For some time he had been wondering what course of action he would take if Phil refused to fall in with his plans, and had already begun to think that it was time to take Joe into his confidence; but he soon found that subterfuge was unnecessary, for Gallatin was directing their course with an unerring definiteness to his own farthest camp among the hills. John Kenyon guessed something of what was passing in the mind of the younger man, and over the camp-fire watched him furtively. The sun and wind had tanned him and the vigorous exercise had brought an appetite that had filled the hollows of his cheeks; but in spite of the glow of health and youth and the delight of their old friendship, a shadow still hung in Phil Gallatin’s eyes, which even the joy of the present could not dispel. Kenyon smoked quietly and asked subtle questions about their further pilgrimage.
“To-morrow we’ll reach the permanent camp, eh, Joe?” said Gallatin.
Keegón nodded.
“We’ll stay there for a while—fish and explore.”
As the time approached for his dénouement, Kenyon had a guilty sense of intrusion which tempered his delight in the possible success of the venture. But he remembered that he had had little to do in shaping the course of events or the direction of their voyage, except to modify the speed of their journeys so that Phil might reach the spot intended at the appointed time. Phil seemed drawn forward as though by a lodestar to his destination, as though some force greater than his own will was impelling him.
Kenyon had taken pains to keep a record by the calendar. It was the twenty-eighth of June. The next day Kenyon changed places with Phil and went in Joe’s canoe, when he took the old Indian into his confidence.
“We will camp to-night. To-morrow Phil will want to go fishing alone. You must keep him in camp until the next day. Then you must go with him in the morning, and lead him to the camp in the hills where the deer was killed. Comprenez?”
Joe had learned to understand this grave, quiet man from the city, who did his share of the work and who never complained, and he recognized, by its contrast to this docility and willingness, the sudden voice of authority. He nodded.
“A’right,” he said, with a nod. “I take heem.”