He turned, and walked to the place where she stood, near where the raft had been lying. The broken withe by which it had been tied still hung to the trunk of the pine. Millicent lifted this and showed it to him.
“Do you see nothing strange in this?” she said. A glance at it was sufficient to show that it had not been broken in any ordinary way. It was cut clean through by some sharp instrument. He looked about him. Jules was still lazily working at the fire.
“Mebbe thar’s somethin’ on the tree or the rocks that did it,” he whispered.
“If there is we can find it,” said Millicent; “you had better try.”
He searched the trunk of the tree and the rocks near at hand, to find any thing which could by any possibility have cut the rope. He looked in vain. The trunk was wonderfully smooth and the rocks out of reach. There was but one supposition then. Some one had cut the withe.
“Ye don’t mean to tell me that Jules c’u’d hev the heart to do that?” said Ben.
“I do not like to suspect anybody, but I believe from my heart that it was he. I have good reason to fear him, and so have you.”
Ben turned toward the Frenchman. He had at last collected material for a fire, and Jan had kindled them into a blaze, over which he was crouching, while Jules stood watching him with a sullen and dissatisfied air.
“Come here, Jules,” said Ben. “I have something to tell ye.”
Jules looked as if he would like to refuse.