"It's getting late, as it is," remarked Jack, as he looked toward the west where the sun was hovering over the horizon, and ready to take the final plunge, though, of course, it would not be dark for a long time afterwards, thanks to the length of the Northern twilight in midsummer.
"First, let's get where we can look up and down the river, principally down," was Ned's advice, "though there's a mighty slim chance that we'll see anything of our stolen canoes."
This proved to be the case, for when they had found an elevated position, where it was possible to see far down the stream, there was not a thing in sight, save a mother duck teaching her little brood to swim and find food.
"No use, seems like; they've gone a long time back," said Jimmy.
"I wonder if that was what they told the fellows over at the mine, when they mentioned a trap?" observed Frank, seriously, glancing hastily around him at the same time, as though half expecting to see a dozen ugly-faced men appear from the bushes and rocks.
"Not while Tamasjo was reading the smoke signs," Ned assured him, "or he would have learned enough to tell us what to expect when we got here. But, first of all, we ought to move off."
"You think they'll come here later on, when they learn how we got out of the old mine and headed across country—is that it, Ned?" Jack queried.
"I expect it is about like this," the patrol leader replied; "one or two men must have found our boats. For the life of me, I don't understand how it happened, except that they were paddling along on the river, and wanting to go ashore took exactly the same notion we did—that the reeds would make a good hiding place for their craft. And, as luck would have it, they ran on our canoes."
"No signs here to tell Francois or the Cree about how long back this thing happened, I reckon?" Frank put in just then.
"That's where we get a hard knock," Ned continued, with a tinge of regret in his voice; "because, as you all know, water leaves no trace. When men are fleeing from enemies, the first thing they think of is to get into a creek, and throw their pursuers, dogs and all, off the scent. So, even as clever a trailer as Tamasjo couldn't tell any better than Jimmy here whether this robbery occurred an hour ago or three of the same."