From end to end the sweep of pebbles was clearly distinct; but there was no dark figure moving about it, and Nasmyth wondered if they had come too late. They had marched fast, as his aching muscles testified, but they had been delayed at the cañon and Gladwyne had had a long start. If he had arrived and had visited the cache, their efforts might prove to have been thrown away. There must be no shadow of doubt when Lisle told his startling story.
They descended with caution, moving through shadow, for the ridge above them cut off the moonlight, though it was far from dark, and they were near the bottom when Crestwick dislodged a bank of stones which went rattling and crashing down to the beach. A moment later a black form sprang out from among the rocks below and ran hurriedly along the shingle. This surprised Nasmyth because he could not doubt that the man was Gladwyne and he failed to understand his object in making what would probably be a futile attempt to avoid them. Lisle was some distance in front, and his voice rang out sharply:
“Head him off from the canoe!”
Nasmyth broke into a stumbling run—it was now obvious that Gladwyne meant to cross the river, and perhaps destroy the second cache.
Gladwyne had reached the canoe when Lisle gained the beach, and Nasmyth, descending in reckless haste, saw him hurriedly turn it over and raise the forward end of it. Lisle was running his hardest, almost as if he were fresh, up the long strip of shingle; but it was evident that he would be too late, and they would have no means of following Gladwyne after the canoe was launched. There was a sharp rattle of stones as he hauled it down; Lisle was still some way behind; Gladwyne sprang on board and thrust the light craft off, and a few strokes of the paddle drove her well out into the stream.
Lisle stopped, standing in the moonlight, and his comrade could see his hands tightly clenched at his side; then he suddenly tore off his jacket and flung it behind him. Noticing this, Nasmyth attempted to increase his pace. The river was running fast, swollen with melted snow, and Lisle must be badly worn out. If he had to be restrained by force, he should not attempt to swim across.
Then, to Nasmyth’s astonishment, Gladwyne leaned over the stern of the craft and began to paddle desperately with one hand. This proceeding caused Lisle to stop again, close at the water’s edge.
“Come back!” he shouted.
Nasmyth ran up and Lisle turned.
“He’s dropped or broken his paddle—cracked it when he shoved her out. There are two or three ugly rocks in the rapid.”