His fingers worked
convulsively, something rose in his throat and choked him. When
Philip had done he buried his face in his hands. For a few moments
he remained thus, and then suddenly looked up. Livid spots burned
in his cheeks, and he fairly hissed at Philip.
"M'sieur, if this is not the truth--if this is a lie--"
He stopped. Something in Philip's eyes told him to go no further.
He was fearless, and he saw more than fearlessness in Philip's
face. Such men believe, when they come together.
"It is the truth," said Philip.
With a low, strained laugh Pierre held out his hand as a pledge of
his faith.
"I believe in you, M'sieur," he said, and it seemed an effort for
him to speak. "Do you know what I would have thought, if you had
told this to Jeanne before I came?"
"No."
"I would have thought, M'sieur, that she threw herself purposely
into the death of the Big Thunder rocks."
"My God, you mean--"
"That is all, M'sieur. I can say no more. Ah, there is Jeanne!" he
cried, more loudly. "Now we will take down the tent, and go."
Jeanne stood a dozen steps behind them when Philip turned. She
greeted him with a smile, and hastened to assist Pierre in
gathering up the things about the camp.
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