Stonor went ashore at Ahcunazie’s village, searched every tepee, and questioned the inhabitants down to the very children. The result was nil. The Indians one and all denied that Imbrie had come back up the river. Stonor was convinced that they were lying. He said nothing of what had happened down at the falls, though the young Kakisa, Ahteeah, displayed no little curiosity on his own account.
They went on, making the best time they could against the current. Clare wielded a third paddle now. The river was no less beautiful; the brown flood moved with the same grace between the dark pines; but they had changed. They scarcely noticed it. When they talked it was to discuss the problem that faced them in businesslike voices. Like the Kakisas they searched the shores now, but they were looking for two-legged game. What other Indians they met on the river likewise denied having seen Imbrie.
Stonor had in mind the fact that the devoted Kakisas could hide Imbrie in any one of a thousand places along the shores. It was impossible for him to make a thorough search single-handed, nor did he feel justified in remaining on the river with Clare. His plan was to return to Fort Enterprise as quickly as possible, making the best search he could by the way, and, after obtaining assistance, to return. In the end, unless he got out, the river would be like a trap for Imbrie. It was quite likely that he understood this, and was even now struggling to get away as far as possible.
On the morning of the tenth day after leaving Imbrie’s shack they arrived at the Horse Track, and Ahchoogah’s village. Their coming was hailed with the same noisy excitement, in which there was no trace of a welcome. Stonor instantly sought out the head man, and abruptly demanded to know when Imbrie had returned, and where he had gone. Ahchoogah, with the most perfect air of surprise, denied all knowledge of the White Medicine Man, and in his turn sought to question Stonor as to what had happened. It was possible, of course, that Ahchoogah’s innocence was real, but he had the air of an accomplished liar. He could not quite conceal the satisfaction he took in his own fine acting.
Stonor posted Clare at the door of the shack, whence she could overlook the entire village, with instructions to raise an alarm if she saw anybody trying to escape. Meanwhile, with Mary, he made his usual search among the tepees, questioning all the people. Nothing resulted from this, but on his rounds he was greatly elated to discover among the canoes lying in the little river the one with the peculiar notches cut in the bow-thwart. So he was still on his man’s track! He said nothing to any one of his find.
He set himself to puzzle out in which direction Imbrie would likely next have turned. Certainly not to Fort Enterprise; that would be sticking his head in the lion’s mouth. It was possible Ahchoogah might have concealed him in the surrounding bush, but Stonor doubted that, for they knew that the policeman must soon be back, and their instinct would be to get the man safely out of his way. There remained the third Kakisa village at Swan Lake, seventy miles up the river, but in that case, why should he not have gone on in the canoe? However, Stonor learned from Mary that it was customary for the Kakisas to ride to Swan Lake. While it was three days’ paddle up-stream it could be ridden in a day. In fact, everything pointed to Swan Lake. If Imbrie was trying to get out of the country altogether the upper Swan provided the only route in this direction. Stonor decided to take the time to pay a little surprise visit to the village there.
Stonor announced at large that he was returning to Fort Enterprise that same day. Ahchoogah’s anxiety to speed his departure further assured him that he was on the right track. Collecting their horses and packing up, they were ready for the trail about five that afternoon. The Indians were more cordial in bidding them farewell than they had been in welcoming them. There was a suspicious note of “good riddance” in it.
After an hour’s riding they came to the first good grass, a charming little “prairie” beside the stream that Clare had christened Meander. Stonor dismounted, and the two women, reining up, looked at him in surprise, for they had eaten just before leaving the Indian village, and the horses were quite fresh, of course.
“Would you and Mary be afraid to stay here all night without me?” he asked Clare.
“Not if it is necessary,” she answered promptly. “That is, if you are not going into danger,” she added.