"Man with canoe," answered the Indian laconically. "He make a portage."
"Where?"
"Up river," replied the Indian with a jerk of his head. Ainley craned his neck a little and, as he did so, just caught sight of a man moving across an open place between the trees a quarter of a mile away, the canoe over his head and shoulder like a huge cowl.
"We must speak to him, Joe! Perhaps he has news," said Ainley quickly, and a second later shouted at the top of his voice. "Hal—lo—o—o!"
That the man heard the hail was sure for both of them saw him halt and turn to look downstream, but the next moment he turned, and, continuing his journey, was instantly lost in the thick of the trees.
"That was queer," said Ainley. "He heard me, but whoever he is he doesn't want to speak to us."
"We catch him," replied the Indian. "Make land below the meeting of the waters, and portage through woods to other river. Meet him there."
As he spoke the native began to make a course across the river, and Ainley asked for information.
"I don't understand, Joe. If we land below the junction how can we meet a man who lands above?"
"Both go the same way," grunted the Indian. "Walk to meet the man. We make short portage, and wait for him across the water. He come and we meet him."