“I need sleep too. And Mary.”
“Of course! How selfish of me! We can start towards evening, then.”
While Clare was setting the biscuits to the fire in the shack, and Stonor was chopping wood outside, Mary came out for an armful of wood. The opportunity of speaking to her privately was too good to be missed.
“Mary,” said Stonor. “There’s a dead body caught in the rapids below here.”
“Wah!” she cried, letting the wood fall. “You teenk it is him?”
“I don’t know. I suppose so. I’ve got to find out.”
“Find out? In the rapids? How you goin’ find out? You get carry over the falls!”
“Not so loud! I’ve got it all doped out. I’m taking no unnecessary chances. But I’ll need you to help me.”
“I not help you,” said Mary rebelliously. “I not help you drown yourself—for a dead man. He’s dead anyhow. If you go over the falls what we do? What we do?”
“Easy! I told you I had a good plan. Wait and see what it is. Get her to sleep this afternoon, and we’ll try to pull it off before she wakes. Now run on in, or she’ll wonder what we’re talking about. Don’t show anything in your face.”