On top of the knoll they came to a stand. The little enclosure containing the two graves was behind them; and behind that again, the grove of pines. On either side the ground sloped steeply down, and in front it broke off into nothingness.
“Well, here we are,” said Conacher lightly; “that was easy!”
“The hardest is before us,” murmured Loseis.
Stepping to the edge of the cut-bank, they looked over. The precipitous slide of earth, almost as pale as snow at their feet, was gradually swallowed in the murk. The fact that they could not see the bottom of it, made the leap appear doubly terrible.
“Does your heart fail you, dear?” murmured Conacher.
“Not as long as you are beside me,” she whispered.
“Remember to let yourself go limp when you hit the dirt,” he said. “Gravity will do the rest. I’ll be there before you, because I’m heavier.”
He blew up the little air cushion that was strapped to her back.
They could hear the Crees working around the north side of the hill. It was evidently expected that the fugitives meant to run back along the top of the ridge. Below them the river revealed itself merely as a grayish band, a shade or two lighter than its shores. They could just make out the disturbance created by two furiously driven bark canoes about to land below. These had headed for the south side of the hill. There was some underbrush on that side; and when the occupants landed they could be heard smashing through it. They were evidently working up that side with the object of coming in touch with the other party.
“This is better than I could have hoped for,” said Conacher cheerfully. “We have got them all on the hill.”