As his mind asked the question, he visioned Gerald Ainley, and was suddenly conscious of a great anger. Was it possible that he——? He broke off the question in his mind without finishing it; but lifted his clenched hand and shook it before the silent wilderness. His attitude was full of dumb menace, and left in no doubt his belief as to who was the author of the event that had befallen him.
CHAPTER III
A LOST GIRL
Mr. Gerald Ainley standing in the meadow outside the Post, looked towards the river bank with smiling eyes. Where Hubert Stane's little tent had been the willows now showed an unbroken line, and he found that fact a source of satisfaction. Then between the willows he caught sight of a moving figure, and after one glance at it, began to hurry forward. A moment later the figure emerged from the willows and stood on the edge of the meadow, revealing its identity as that of the English girl with whom he had walked on the previous day. Without observing him the girl turned round and began to walk towards the Indian encampment and Ainley immediately altered his course, walking quickly so as to intercept her. He joined her about a score of paces from the tents and smilingly doffed his cap.
"Good morning, Miss Yardely. You are astir early."
Helen Yardely laughed lightly. "It is impossible to do anything else in this country, where it is daylight all the time, and birds are crying half the night. Besides we are to make a start after breakfast."
"Yes, I know; I'm going with you."
"You are going with us, Mr. Ainley!" There was a little note of surprise in the girl's tones. "My uncle has not mentioned it!"