"Then what are you going to do about it?" Agatha asked anxiously.
"Get away from here at once, and as far as possible keep to the lakes; water carries no trail. Then Stormont has decided a point that has been bothering me—since he's gone east, we must go north or west."
"Yes. Unless it's possible that his clue is better than ours."
"I thought about that," Thirlwell replied. "We don't know if he has a clue, but we'll stick to ours and take the risk. Your father's directions are plain enough if we can find the first of his landmarks."
"Then go west," said Agatha. "I imagine the creek is on this side of the range."
Thirlwell got up and went to see the canoes launched, but he wondered whether Agatha remembered that there were only two or three days of the fortnight left. He thought she did remember, but he resolved that they would not turn back.
Soon after they started, a fresh breeze sprang up from the north-west and the shadows of flying clouds sped across the lake. The sky between the clouds was a curious vivid blue, the light was strong, and the woods along the bank flashed into bright color and faded to somber green as the gleams of sunshine passed. For a few minutes, trunks and branches stood out, sharply distinct, and then melted suddenly into their background. By degrees the ripples that lined the lake got larger; there was an angry splashing at the bows of the canoes, and little showers of spray began to fly.
"This clearness means the wind will hold and it's right ahead," Thirlwell said to Agatha, "We haven't had much luck of late!"
"The luck will change," she answered, smiling. "I am confident."
"Confidence doesn't cost you much effort," Thirlwell rejoined. "You were persuaded from the beginning that you would find the ore. It looks as if you were naturally optimistic."