earing they did not spare her. She bore it with her customary stoicism.
Ahchoogah, less honest than the rank and file, sought to commend himself
to the policeman by a pretence of friendliness. Stonor, beyond telling
him that he would hold him responsible for the safety of the horses
during his absence, ignored him.

Having stowed their outfit, they gingerly got in. Their boat, though
over twenty feet long, was only about fifteen inches beam, and of the
log out of which she had been fashioned she still retained the tendency
to roll over. Mary took the bow paddle, and Stonor the stern; Clare sat
amidships facing the policeman.

"If we can only keep on top until we get around the first bend we'll
save our dignity, anyhow," said Stonor.

They pushed off without farewells. When they rounded the first point of
willows and passed out of sight of the crowd of lowering, dark faces,
they felt relieved. Stonor was able to drop the port of august
policeman.

Said he: "I'm going to call this craft the Serpent. She's got a fair
twist on her. Her head is pointed to port and her tail to starboard. It
takes a mathematical deduction to figure out which way she's going."

Clare was less ready than usual to answer his jokes. She was pale, and
there was a hint of strain in her eyes.

"You're not bothered about Ahchoogah's imaginary terrors, are you?" he
asked.

She shook her head. "Not that."

He wondered what it was then, but did not like to ask directly. It
suddenly struck him that she had been steadily losing tone since the
first day on the trail.

Her next words showed the direction her thoughts were taking. "You said
it was two hundred miles down the river. How long do you think it will
take us to make it?"

"Three days and a bit, if my guess as to the distance is right. We have
the current to help us, and now we don't have to stop for the horses to
graze."

"They will be hard days to put in," she said simply.

Stonor pondered for a long time on what she meant by this. Was she so
consumed by impatience to arrive that the dragging hours were a torture
to her? or was it simply the uncertainty of what awaited her, and a
longing to have it over with? That she had been eager for the journey
was clear, but it had not seemed like a joyful eagerness. He was aware
that there was something here he did not understand. Women had
unfathomable souls anyway.

As far as he was concerned he frankly dreaded the outcome of the
journey.