Drew then changed the subject. “You’re off for the North?”
“In an hour.”
“I’ll trail you.”
“How far?”
“Until I get a hunch to sail away on my own.”
“Which won’t be long,” Curlie grinned, and then led him away for a cup of coffee.
* * * * * * * *
In the meantime, strange and terrible things were happening to Joyce and her friends. With her team she had left the lake and had traveled two miles into the low hills when, on rounding the point of a ridge, she sighted her father.
Quite close at hand, he was bending over a rocky ledge that hung above a rushing cataract. “A dangerous position,” she told herself. “One step and—”
To her great consternation, at that instant she saw him throw up a hand—then plunge downward.