One of the men was immediately sent back to secure such a boat, and hasten down the stream, so that it might be available should the boys seek to pass over to the opposite shore. Half an hour later the little company stood on the bank, waiting for the canoe to reach them, having signalled to the paddler as agreed upon.
Plain marks could be seen where a canoe had been carried from the bushes and launched, afterward being entered by the red men. There was something more awaiting them here on the bank of the beautiful river. A stick held a scrap of paper, on which were a few lines of crabbed writing. It was a message from Pat O'Mara; and, though the Irish trapper talked rather uncouthly, he could at least frame his thoughts in fairly decent English.
This then was what he had written:
"Indians crossed river here in canoe. Will follow, and, when find where landed, leave piece of red cloth in stick. Look for it close to water's edge."
That was all, but it signified much to the eager boys, who were only waiting for the coming of the dugout to themselves push across the river. Trust to their keen eyes to discover that tiny bit of flaming cloth!
"But where could he have found a boat?" asked Sandy, looking surprised, as this puzzle presented itself before him.
Bob shook his head. He knew the daring nature of O'Mara too well to believe that the other would halt in his pursuit simply because he wanted a canoe.
"A log upon which he could fasten his gun and powder-horn would be enough for him," he declared, positively. "This he would push ahead as he battled with the current of the river. Landing somewhere below, he could easily hasten up the shore, looking for signs. And long before now, Sandy, he is, let us hope, following on the heels of those treacherous wolves."
"Here is the canoe, Bob," said Sandy, drawing a long breath of relief; for he had fretted at the delay, counting the minutes while the settler paddled down to where they stood waiting.