"Was Pemaou, the Huron, one of them?"
"He was guide. Monsieur, what do you mean?"
I could not answer. My throat was dry as if I breathed a furnace blast. I looked at the canoe under my hands. It was not seaworthy. "Will your canoe carry two?" I cried.
He nodded. His great rough face was sickly with suspense. "Monsieur, what does this mean?"
I swore at him and at the hour he had made me lose. "Men passed me in a fog. They have been hiding here for a day at least. Show me your canoe. We must get to camp. Yes, come with me. Come, show me your canoe."
CHAPTER XX
WHAT I FOUND
Once in the canoe I bade Lord Starling crouch low, and I paddled fiercely. I breathed hard not from exertion, but like a swimmer fighting for his breath. I was submerged in waves of terror, yet I had no name for what I feared. I learned then that there is but one real terror in the world,—fear of the unseen. The man who feels terror of an open foe must be a strange craven.
Lord Starling respected my mood and was silent. He sat warily, shifting his weight to suit the plunging canoe.
"The fog chokes me," he said at length. "How large a camp have you?
Whom did you leave on guard?"