explain the strange scene on the pier, when for a moment she had stood crushed and startled before Eileen.  She could clear up the mystery of Gregson’s sketch, for if there were two Eileen Brokaws, Jeanne would know.  With these arguments he convinced himself that he should go on alone.  Yet, behind them there was another and more powerful motive.  He confessed to himself that he would willingly accept double the chances against him to achieve Jeanne’s rescue without assistance and to accompany her to Fort o’ God.  The thought of their being together, of the girl’s companionship—­ perhaps for days—­thrilled him with exquisite anticipation.  An hour or so ago he had been satisfied in the assurance that he would see her for a few minutes on the cliff.  Since then fate had played his way.  Jeanne was his own, to save, to defend, to carry on to Fort o’ God.

Not for a moment did he hesitate at the danger ahead of him, and yet his pursuit was filled with caution.  Gregson, the diplomat, would have seen the necessity of halting at the ship for help; Philip was confident in himself.  He knew that he would have at least three against him, for he was satisfied that the man whom he had wounded on the cliff was still in fighting trim.  There might be others whom he had not taken into account.

He passed so close under the stern of the ship that his canoe scraped against her side.  For a few minutes the vessel had obstructed his view, but now he saw again, a quarter of a mile distant, the craft which he was pursuing.  Jeanne’s captors were heading straight for the river, and as the canoe was now partly broadside to him he could easily make out the figures in her, but not distinctly enough to make sure of their number.  He shoved out boldly into the moonlight, and, instead of following in his former course, he turned at a sharp angle in the direction of the shore.  If the others saw him, which was probable, they would think that he was making a landing from the ship.  Once he was in the deep fringe of shadow along the shore he could redouble his exertions and draw nearer to them without being observed.

No sooner had he readied the sheltering gloom than he bent to his paddle and the light birch-bark fairly hissed through the water.  Not until he found himself abreast of the pursued did it occur to him that he could beat them out to the mouth of the Churchill and lie in wait for them.  Every stroke of his paddle widened the distant between him and the larger canoe.  Fifteen minutes later he reached the edge of the huge delta of wild rice and reeds through which the sluggish volume of the river emptied into the Bay.  The chances were that the approaching canoe would take the nearest channel into the main stream, and Philip concealed himself so that it would have to pass within twenty yards of him.