“The colonel an'—Miss Isobel,” he said. “They wanted to see you so bad that I had men out for three days after you'd gone looking for you. Couldn't even find your trail. I'm curious to know what was up.”
Philip laughed. He felt a tingling joy running through every vein in his body. It was difficult for him to repress the trembling eagerness in his voice, as he said: “Well, I'm here. I wonder if they want to see me—now.”
“Suppose they do,” replied Breed, slowly lighting his pipe. “But you've hung off too long. They're gone.”
“Gone?” Philip stared at the factor.
“Gone?” he demanded again.
“Left this morning—for Churchill,” affirmed Breed. “Two sledges, two Indians, the colonel and Miss Isobel.”
For a few moments Philip stood in silence, staring straight out through the one window of the room with his back to the factor.
“Did they leave any word for me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then—I must follow them!” He spoke the words more to himself than to Breed. The factor regarded him in undisguised astonishment and Philip, turning toward him, hastened to add: “I can't tell you why. Breed—but it's necessary that I overtake them as soon as possible. I don't want to lose a day—not an hour. Can you lend me a team and a driver?”