Blaise went on with his explanation. “What broke the tree? The wind? Sound birches are not easily broken by wind. They sway, they bend, sometimes they are tipped over at the roots. But the stem itself is not broken unless it is rotten or the storm violent. Here are no signs of strong wind. There are no other broken trees near this one.”
“That is true,” murmured Hugh looking about him.
“Now we will look at the break,” Blaise continued confidently. “See, the trunk is sound, but it has been cut with an axe, cut deep and bent down. And here, look here!” His usually calm voice was thrilling with excitement. He was pointing to some small cuts in the white bark just below the break.
“J. B., father’s initials!” cried Hugh.
Blaise laid his finger on his lips to remind his companion that caution must still be observed. They had heard no further sound and had seen no sign of a human being, but the half-breed lad had not forgotten the sharp report that had so startled him in the dawn. It was best to move silently and speak with lowered voice.
Blaise led the way down the narrow cross gully, so narrow that where a tree grew,—and trees seemed to grow everywhere on this wild island where they could push down a root,—there was scarcely room to get by. After a few hundred yards of such going, the ravine began to widen. The walls became higher and so sheer that nothing could cling to them but moss, lichens and sturdy crevice plants. Under foot there was no longer any soil, only pebbles and broken rock fragments. Ahead, beyond the deep shadow of the cleft, lay sunlit water. This was evidently another of the fissures that ran down through the outer rock ridge to the water, fissures that were characteristic of that stretch of shore.
“We are coming back to the lake through another crack much like the one where the old boat lies,” said Hugh. “We must be off the trail somewhere. There is no place here to hide furs.”
Blaise, who was still ahead, did not answer. He was closely scanning the rock wall on either side. A moment later, he paused and gave a little grunt of interest or satisfaction.
“What is it?” Hugh asked.
Blaise took another step forward, and pointed to the right hand wall. A narrow fissure extended from top to bottom. So narrow was the crack that Hugh rather doubted whether he could squeeze into it.