There were two canoes concealed at the end of the trail on
the Little Churchill, and Philip chose the smallest. He followed
swiftly after MacDougall and Jeanne. He could no longer see either
side of the stream, and he was filled with a fear that he might
pass the little creek that led to Fort o' God. He timed himself by
his watch, and when he had paddled for two hours he ran in close
to the west shore, traveling so slowly that he did not progress a
mile in half an hour. And then suddenly, from close ahead, there
rose through the snow-gloom the dismal howl of a dog, which told
him that he was near to Fort o' God. He found the black opening
that marked the entrance to the creek, and when he ran upon the
sand-bar a hundred yards beyond he saw lights burning in the great
room where he had first seen D'Arcambal. He went now where Pierre
had led him that night, and found the door unlocked. He entered
silently, and passed down the dark hall until, on the left, he saw
a glow of light that came from the big room. Something in the
silence that was ahead of him made his own approach without sound,
and softly he entered through the door.
In the great chair sat the master of Fort o' God, his gray head
bent; at his feet knelt Jeanne, and so close were they that
D'Arcambal's face was hidden in Jeanne's shining, disheveled hair.
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