Philip shoved the canoe more firmly upon the shore and stepped over the side.
"This Fort o' God must be a wonderful place," he said, as he bent over to help her. "You have aroused something in me I never thought I possessed before—a tremendous curiosity."
"It is a wonderful place, M'sieur Philip," replied the girl, holding up her hands to him. "But why should you guess it?"
"Because of you," laughed Philip. "I am half convinced that you take a wicked delight in bewildering me."
He found Jeanne a comfortable spot on the bank, brought her one of the bearskins, and began collecting a pile of dry reeds and wood.
"I am sure of it," he went on. He struck a match, and the reeds flared into flame, lighting up his face.
Jeanne gave a startled cry.
"You are hurt!" she exclaimed. "Your face is red with blood."
Philip jumped back.
"I had forgotten that. I'll wash my face."