With this sage advice, the veteran missionary started back over the trail, his mind already speeding to other matters now that he had done all he might in the one at hand.
For just a moment the lovers who had been through so many trying experiences enjoyed their first interval alone since the Montreal parting. This was more mental than physical in view of the stress of the situation.
"You've explained to Ruth?" Seymour asked presently.
"In part—that you're the real Russell Seymour. She still thinks that this Bart was an officer but using your name for some official reason. I haven't told father about Oliver yet, and—should I tell him?"
As often, Seymour's expression was an enigma to her.
"Not yet," he said finally. "It just may take some of the sting away if you can present him with a son-in-law in partial place of his first-born who cannot be returned."
"You think, Russell—oh, do you think you are on the track——"
"I'll get him—Karmack—somewhere," he assured her.
Having knotted his rope at fifteen-inch intervals, the sergeant made one end fast to a sturdy young cedar which grew near the edge and cast the loose end into the cañon. As nearly as he could determine by peering over, the hemp reached almost, if not quite, to the ledge.
"How soon shall we look for your return?" Moira asked a bit hysterically when all was ready.