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Flower of the North

Chapter 9 No.9

Word Count: 3622    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

spell that had hel

ost unreal. Are you the old Eileen who used to shudder when I told you of a bit of jungle and wild beasts, and who laughed at me because I loved

y lovely. "You told me once that girls like me simply fluttered over the top of life like butterflies; that we couldn't understand life, or live it, until somewhere-at some time-we came int

He put the questi

seen her more beautiful. Was it the firelight on her face, the crimson leapings of the flames, that gave her skin a richer hue? W

an see the effects of it in your face. It

faltered; the

pent a half of the summer

king. "It is the wind; it is the open; it is the smoke of camp-fires; it is the elixi

wind and the open of the seas we have come across, and

her two hands, and then h

ven wear gloves on the ship. I'm an enthusiast. I'm going down there with you,

s, mingled with an almost childish eagerness for him to answer, which Philip could not under

softly, in his astonishment. "You, whom wild horses co

now, and she did not look at Philip. "I am beginning to-to love adventure," she went on, in an even voice. "It was an adven

fire lit up her eyes, fixed on him in

is heart beating at double-quick. He leaned over so

now her?"

ly twice-once befor

as her mistake, and she startled me. When she ran out to me

with a laugh, and to cover his sudden emotion turned to lay a fr

easurably to the sweetness and truthfulness of her voice. She was nervous. He found her eyes frequently seeking her father's face, and more than once they were filled with a mysterious questioning, as if within Brokaw's brain there lurked hidden things which were new to her, and which she was struggling to understand. She no longer held the old fascination for Philip, and yet he conceded that she was more beautiful than ever. Until to-night he had never seen the shadow of sadness in her eyes

time for cigars, and Eileen excused herself. He opened the door for her, and told her that he probably would not see her again until morning,

ht," she

d ni

own. They were calm, quiet, beautiful, and yet there came a quick little catch

ng-everybody-if you can influence

tared after her in amazement. Then he took a step as if to follow her, to call her ba

d out into the night. It was early for his meeting with Pierre and Jeanne, but he went down to the shore and walked slowly in the

he distance, with a cloud of jet-black smoke rising straight up from its funnels, and spreading out high up against the sky, a huge, ebon monster that cast its shadow for half a mile over the Bay. The shadow held Philip'

s a clear, metallic sound that left the vibration of steel in the air, and Philip leaned over the edge of the rock. Below him the shadow was broken into

y, guiding their canoe so that it was soon hidden in the shelter of the cliff. By the faint reflections cast by the disturbed water, Philip saw that the oc

nt time it troubled him. The manner of its approach through the shadow, the strange quiet of its occupants, the stealth with

It was impossible to miss them. He walked without sound in his moccasins, keeping close to the edge of the cliff so that he could look out over the Bay. Two or three hundred yards beyond the big

iff, and with each moment his nervousness increased. What if Jeanne failed him? What if she did not come to the rock? The mere thought made his heart sink with a sudden painful thro

of cliff. Again his watch tinkled the half-hour, and he

rustled in the spruce and balsam tops of the forest that reached up to the barren whiteness of the rock plateau on which he stood; under him he

e cliff, a second cry, and then the scream of a woman, deadened by the

elp. With an answering shout he ran like a swift-footed animal along the cliff. It was Jeanne who was calling! Who else but Jeanne would be out there in the gray night-

ock, looking across upon a strange scene. In the brilliant moonlight, with his back against a rock, stood Pierre, his glistening rapier in his hand, his thin, lithe body bent for the attack of three men who faced him. It was but a moment's tableau. The men r

In a moment it

n were fighting now so that Pierre had been forced between his assailants

!" shouted P

is ears. A second shot, and Pierre fell down like one dead among the rocks. Again Philip fired-a third and a fourth time, and one of the three who were disappearing in the white gloom stumbled over a rock,

alled. "Ho! Pi

answer from t

hed, blood flowed from a cut in his forehead when he dragged himself up to the face of the cliff again. He tried to shout when he saw a figure drag itself

eld what remained of the rapier, which had broken off close to the hilt. His eyes were blazing li

h Jeanne!" The rapier slipped from his hand and he slid weakly down against the rock. Philip dropped upon his knees, and with hi

urged. "Tell me-quick! Th

at effort he seemed to marshal all of

to meet you at the rock. There were four. One of them is dead-back there. The

se to his feet. Then with a groan he sank back

e cried. "I will bring

etained him as

swe

es

e is a canoe. They have

sudden fear at the dizziness which was turning th

her to Fort o' God. Lose not an hour-not a minute. Trust no one. Hide yourselve

lding his head so that he could look into the st

said. "I will take her t

ghting to understand, fighting to hold for another breath

. To-morrow you must go to Churchill and hunt up a man named Gregson-the man I was with when you and Jeanne came to see the ship. Tell hi

rd for Gregson. Pierre still looke

bent cl

"that I am on the tra

arms, striving to speak. A trickle of fresh blood ran over his face. Incoherent sounds rattled in his throat, and then, overcome by his effort, he dropped back unconscious. Philip wound his handkerchief about the wounded man's head

ed him. In his path, with its face turned straight up to the moonlit sky, lay the body of a man. For an instant Philip bent over it. The broken blade of Pierre's rapier glistened under the man's throat. On

to the face of the dead man. Whe

his face and body. This man who lay with the broken blade of Pierre Couchee's rapier in hi

him now as he gazed down into the staring eyes at his feet. What did it all mean? Why had Lord Fitzhugh's name been sufficient to drag the half-breed back from the brink of unconsciousness? What significance was there in this strange combin

nt for. He shuddered as he returned his revolver into his holster and braced his limbs. It was an unpleasant task, but he knew that it must be done-to save Pierre. He lifted the body clear of the roc

d on, as Pierre

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