round the rapids, and in the
North it is considered a good road, though the travellers' bones bore
testimony to the contrary for several succeeding days. Pake, with the
prospect of a substantial bonus before him, did not spare his horses;
but the grass-fed beasts had already lost their enthusiasm for the
journey, and they made but indifferent progress. They were presently
compelled to stop a good hour and a half to let them rest and feed.

Garth, though he strove to hide it, was now very anxious. They had laid
in only two weeks' provisions at the Landing; the trails seemed to be
narrowing both before and behind; and the North closing in. Moreover, he
suspected Nick Grylls was not the man to stoop to mere mischief-making;
and he wondered apprehensively what next move he contemplated. Looking
at his charming Natalie, he could conceive of a man stooping to any
villainy to possess her. However, he strove to keep her spirits up--and
his own--with the oft-expressed belief that the Bishop would not leave
Pierre Toma's until the next morning.

Six o'clock had passed before they turned into the rough little clearing
on the river bank. The horses were done up. They had passed no other
sign of habitation the whole way.

A bent old man with a snowy thatch came hobbling out of the cabin.

His look of surprise, and the quietness of the place, answered Garth's
question before he put it.

"Where is the Bishop?"

The old man spread out his hands. "Gone. Four hours," he said.

VIII

ON THE LITTLE RIVER

The next day found Garth and Natalie afloat on Musquasepi, headed alone
into the North. To be exact, only Natalie was afloat; she sat in the
stern of a tiny boat, keeping her off shore with a paddle devised
from the cover of a grub-box. Their outfit was piled amidships. Garth
harnessed to the end of a towing-line, plodded through the mud and over
the stones of the bank; climbing over fallen trees, and wading bodily
into the river, when necessary to drag his tow around a reef.

Indecision had attacked Garth the night before--his responsibility was
so great! But Natalie had said, pressing the soft curve out of her lips:

"_Any_ means to get ahead! If we have to crawl on hands and knees!"

"Any _safe_ means," Garth amended.

"Nick Grylls without doubt is counting on our being held up or driven
back," she said. "I have an idea he is not far behind us."

It was Garth's own idea.

"So we _must_ keep ahead!"

"We must