He found himself whistling again as he refolded his blankets and
straightened out his tent. When he had finished this last task he
turned to find Jean standing close behind him, his dark eyes
watching him closely. As he greeted the half-breed, Philip looked
for Josephine.

"I am alone, M'sieur," said Jean, coming close to Philip. "I
tricked her into staying behind until I could see you for a moment
as we are, alone, man to man. Why is it that our Josephine has
come to trust you as she does?"

His voice was low--it was almost soft as a woman's, but deep in
his eyes Philip saw the glow of a strange, slumbering fire.

"Why is it?" he persisted.

"God only knows," exclaimed Philip, the significance of the
question bursting upon him for the first time. "I hadn't thought
of it, Jean. Everything has happened so quickly, so strangely,
that there are many things I haven't thought of. It must be
because--she thinks I'm a MAN!"

"That is it, M'sieur," replied Jean, as quietly as before. "That,
and because you have come from two years in the North. I have been
there. I know that it breeds men. And our Josephine knows. I could
swear that there is not one man in a million she would trust as
she has put faith in you. Into your hands she has given herself,
and what you do means for her life or death. And for you--"