"You're right," agreed Dick. "She must have seen our fire, and if she'd wanted t' see us she'd ha' come over. Now I'm wonderin' why she didn't."
At mid-forenoon the following day the tilt on the last lake, where Manikawan had snatched a few hours' sleep, was reached, and mounting the ridge above, the river was discovered beyond.
At the end of the portage trail the three trappers held a hurried consultation. At length, carefully concealing their packs among the bushes, and with rifles held in position for instant use, they turned noiselessly up along the river bank, following the water closely, and taking almost exactly the course followed the previous morning by Manikawan.
They were aware that they were now beyond the bounds of the region avoided by the Indians, and they also had no doubt that the Indian camp was situated farther up the river, probably at some convenient landing-place for canoes.
Finally Ed Matheson, who had the lead, halted and held up his hand.
"Smoke," he whispered, sniffing the air. "Aye," whispered Dick, also sniffing.
Ed now sank to his hands and knees, pausing frequently in his advance to reconnoitre. Presently he ceased to move, his rifle extended before him, until Dick and Bill drew along side.
"There's th' fire," he whispered, "an' there's where they was camped, but it's lookin' t' me as if they's gone."
The smouldering embers of a camp-fire in the centre of the open spot where the wigwam had stood the previous day, lay directly in front of them. On a tree hung some unfinished snow-shoe frames, and there were many signs of a hurried departure.
"What you think?" Dick whispered.