“It was terrible,” interrupted Philip, remembering Pierre’s words, and eager to put her at ease.  “You have stood up under it beautifully.  I am afraid of after effects.  You must not collapse under the strain now.”

Pierre heard his last words and a smile flashed over his dark face as he encountered Philip’s glance.

“It is true, M’sieur,” he said.  “I know of no other woman who would have stood up under such a thing as Jeanne has done.  Mon dieu, when I found a part of the canoe wreckage far below I thought that both of you were dead!”

Philip began to feel that he had foolishly overestimated his strength.  There was a weakness in his limbs that surprised him, and a sudden chill replaced the fever in his blood.  Jeanne placed her hand upon his arm and thrust him gently toward the tent.

“You must not exert yourself,” she said, watching the pallor in his face.  “You must be quiet, until after dinner.”

He obeyed the pressure of her hand.  Pierre followed into the tent, and for a moment he was compelled to lean heavily upon the half-breed.

“It is the reaction, M’sieur,” said Pierre.  “You are weak after the fever.  If you could sleep—­”

“I can,” murmured Philip, dizzily, dropping upon his balsam.  “But, Pierre—­”

“Yes, M’sieur.”

“I have something—­to say to you—­no questions—­”

“Not now, M’sieur.”

Philip heard the rustling of the flap, and Pierre was gone.  He felt more comfortable lying down.  Dizziness and nausea left him, and he slept.  It was the deep, refreshing sleep that always follows the awakening from fever.  When he awoke he felt like his old self, and went outside.  Pierre was alone; a blanket was drawn across the front of the balsam shelter, and the half-breed nodded toward it in response to Philip’s inquiring glance.

Philip ate lightly of the food which Pierre had ready for him.  When he had finished he leaned close to him, and said: 

“You have warned me to ask no questions, and I am going to ask none.  But you have not forbidden me to tell you things which I know.  I am going to talk to you about Lord Fitzhugh Lee.”

Pierre’s dark eyes flashed.

“M’sieur—­”

“Listen!” demanded Philip.  “I seek your confidence no further.  But I shall tell you what I know of Lord Fitzhugh Lee, if it makes us fight.  Do you understand?  I insist upon this because you have as good as told me that this man is your enemy, and that he is at the bottom of Jeanne’s trouble.  He is also my enemy.  And after I have told you why—­you may change your determination to keep me a stranger to your trouble.  If not—­well, you can hold your tongue then as well as now.”