to be not so near as he had expected. He put a mile behind him,
and another mile, and there was still no sign of it. Evidently the woman
had not made her way through the bush, as he had supposed, but had been
dropped off to wait for him. After giving him his quietus she had no
doubt intended to take his canoe and join her party. Well, it was
another lovely morning, and Stonor was thankful her plan had miscarried.

The river took a twist to the southward. The sun rose and shot his beams
horizontally through the tree-trunks, lighting up the underbrush with a
strange golden splendour. It was lovely and slightly unreal, like
stage-lighting. The surface of the river itself seemed to be dusted with
light. Far overhead against the blue, so tender and so far away at this
latitude, eagles circled and joyously screamed, each one as if he had an
intermittent alarm in his throat.

In the bow the woman lay glaring at him venomously. Stonor could not
help but think: "What a gorgeous old world to be fouled with murder and
hatred!"

At last, as he crept around an overhanging clump of willows, he saw what
he was in search of, and his heart gave a great leap. Arresting his
paddle, he clung to the branches and peered through, debating what to
do. They were still far off and he had not been perceived. With
straining eyes he watched the three tiny figures that meant so much to
him. Unfortunately there was no chance of taking Imbrie by surprise, for
he had had the wit to choose a camping-place that commanded a view
down-stream for half a mile. Stonor considered landing, and attempting
to take them from the rear, but even as he looked he saw Imbrie loading
the dug-out. They would be gone long before he could make his way round
through the bush. There was nothing to do but make a dash for it.

They saw him as soon as he rounded the bend. There was a strange
dramatic quality in the little beings running this way and that on the
beach. Stonor, straining every nerve to reach them, was nevertheless
obliged to be the witness of a drama in which he was powerless to
intervene. He saw Imbrie throw what remained of his baggage into the
dug-out. He saw the two petticoated figures start running up the beach
towards him, Stonor. Imbrie started after them. The larger of the two
figures dropped back and grappled with the man, evidently to give the
other a chance to escape. But Imbrie succeeded in flinging her off, and,
after a short chase, seized the ot