Once here, he went on to the edge of the lake, and scrambled through the bushes to a vantage point. And here his mental question was answered instantly.
A scant quarter mile away was a canoe bearing a single paddler—evidently Cowley. The canoe was heading for the creek entrance, and was traveling fast. A mile or more behind it was another canoe bearing four men, and for a moment Denis eyed them, wondering why they did not catch up with Cowley. Then he laughed shortly.
“Overloaded, by Jasper! All four of ’em in her, and she must be right down to the water, so they don’t dare put on speed. This simplifies things for me, then.”
So, apparently, it did, since Cowley was coming squarely into the trap. At the moment it did not occur to Denis that Ballard’s arrival might bring him a new problem, and the most difficult one which he had yet faced.
Returning to the log landing, he picked up his canoe and carried it a dozen yards away, placing it among the bushes, where the hurrying Cowley would never notice it. This done, he made his way back to the shack.
With his Ross rifle under his arm, he set the other weapons out of reach in a corner. A glitter on the floor caught his eye, and he stooped to pick up the handcuffs which he had intended to place on Cowley and had worn himself by the irony of circumstance. He slipped them into his pocket and opened the door of the prison chamber.
Smoking Duck was sitting on the floor, in sour apathy, his wrists as Denis had left them. Denis smiled cheerfully at him.
“I suppose you heard the sound of wreckage, my friend? Yes, your little game is up for good and all. By the way, where’s the key of those handcuffs? I want to use them on your precious partner pretty quick.”
Smoking Duck glared up at him, and finally grunted out that the key was lost.
“So much the worse for Cowley, then—he’ll have to reach headquarters before getting released from bondage. I see you still have some coffee on the fire—want a hot cup that’ll cheer but not inebriate?”