Jeanne saw his head and shoulders pop over the top
of the rocks, and she laughed at him from their stone table.
"I've been keeping breakfast for over an hour, M'sieur Philip,"
she cried. "Hurry down to the creek and wash yourself, or I shall
eat all alone!"
Philip rose stupidly and looked at his watch.
"Eight o'clock!" he gasped. "We should have been ten miles on the
way by this time!"
Jeanne was still laughing at him. Like sunlight she dispelled his
gloom of the night before. A glance around the camp showed him
that she must have been awake for at least two hours. The packs
were filled and strapped. The silken tent was down and folded. She
had gathered wood, built the fire, and cooked breakfast while he
slept. And now she stood a dozen paces from him, blushing a little
at his amazed stare, waiting for him.
"It's deuced good of you, Miss Jeanne!" he exclaimed. "I don't
deserve such kindness from you."
"Oh!" said Jeanne, and that was all. She bent over the fire, and
Philip went to the creek.
He was determined now to maintain a more certain hold upon
himself. As he doused his face in the cold water his resolutions
formed themselves. For the next few days he would forget
everything but the one fact that Jeanne was in his care; he would
not hurt her again or compel her confidence.
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