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Dead or alive he can be nothing to you." The girl turned to him sharply, and there was a flash in her eyes and a look on her face that startled him. "Dead or alive," she said quickly, "he is more to me than you ever can be!" "Helen!" there was a note of angry protest in Ainley's voice. "You cannot think what you are saying. You must have forgotten how I love you."
The Indian replied over his shoulder. "The white Klootchman go to see the beaver! Beaver there!" He jerked his head towards a creek now opening out on the further shore, and a look of impatience came on Ainley's face.
The surprise in Ainley's face was quite genuine, as Helen saw, and she realized that whatever was to come, this part of the man's story was quite true. "No, we met no one, and we never reached Fort Winagog, because our canoe was stolen whilst we slept." "Is that so?" Ainley's face grew dark as he asked the question; then a troubled look came upon it.
Out of the wood it must be snowing like the very devil, and he can't go far. I'm going after him with Jean Bènard, and I want you to look after Chigmok and these Indians of Ainley's." "All right, Anderton! But you won't catch Ainley, you know." "Why not?" "Because," was the reply given with quiet significance, "I am afraid that Ainley has gone very far indeed."
Consumed with wrath and shame he went his way to his own camp, and seeking relief from intolerable thoughts busied himself with preparations for a start on the morrow, then schooled himself to wait as best he could, through the long hours before Ainley's appointed time. Again the midnight sun found him sitting behind his smoke-smudge, waiting, listening.
"Canoe miss this bar, and go in the current like hell to the meeting of the waters. Better we keep straight on and watch out." As they started down river again, Ainley's face took on a settled look of anxiety. It was now close on midnight, but very light, and on either bank everything could be clearly seen.
The half-breed visioned the sleeping camp once more, and with another glance at the stolen canoe, gave a calculated answer. "Yesterday. She go up zee oder river in a canoe with a white man." "Up the other river?" "Oui! I pass her and heem, both paddling. It seems likely dat dey go to Fort Winagog. Dey paddle quick." "Fort Winagog!" As he echoed the words, a look of thought came into Ainley's eyes.
He turned away and disappeared into the forest on the backward trail with Jean Bènard, and half an hour afterwards Helen emerged from her tent to find him bent over Ainley's pocket-book with a troubled look in his eyes. "What is it?" she asked looking round. "Where is Mr. Ainley and where are " "Ainley went away in the night. The others have gone after him.
Ainley's face had gone suddenly white, and there was a tremor in his voice as he asked his questions. "Do you mean he shot the girl?" "No! No! Not zee girl. He very bad shot if he try. Non! It was zee paddle he try for, an' he get it zee second shot. I in the woods this side zee river an' I see him, as he stand behind a tree to watch what zee girl she will do."
Falls! So that was the meaning of that mist among the hills. There the river plunged into a chasm, and if Helen Yardely's canoe had been swept on in the current it was indeed the end. Ainley's anxiety mounted to positive fear. He pushed from him the fried deer-meat and bacon which the other had prepared for him, and rose suddenly to his feet.
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