On the edge of the lake Corporal Downey picked up the trail. He located the cached canoes, and returning to the fire, he reached down and picked Wentworth's pipe from the gravel. "It's Thumb, all right," he said, as he stood holding the pipe. "I know his canoe. They were both here at the same time. I don't savvy that, because Wentworth left first. Thumb's trail is only three hours old. Maybe—if I hurry——"
From far to the southeastward came the sound of a shot. Downey straightened, and for the space of minutes stood tense as a pointer. The sound was not repeated—and swiftly the officer of the Mounted sped through the bush.
AN EPILOGUE
Two days later, into the trading room of the Hudson's Bay Company's post on God's Lake, burst Orcutt, white of face, shaken of nerves, and with his disheveled garments bespeaking a frenzied dash through the timber.
"What's the meaning of this?" he cried, holding out a telegram.
McNabb reached for the message and read it. "It means just what it says," he answered. "Cameron has stated it plain."
"But where is Cameron? Where is the three hundred and fifty thousand I paid him? Where is Wentworth?"
"Cameron is not here. He left after turning over your money to Wentworth. He said he held a paper that constituted Wentworth your legal representative."
"But—where is Wentworth?" gasped Orcutt.
"He left the night he got the money—a week ago to-night, wasn't it,
Dugald?"