"Canoes!" cried Belton.
"It's him!" came in the deep tones of the doctor.
Five minutes later they were out of the saddle and standing with others on the grassy river bank watching the steady approach of two canoes, paddling their way up against the easy, sluggish stream.
Near by were the two four-horsed wagons, and the camp-fire with the forgotten supper still wafting its pleasant odours upon the breathless air. Flies, too, and mosquitoes were in abundance. But these, like the rest, were forgotten. The men of the police outfit had eyes and thoughts for the canoes only. Each and all were wondering at that which they were to reveal.
Suddenly a shout broke the profound stillness. It came from the young officer who could restrain himself no longer.
"Ho, you, Steve!"
The shout carried away over the water. Those on the bank could almost hear it travel. Then followed what seemed an interminable interval. But it was seconds only before a faint call came back.
"Hoo-y!"
The policeman was given no opportunity for reply. The doctor's great husky voice anticipated him.
"Ho, Steve! It's Doc Ross!"