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"One thing, Stane, we need not worry over now, and that is Miss Yardely's welfare. Assuming that Ainley has taken possession of her, no harm is likely to come to her at his hands. Whatever may be behind his pretty scheme, it will not involve bodily harm to her. We have that assurance in the position he occupies and the plan he made for her to be brought here alive.
"Yes," he answered with sudden bitterness, "I am the man whom Ainley used to know. My name is Hubert Stane, and I am a discharged convict, as I daresay he told you." The sudden access of colour in Helen Yardely's face, and the look in her eyes, told him that he had guessed correctly, but the girl did not answer the implied question. Instead she looked at the river and shuddered.
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.
He dallied with the thought for a little time, and then dismissed it. Ainley was afraid of him and shrank from meeting him, but he would hardly go to such lengths as Miskodeed's statement implied; nor would he involve Helen Yardely's life in the extreme risk incidental to an attack in force on the cabin. It was unthinkable! His mind sought other explanations.
And whilst he sat wondering, Gerald Ainley and his Indian companion, travelling late, toiled on, following the river trail to Fort Winagog on a vain quest. Slowly, and with the pungent taste of raw brandy in his mouth, Hubert Stane came to himself. The first thing he saw was Helen Yardely's white face bending over him, and the first sound he heard was a cry of sobbing gladness. "Thank God!
Hurriedly he climbed the sticky bank and began feverishly to search for any sign that could help him. Then suddenly the hope became a certainty, for in the rough grass he saw something gleam, and stooping to recover it, found that it was a small enamelled Swastiki brooch similar to one which he had seen three days before at Miss Yardely's throat.
Knowing nothing of this shorter route he naturally concluded that Helen Yardely's canoe had come down the main stream, and took the wrong course in the perfect assurance that it was the right one. So hugging the left bank they passed the junction of the rivers, and a little further on crossed to the other side to seek shelter from a rising wind, under the high bank.
"Would Miss Yardely's canoe come through that?" "Like a dry stick," answered the Indian, letting the canoe drift for a moment in order to swing into the main current of the broader stream. Ainley looked ahead. Downstream the river narrowed and the low broad banks about them gradually rose, until they were like high ramparts on either hand. The Indian pointed towards the tree-crowned cliffs.
"Miss Yardely!" the policeman cried. "Are you Sir James Yardely's niece, who was lost a few months ago?" "The very same," answered Helen smilingly. "There's a reward out for your discovery five thousand dollars, no less." "I didn't know I was worth so much," laughed the girl.
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