perhaps three
hundred yards. He had evidently wormed himself along an inch at a time,
to avoid giving an alarm.

When Mary cried out he had taken back to the bush on the other side of
the shack. Stonor, following the tracks, circled through the bush on
this side, and was finally led to the edge of the river-bank. The
instant that he pushed through the bushes he saw that one of the
bark-canoes was missing. Running to the place where they lay, he saw
that it was the one with the willow-bushes that was gone. No need to
look any further. There was nothing in view for the short distance that
he could see up-river.

CHAPTER IX

THE FOOT

Stonor, returning to the shack, was hailed with joy as one who might
have come back from Hades unscathed. He told Clare just what he had
found.

"What do you think?" she asked anxiously.

"Isn't it clear? He saw us coming and took to the tree. There were so
many tracks around the base of the tree that I was put off. He must have
been hidden there all the time we were looking for him and shouting. As
soon as it got dark he tried to make his get-away, but his calculations
were somewhat upset by his falling. Even after we had taken warning, he
had to risk getting into his store-room, because all his food was there.
No doubt he thought we would all be in the other room, and he could
sneak in and take what he could carry. When he was scared off by Mary's
scream he started his journey without it, that's all."

"But why _should_ he run from us--from me?"

Stonor shrugged helplessly.

She produced the little red book again. "Read something here," she said,
turning the pages.

Under her directing finger, while she looked aside, he read: "The
hardest thing I have to contend against is my hunger for her. Discipline
is of little avail against that. I spend whole days wrestling with
myself, trying to get the better of it, and think I have conquered, only
to be awakened at night by wanting her worse than ever."

"Does that sound as if he wished to escape me?" she murmured.

In her distress of mind it did not occur to her, of course, that this
was rather a cruel situation for Stonor. He did not answer for a moment;
then said in a low tone: "I am afraid his mind is unhinged. You
suggested it."

"I know," she said quickly. "But I have been thinking it over. It can't
be. Listen to this." She hastily turned the pages of the little book.
"What day is this?"

"The third of July."

"