must have caught on that snag.
Have you found anything else?"

"A-ha-ha. Injun track, see," and he pointed to the ground just in
front of him.

Dane stooped and without much difficulty he was able to discern the
imprint of a moccasined-foot where it had pressed a small mound of
sand. He straightened himself up and looked around.

"Any more such tracks, Pete?"

"A-ha-ha, down on shore. Canoe come dere. Injun carry off white
woman, eh?"

"There is no doubt about it. And we've got to find her. Are you ready
to help me?"

"A-ha-ha, Pete ready. Pete get canoe, eh?"

"All right, and I'll be with you in a few minutes."

Half an hour later Pete's canoe, the old reliable, which the rangers
had brought back to the settlement, was again headed up river. Dane
sat astern and drove his paddle into the water with the force of a
Titan. He had been greatly stirred at times in the past, but never
such as now. The blood surged madly through his veins, and the muscles
of his bared arms stood out like whips of steel. He thought of the
cowardly attack upon the helpless girl, the one he loved better than
life. Where was she now? Perhaps already she had become the victim of
Seth Lupin. The idea was horrible, and his paddle bent as the
glittering blade carved the water. But the base Lupin should not
escape. He would track him, if necessary, to the farthest bounds. He
would find him, and when he had found him . . .

The sun of the now shortened day dipped below the far-off western
horizon. A chilly breeze drifted up with the tide. Gradually the
trees along the shore became indistinct. The stars tumbled out one by
one. Silence reigned on water and land. But still the canoe sped
noiselessly onward. Not once had Dane spoken to the Indian; his mind
was too much occupied with other things. The picture of a white head
bowed with grief as he had last seen it at the settlement, rose before
him. What agony of soul was that silent man now undergoing. He
emitted a slight groan, which caused Pete to glance quickly around.

"Dane seek, eh?" he queried.

"Not sick, Pete; only mad. I'm in hell."

"A-ha-ha, me know. Bad, eh?"

Dane's only reply was a more vigorous stroke than ever, which caused
the canoe to quiver as it leaped forward. He was too much excited as
yet to form any definite line of action. He thought only of the Indian
encampments along the river and the various tributaries. Surely at one
of these h