“It—it—why, it’s as if I dreamed that I saw them,” he said aloud.
As if to convince himself that he had not been dreaming, he followed along the bank to the spot where the crude bearskin boat had pushed off. There he found unmistakable signs; footprints told who had been there but an hour before.
“Left behind!” He buried his face in his hands.
At that instant a sound from behind him caused him to start. Turning quickly about, he found himself staring into the beady eyes of the hunchback.
CHAPTER XXV
ADVENTURE IN PANTOMIME
On a river ever broadening as it made its way toward the far distant sea, rode a crude skin canoe. In the canoe rode Gordon Duncan, his granddaughter Faye and the two Indians. They had not left that canoe since they entered it, and that had been sixteen hours back.
To the white man and the girl this wild journey had been a constant strain; to the Indians it was but the day’s work. Many times before for twenty, thirty hours they had ridden thus without sleeping.
To land now was impossible; to turn back was out of the question. Besides, who would turn back? Had they not, but a quarter of an hour ago, caught a glimpse of that which they sought?
They had rounded a rocky ledge where the river ran between low hills and had come upon a long, straight stretch of water. At the end of that stretch a dark object specked the water.
Gordon Duncan had lifted the glass once to his eyes and said: