nley sharply.

"I not know! But he wait."

"Then if the mountain won't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the
mountain."

"What that?" asked the Indian.

"We will cross the river," said Ainley. "We will go look for him."

"Good!" said the Indian.

Five minutes later they were afloat once more, and in a few minutes had
landed on the further side.

"You stop here with the canoe, Joe," said Ainley picking up his rifle.
"I'll go and hunt up the fellow. If you hear me call, come along at
once."

The Indian nodded and proceeded to fill a pipe, whilst the white man,
following the track made by many feet portaging from one river to the
other, moved into the woods. He made no attempt at concealment, nor did
he move with caution, for he was assured that in the dense wood a man
burdened with a canoe could not turn aside from the path without
disaster overtaking him. If he kept straight on he was bound to meet
the man whom he sought.

That conviction proved to be well-grounded. He had been walking less
than ten minutes when he caught sight of the canoe lying directly in
his way, with the man who had been carrying it, seated on the ground
with his back against a tree, smoking. As the man caught sight of him
he started to his feet and stretched his hand towards a gun reposing
against a trunk. Holding his own rifle ready for action, Ainley shouted
reassuring words to the man, and then moved quickly forward. The man, a
half-breed, the same man who had stolen Stane's canoe, gave one keen
glance at him and then dropping his hand from the gun, awaited his
coming.

"Why did you run away when I shouted a while back?" asked Ainley
sharply.

"I not run," answered the half-breed, insolently. "I carry the canoe,
an' I tink I not wait. Dat is all."

Ainley looked at the man thoughtfully. There was something furtive
about the fellow, and he was sure that the reason given was not the
real one.

"Then why are you waiting here?" he asked with a directness that in no
way nonplussed the other.

"I take what you call a breather," answered the man stolidly. "What
matter to you?"

Ainley looked at him. He was sure the man was lying, but it was no
affair of his, and after a moment he turned to his main purpose.

"I wanted to ask you something," he said. "A white girl has been lost
on the river--she is a niece of a great man in the Company, and I am
looking for her. Have you seen her?"

"What she like?" asked the half-breed with a