ddered as he returned his revolver into his holster and braced his
limbs. It was an unpleasant task, but he knew that it must be done--to
save Pierre. He lifted the body clear of the rocks, and bending under
its weight carried it to the edge of the cliff. Far below sounded the
wash of the sea. He shoved his burden over the edge, and listened.
After a moment there came a dull splash.

Then he hastened on, as Pierre had guided him.

X

Soon Philip slackened his pace, and looked anxiously ahead of him. From
where he stood the cliff sloped down to a white strip of beach that
reached out into the night as far as he could see, hemmed close in by
the black gloom of the forest. Half-way down the slope the moonlight
was cut by a dark streak, and he found this to be the second break. He
had no difficulty in descending. Its sides were smooth, as though worn
by water. At the bottom white, dry sand slipped under his feet. He made
his way between the walls, and darkness shut him in. The trail grew
rougher. Near the shore he stumbled blindly among huge rocks and piles
of crumbling slate, wondering why Jeanne and Pierre had come this way
when they might have taken a smoother road. Close to the stony beach,
where the light was a little better, he made out the canoe which Pierre
had drawn into the shadows.

Not until he had dragged it into the moonlight at the edge of the water
did he see that it was equipped as if for a long journey. Close to the
stern was a bulging pack, with a rifle strapped across it. Two or three
smaller caribou-skin bags lay in the center of the canoe. In the bow
was a thick nest of bearskin, and he knew that this was for Jeanne.

Cautiously Philip launched himself, and with silent sweeps of the
paddle that made scarcely the sound of a ripple in the water set out in
the direction of Churchill. Jeanne's captors had a considerable start
of him, but he felt confident of his ability to overtake them shortly
if Pierre had spoken with truth when he said that they would head for
the Churchill River. He had observed the caution with which Pierre's
assailants had approached the cliff, and he was sure that they would
double that caution in their return, especially as their attack had
been interrupted at the last moment. For this reason he paddled without
great haste, keeping well within the concealment of the precipitous
shore, with his ears and eyes keenly alive to discover a sign of those
who were ahead of him