It was a pair of canoes moored close in to the bank. Two powerful canoes, which were larger and better built than those of trading Indians. Then there were two neches squatting on the bank crouching over a small fire smoking their red clay pipes in silent contemplation.
Jessie recognized the neches at a glance.
"Why, Murray must be back or——"
Kars turned abruptly.
"They're Murray's? Say——" He glanced up at the hill which stood over them. A well-beaten path led up through the pine woods.
Jessie understood the drift of his thought.
"That's a short way to the Fort," she said. "I wonder why he landed here. He doesn't generally."
But the man had no speculation to offer.
"We best get his news," he said indicating the path.
The moments of Jessie's delight had been swallowed up in the significance of Murray's return. She agreed eagerly. And her eagerness displayed the nearness to her heart of the terror of the marauding Indians.