ly one. His skin was dark like that of an Italian, or a
white man with a quarter or eighth strain of Indian blood in his veins.
Stonor was astonished by this fact; nothing that he had heard had
suggested that Imbrie was not as white as himself. This put a new look
on affairs. For an instant Stonor doubted. But the man's hand was
well-formed and well-kept; and in what remained of his clothes one could
still see the good materials and the neatness. In fact, it could be none
other than Imbrie.

He was roused from his contemplation of the gruesome object by a sharp
exclamation from Mary. Looking up, he saw Clare a quarter of a mile
away, hastening to them along the beach. His heart sank.

"Go to her," he said quickly. "Keep her from coming here."

Mary hastened away. Stonor followed more slowly, disguising his soreness
as best he could. For him it was cruel going over the stones--yet all
the way he was oddly conscious of the beauty of the wild cascade,
sweeping down between its green shores.

As he had feared, Clare refused to be halted by Mary. Thrusting the
Indian woman aside, she came on to Stonor.

"What's the matter?" she cried stormily. "Why did you both leave me? Why
does she try to stop me?--Why! you're all wet! Where's your tunic, your
boots? You're in pain!"

"Come to the house," he said. "I'll tell you."

She would not be put off. "What has happened? I insist on knowing now!
What is there down there I mustn't see?"

"Be guided by me," he pleaded. "Come away, and I'll tell you
everything."

"I _will_ see!" she cried. "Do you wish to put me out of my mind with
suspense?"

He saw that it was perhaps kinder not to oppose her. "I have found a
body in the river," he said. "Do not look at it. Let me tell you."

She broke away from him. "I must know the worst," she muttered.

He let her go. She ran on down the beach, and he hobbled after. She
stopped beside the body, and looked down with wide, wild eyes. One
dreadful low cry escaped her.

"Ernest!"

She collapsed. Stonor caught her sagging body. Her head fell limply back
over his arm.

CHAPTER X

THE START HOME

Stonor, refusing aid from Mary, painfully carried his burden all the way
back to the shack. He laid her on the bed. There was no sign of
returning animation. Mary loosened her clothing, chafed her hands, and
did what other offices her experience suggested. After what seemed like
an age to the watchers, she stirred and sighed. Stonor