in his arms.  He saw MacDougall’s head appear through the door.

“You will rest easier this way, Pierre,” he said.

After a few moments Pierre spoke in a gasping whisper.

“You must understand.  I must be quick,” he said.  “We could not warn you of what Jeanne had discovered.  That would have revealed her father.  D’Arcambal would have known—­every one.  Thorpe plans to dress his men—­like Indians.  They are to attack your camp to-morrow night.  Ten days ago we went to the camp of old Sachigo, the Cree, who loves Jeanne as his own daughter.  It was Jeanne’s idea—­ to save you.  Jeanne told him of Thorpe’s plot to destroy you, and to lay the blame on Sachigo’s people.  Sachigo is out there—­in the mountains—­hiding with thirty of his tribe.  Two days ago Jeanne learned where her father’s men were hiding.  We had planned everything.  To-morrow night—­when they move to attack—­we were to start a signal-fire on the big rock mountain at the end of the lake.  Sachigo starts at the signal, and lays in ambush for the others in the ravine between the two mountains.  None of Thorpe’s men will come out alive.  Sachigo and his people will destroy them, and none will ever know how it happened, for the Crees keep their secrets.  But now—­it is too late—­for me.  When it happens—­I will be gone.  The signal-pile is built—­birch-bark—­at the very top of the rock.  Jeanne will wait for me out on the plain—­and I will not come.  You must fire the signal, M’sieur—­as soon as it is dark.  None will ever know.  Jeanne’s father is dead.  You will keep the secret—­of her mother—­always—­”