Stonor followed the hoof-prints then through the trackless bush, painfully slow going over the stones and the fallen trunks, with many a pitfall concealed under the smooth moss. After an hour of this he finally came upon them all five standing dejectedly about in a narrow opening, as if ashamed of their escapade and perfectly willing to be caught.
Mounting Miles Aroon, he drove the others before him. To avoid the risk of breaking their legs he had to let them make their own slow pace over the down timber, and it was a sore trial to his patience. He had already been gone two hours. When finally he struck the trail again he saw that his note to Tole was still where he had left it. He let it stay, on the chance of its bringing him on a little quicker. He put his horses to the trail at a smart pace. They all clattered through the bush, making dizzying turns around the tree-trunks.
As he approached the little meadow by the Meander his heart rose slowly in his throat. He had been more anxious for their safety than he would let himself believe. As he came to the edge of the trees his eyes were ready to leap to the spot where he had left his charges. A shock awaited them. Of the three little tents there was but one remaining, and no sign of life around it. He furiously urged his horse to the place.
Mary and Clare were gone with Imbrie. The camp site was trampled by scores of hoofs. The Indians had taken nothing, however, but the two little tents and the personal belongings of the women—an odd scrupulousness in the face of the greater offence. All the tracks made off across the meadow towards the side trail back to the Swan.
CHAPTER XIV PURSUIT
Stonor sat down on a grub-box, and, gripping his bursting head between his hands, tried to think. His throbbing blood urged him to gallop instantly in pursuit. They could not have more than two hours’ start of him, and Miles Aroon was better than anything they had in the way of horse-flesh, fresh into the bargain. But a deeper instinct was telling him that a little slow thought in the beginning brings quicker results at the end.
Even with only two hours’ start they might make the village before he overtook them, and Imbrie might get away on the lake. A stern chase with all the hazards of travel in the wilderness might continue for days; Stonor was running short of grub; he must provide for their coming back; above all it was necessary that he get word out of what had happened; Clare’s safety must not depend alone on the one mortal life he had to give her. Hard as it was to bring himself to it, he determined to get in touch with Tole before starting after Imbrie and the Kakisas.
To that end he mounted one of his poorer horses and galloped headlong back through the bush. After ten miles or so, in a little open meadow he came upon the handsome breed boy riding along without a care in the world, hand on hip and “Stetson” cocked askew, singing lustily of Gentille Alouette. Never in his life had Stonor been so glad to see anybody. His set, white face worked painfully; for a moment he could not speak, but only grip the boy’s shoulder. Tole was scared half out of his wits to see his revered idol so much affected.
All the way along Stonor had been thinking what he would do. It would not be sufficient to send a message by Tole; he must write to John Gaviller and to Lambert at the Crossing; one letter would do for both; the phrases were all ready to his pencil. Briefly explaining the situation to Tole, he sat down to his note-book. Two pages held it all; Stonor would have been surprised had he been told that it was a model of conciseness.
“John Gaviller and Sergeant Lambert, R.N.W.M.P.
“While returning with my prisoner Ernest Imbrie, suspected of murder, at a point on the Horse Track six miles from Swan River, a band of Indians from Swan Lake drove off my horses, and while I was away looking for them, rescued my prisoner, and also carried off the two women in my party. Am returning to Swan Lake now with four horses. Suppose that Imbrie reaching there will take to the lake and the upper Swan, as that provides his only means of getting out of the country this way. Suggest that Mr. Gaviller get this through to Lambert regardless of expense. Suggest that Lambert as soon as he gets it might ride overland from the Crossing to the nearest point on the Swan. If he takes one of his folding boats, and takes a man to ride the horses back, he could come down the Swan. I will be coming up, and we ought to pinch Imbrie between the two of us. The situation is a serious one, as Imbrie has the whole tribe of Kakisas under his thumb. He will stop at nothing now; may be insane. The position of the women is a frightful one.
“Martin Stonor.”