"They are there!" she said, chokingly. "It is Sachigo, and they
are coming--coming--coming--"
Once again before they began the descent of the mountain Philip
drew her close in his arms, and kissed her. And this time there
was the sweet surrender to him of all things in the tenderness of
Jeanne's lips. Silent in their grief, and yet communing in
sympathy and love in the firm clasp of their hands, they came down
the mountain, through the thin spruce forest, and to the lighted
cabin where Pierre lay dying. MacDougall was in the room when they
entered, and rose softly, tiptoeing into the little office. Philip
led Jeanne to Pierre's side, and as he bent over him, and spoke
softly, the half-breed opened his eyes. He saw Jeanne. Into his
fading eyes there came a wonderful light. His lips moved, and his
hands strove to lift themselves above the crumpled blanket. Jeanne
dropped upon her knees beside him, and as she clasped his chilled
hands to her breast a glorious understanding lighted up her face;
and then she took Pierre's face between her hands, and bowed her
own close down to it, so that the two were hidden under the
beauteous halo of her hair. Philip gripped at his throat to hold
back a sob.
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