In another minute the canoes of the expedition began to cleave the waters, headed upstream.
The Indians also tumbled into their boats, nor were they longer satisfied to hang back one or more hundred yards as formerly—that elixir had quite captured their hearts, and they scrambled to keep in close proximity to the magical "floating coffin," as they denominated the cedar canoe, as if they could scent future feasts along the line of that which they had just enjoyed.
Cuthbert laughed over the situation more than a few times, and declared that he need fear no evil from the copper-faced denizens of the timber country so long as a shot remained in their locker—a grain of Java in their caddy.
But the Indians after a while struck a faster gait and vanished around a bend above, nor did they see them again for several days, when they arrived at the trading post.
They paddled leisurely, with Owen leading the way as before, for being familiar with the region he would know how to time matters so that they should reach the vicinity of the post.
As the afternoon waned Cuthbert could see that the other was struggling with some strong emotion, and he understood that it must be connected with the return trip he was making to the post, which he had evidently abandoned for good at the time of his hasty run down the river.
He fancied that Owen might take occasion to give them some inkling as to how matters stood with him here, for he had promised to reveal the secret of his lonely life at the first favorable opportunity; but somehow he did not appear to be in the humor just then, being wrapped up in his own gloomy reflections.
'Well, it could not long be delayed now, and Cuthbert, being built along the lines of a patient and philosophical lad, felt that he could wait.