The fires in his eyes were nearer the surface now.

"What?" asked Philip tensely.

"Death--unless you play your part as a man," answered Jean. There
was neither threat nor excitement in his voice, but in his eyes
was the thing that Philip understood. Silently he reached out and
gripped the half-breed's hand, For an instant they stood, their
faces close, looking into each other's eyes. And as men see men
where the fires of the earth burn low, so they read each other's
souls, and their fingers tightened in a clasp of understanding.

"What that part is to be I cannot guess," said Philip, then. "But
I will play it, and it is not fear that will hold me to my promise
to her. If I fail, why--kill me!"

"That is the North," breathed Jean, and in his voice was the
thankfulness of prayer.

Without another word he stooped and picked up the tent and
blankets. Philip was about to stop him, to speak further with him,
when he saw Josephine climbing over the bulwark of rocks between
them and the trail. He hurried to meet her. Her arms were full,
and she allowed him to take a part of her load. With what Jean had
brought this was all that was to go in Philip's canoe, and the
half-breed remained to help them off.

"You will go straight across the lake," he said to Philip. "If you
paddle slowly, I will catch up with you."