ainty, for the old fort
stands on a lake that finds an outlet into this river, though it is
rather a long way from here. We will keep straight on. No doubt we
shall strike either your uncle's camp or some search party presently."

As it happened the conclusion he reached was based on a miscalculation.
The only waterway to old Fort Winagog that he knew was from the main
river and up the stream that formed the outlet for the lake. But there
was another that was reached by a short portage through the woods from
the subsidiary stream from which he turned aside, a waterway which fed
the lake, and which cut off at least a hundred and twenty miles.
Knowing nothing of this shorter route he naturally concluded that Helen
Yardely's canoe had come down the main stream, and took the wrong
course in the perfect assurance that it was the right one.

So hugging the left bank they passed the junction of the rivers, and a
little further on crossed to the other side to seek shelter from a
rising wind, under the high bank. And less than an hour later the
canoe, carrying Gerald Ainley and his Indian, swept out of the
tributary stream into the broader current, and they drove downstream,
unconscious that every stroke of the paddle was taking them further
from the girl whom they sought.

CHAPTER VII

STRANDED

It was high noon when Hubert Stane directed the nose of the canoe
towards a landing-place in the lee of a sand-bar, on the upperside of
which was a pile of dry driftwood suitable for firing.

"We will take an hour's rest, Miss Yardely; and possibly whilst we are
waiting your friends may show up."

He lit a fire, prepared a wilderness meal of bacon and beans (the
latter already half-cooked) and biscuit and coffee, and as they
consumed it, he watched the river, a long stretch of which was visible.

"I thought we should have encountered your friends before now, Miss
Yardely," he remarked thoughtfully.

The girl smiled. "Are you anxious to get rid of me?" she asked.
"Believe me, I am enjoying myself amazingly, and if it were not for the
anxiety my uncle and the others will be feeling, I should not trouble
at all. This----" she waved a hand towards the canoe and the river--"is
so different from my uncle's specially conducted tour."

"Oh, I am not at all anxious to be rid of you," laughed Stane, "but I
cannot help wondering whether we have not taken the wrong turn. You
see, if we have, every yard takes us further from your