the paddle and save herself. And he
cursed himself, more bitterly than he had ever cursed an enemy, when his
empty hands showed him that he had left his rifle in his cabin.

His pistol, however, was at his belt, and his hand reached for it. But
the range was already too far for any hope of accurate pistol fire. His
hard eyes gazed along the short, black barrel. His steady finger pressed
back against the trigger.

The first shot fell far short. The pistol was of large caliber but small
velocity; and a hundred yards was its absolute limit of point-blank
range. He lifted the gun higher and shot again. Again he shot low. But
the third bullet fell just a few feet on the near side of the canoe.

He had the range now, and he shot again. It was like a dream, outside
his consciousness, that Beatrice was screaming with fear and amazement.
She was already too far to give or receive a message: all hope lay in
the pistol alone. The fifth shot splashed water beyond the craft.

Once more he fired, but the boat was farther distant now, and the bullet
went wild. The pistol was empty. Like a moose leaping through a marsh he
turned back to his cabin for his rifle.

But already he knew that he was lost. Before ever he could climb up the
hundred yards to the cabin, and back again, the craft would be around
the bend in the river. Heavy brush would hide it from then on. He
hastened frantically up the narrow, winding trail.

XX

Ben was fully aware, as he pushed the canoe from landing, that the
success of his scheme was not yet guaranteed. Long ago, in the hard
school of the woods, he had found out life; and one of the things he had
learned was that nothing on earth is infallible and no man's plans are
sure. There are always coincidents of which the scheming brain has not
conceived: the sudden interjection of unexpected circumstances. The
unforeseen appearance of Beatrice's father on the landing had been a
case in point.

Most of all he had been afraid that Beatrice herself would leap from the
canoe and attempt to swim to safety. He had learned in his past
conversations with her that she had at least an elementary knowledge of
swimming. Had she not confessed at the same time fear of the water, his
plan could have never been adopted. The northern girls have few
opportunities to obtain real proficiency in swimming. Their rivers are
icy cold, their villages do not afford heated natatoriums. Yet he
realized that he must quiet her sus