the camp, and the
next effort would be easier, since the stern was nearly afloat.

"Again!" he gasped. "Quietly, but with all your strength!"

The roller ran smoothly and they followed the canoe down. When their
feet were in the water they gave her a last push and small ripples
splashed about them as she slid out on the lake. The impetus would carry
her some distance and the off-shore breeze would do the rest.

"I guess we'll light out now," Drummond remarked.

They regained the point and the camp was quiet. The canoe was
distinguishable, but Thirlwell thought he would not have seen her had he
not known where to look; it was plain that she was drifting across the
lake. Five minutes later they heard somebody coming through the bush,
and dropped behind a boulder. They could not see the man, but heard him
push through a thicket and then stumble among some stones. He passed,
and when they went on again Drummond laughed.

"Looks as if he was pretty savage, but he's hitting up a smarter clip
than I thought he could make. Guess he'll feel worse in the morning."

Thirlwell agreed. The canoe would be out of sight when Stormont reached
the camp, and it was unlikely that he would miss her until next day. She
was, no doubt, loaded with food and prospecting tools, and Thirlwell had
gained an important advantage by setting her adrift, since Stormont
would not venture farther north without supplies. He had probably some
stores in camp and would find the canoe, but if she stranded on a beach
far up the lake, the search might cost some time. The delay would give
Thirlwell a longer start.

He had fitted the new planks in his canoes and when he got back wakened
the _Metis_ and melted the caulking gum. By daybreak the seams were hard
and after a hurried breakfast the party paddled across the lake. He
would sooner have waited to see if Stormont would try to retaliate, but
this would be rash. If the canoes were damaged or he were injured, it
might prevent him from getting back to record the claims.

CHAPTER XXIX

GEORGE REPROACHES HIMSELF

The days were getting shorter fast, but the evening was warm when George
Strange leaned against the rails of Farnam's veranda. He had arrived,
looking anxious, as supper was served, but did not state why he felt
disturbed and Mrs. Farnam waited. She knew he had come to consult her,
and thought she knew what about. Now he gazed moodily across the
orchard, where red and yellow apples gleam