Usak’s purpose was as clear as the brilliant light of the night. The ruthless savage was towing them out into mid-stream. Presently he would, doubtless, release their vessel when it had reached the limit of safety for himself. Then he would leave them to the hideous destruction awaiting them at the great waterfall flinging back its thunderous roar out of the heart of the mists enshrouding it.
There was no succour that he could offer. He was without any means of reaching them with his own canoe already below the Falls. And his automatic pistol was useless. No. He could only stand there helplessly watching the terrible tragedy of it all.
Now he knew the thing that must have happened. He vividly pictured the coming of Usak, whom they must have passed higher up the river on their way down. The stillness of the figures in the boat was terribly significant.
The man must have come upon them in their hiding, perhaps asleep. He must have overpowered them. Probably he had bound them hand and foot when he set them in the boat, so that the blindman, no less than the other, should contemplate, even if it was only through his hearing, the dreadful death he was preparing for them.
He caught his breath. Then in a moment he hurled the full force of his impotent loathing in a furious shout across the water.
“You swine! God Almighty!”
The exclamation came as he saw the man cease paddling and reach out to the rope behind him. In a moment it was severed, and the trailing boat began instantly to turn broadside on to the current.
The watching man gave a gasp. Then the broadside boat was forgotten, and his whole attention was given to the other, the boat containing the demented creature perpetrating his long-pondered crime.
Usak’s paddle was beating the water furiously. He was striving with all his enormous strength and skill to swing his light vessel out of the stream. He was labouring in a fashion that instantly warned the on-looker of the peril besetting him. And the sight of the struggle thrilled him with an excitement which had no relation to any desire for the man’s escape.
Usak was a superb river man. Perhaps he had no equal upon the northern waters. But he was an Indian with the lust to kill, and without the sober judgment of the whiteman watching him from the shore. Wilder understood. It was there for him to see. The Indian had gone too far in his desire. He had passed the limits of safety before he severed the rope to hurl his victims to the fate he had designed for them. He was caught in the same overwhelming rush of silent water. His paddle was no better than a toy thing to stay the rush. His kyak was caught and flung broadside. And abreast of the other it was drifting, drifting down upon the roaring cataract ahead.