"But how do you think she got into that boat alone?" questioned Grey. "That's what I've been trying to solve ever since we left the house over there."
The trapper scratched his head, dove his hand deep into his pocket, and brought forth a plug of tobacco, turned it carefully over and bit off a corner.
"It's one of three things," he began, "an' I've thought 'em all over. In some places it might be an accident, but not among the Big Lake Injuns. Sich a thing 'ud not happen among 'em. Then, the gal might have tried to escape. But as the kid wasn't with her that proposition's outer the question."
"But maybe the boy is dead," Grey suggested. "He has come through much lately, and perhaps the trip has knocked him out."
"No, pardner, I don't think it likely. The lassie 'ud look after 'im. She's the kind that 'ud care fer the little chap fust."
"Well, then, what is your idea, Dan?"
"That woman was sent inter them foamin' white caps to die. That's what it was."
"Dan, Dan!" Grey cried in amazement. "What do you mean? What reason would the Indians have for doing such a deed, and especially to her?"
"Can't tell ye that, laddie. Ye kin never trust them varmints, perticularly when there's an Injun woman along. But come, if we stop here talkin' all day they'll git too fer ahead of us. We're on the right trail, an' if we're goin' to do anythin' let's git on."