heed to the call.

"Come, youngster," said the guide, getting on his feet and picking up
his rifle. "We'd best foller thet critter. He said he hed a chance, an'
thet wuz whut we wuz arter."

Frank thanked the campers for their hospitality, and then hastened after
Old Rocks, who was striding away after the Hermit, who had already
vanished from view.

"Whatever's got inter ther man?" growled the guide. "He seems ter hev
clean fergot we're on earth."

For at least a mile Old Rocks followed on the trail of the Hermit, and
it finally ended at the shore of the lake, where it was seen that the
man had taken a canoe.

And far out on the lake he was paddling swiftly away.

Putting his hands to his mouth, the guide sent a call across the water:

"Oh, Hermit!"

The man paddled on without looking back. Rocks repeated the cry several
times, but without apparent effect, and then gave up in disgust.

"I'll allow this is onery!" he growled, as he sat down and lighted his
pipe once more. "Dog my cats ef it ain't!"

Frank was disheartened.

"Poor little Fay!" he murmured, sadly. "What will become of her?"

"We'll find her," declared Old Rocks, grimly. "We'll find her ef we hev
ter tramp clean round this yar lake ter strike ther trail o' them p'izen
Blackfeet!"

"Do you think we can ever find their trail?"

"Wa-al, I'll allow! Ain't we got ter find 'em? Ain't they got ter come
ter shore somewhar? You bet yer boots! Old Rocks is on ther warpath, an'
ther measly varmints want ter look out!"

The guide seemed very much in earnest, which gave Frank fresh hope. The
boy was ready to spend any length of time in the search for the missing
child.

Having smoked and meditated a short time, Old Rocks arose.

"Come," he said, and he struck out once more.

Along the shore they went, the eyes of the guide always searching for
the trail. Sometimes they were forced back from the water by steep
bluffs and precipices, but the guide missed no places where the Indians
could have landed.

It was about midway in the forenoon that the trail was struck. The
canoes were found craftily concealed, and in the soft ground near the
lake were the imprints of tiny feet.

"Thar!" cried Old Rocks, looking at the marks; "thet shows we ain't on a
wild-goose chase. Now we don't hold up none whatever till we overtakes
ther p'izen skunks an' rescues ther gal. You hear me!"

[Illustration: "The grizzly folded Frank in his embrace, crushing the
lad