"Good!" cried Garth in high satisfaction. "You can dry your clothes here, anyway."
A glance up and down the shore of the river revealed no trace of the canoes or the outfit of the expedition they were in pursuit of.
"We've missed him again," said Garth grimly.
They landed, dripping and stiff; and plodded through the sand to the tiny door. The outlook was desolate in the extreme; there was no sign of life anywhere, save only the wisp of smoke from the chimney. At their left hand, the lake spread bleakly to the horizon, torn and white under the west wind, and with great billows tumbling on the beach.
"The Flat-iron could never negotiate that," remarked Garth.
He knocked on the little door.
"Come in!" rang instantly from within.
They looked at each other in astonishment.
"An English voice!" she whispered.