“No, nothing. We examined thoroughly both shores of the rapids, and found nothing, and no mark or sign of any thing about which any conclusion could be formed respecting the manner the canoe got there.”
“But the oars?”
“We found them in the same flood-wood with the boat, and they appeared as if they were thrown out of the canoe when it struck.”
The canoe, which was the object of scrutiny, and which had been injured much less than had been supposed, a break in the upper part of the bow being the only ruptured part, was now drawn up on the shore; when Phillips, Codman, and Tomah took upon themselves to go into a minute and careful inspection of every part of its outer and inner surface, together with every appearance from which any inference having the least bearing on the question at issue could be drawn by these experienced and observing canoe-men.
“Men no leave oars in canoe, when go over falls,” at length observed the Indian, standing back with the air of one who has satisfied himself with an examination,—“no leave oars that way; have them out to use; and then, when upset, drop ’em in the river; where get scattered, go down, wash up different places, mile apart, may be,—not together, right close side of canoe, likely. Don’t believe so much story, like that come to.”
“Spoke like a man who knows something,” said the trapper, the next to offer comments. “And here is a loosened slip-knot in the end of this bark boat-rope, which I have been looking at. See! it has been drawn into a fixed knot, that hasn’t been altered since it has had considerable use and steady pulling through it, as I see by the chafed bark inside the small hole within the knot. The hole is too small to have been brought into this shape by hitching it to a stake or projecting limb of a tree on shore. It looks exactly as if a tie attached to some other canoe had been passed through it, to draw this canoe along by; and here is a slight mark of a knife, where that tie has been cut out, owing to the difficulty of untying. This canoe must have been hitched behind some other canoe, and towed down to the head of the rapids, and there sent adrift.”
“Yes,” responded the hunter, who had been particularly confining his attention to the outer and top edges along the sides of the boat; “yes; and here is the moss or scurf that had gathered on these upper edges, on both sides, during the snows and thaws of winter, still remaining entire and unbroken, in every part of this delicate weather coating, which even a thumbnail, as you see, can’t pass over without marring it or leaving a mark. No man could have rowed this canoe twenty rods without grazing these edges and leaving marks on them. Yes, you are both right. This canoe, which I suppose you all agree was Mr. Elwood’s, has not been rowed since he left it hauled up on the shore of the Oquossak last fall, to be buried by the great snow-storm; and the Elwoods are both safe, for all being wrecked and drowned from that boat, or any other, I presume.”
The countenance of Mrs. Elwood, who stood at some little distance from the spot where the examination of the canoe had been going on, but near enough to hear most of what was said, visibly brightened at this announcement. The hunter saw the expression, and a shade of anguish passed over his face, as, turning to those immediately around him, and speaking in a low, subdued, and commiserating tone, he resumed:
“I cannot find it in my heart to dampen the new-lighted hope which this turn of the affair seems to give that poor, wretched wife and mother. But, to my mind, all this makes it doubly certain that the Elwoods have met with foul play. It looks exactly like one of Gaut’s devilish schemes of finesse, to cause this canoe to be sent down the rapids, and be so found as to lead folks to suppose the owners were drowned, and to put the public on a false scent. Yes, friends, you may depend there has been foul play,—I dare not guess how foul. I have felt it the last fortnight, as if some unseen hand was writing the dreadful secret on my heart. I feel it still, now stronger than ever. And I call God to witness my resolution, that I will know no rest or relaxing till I see the dark deed laid open to day, and its infernal author brought to justice. Will you all join me in the work, without flinching or flagging?”
The low but firmly-responded “Yes, yes, all of us,” told the hunter that he would know no lack of efficient aid in carrying out his resolution.