tude; she had not
expected so great a sacrifice. The brave lip trembled.

Imbrie laughed. "Good!" he cried. "Redbreasts don't relish starving in
the bush any better than ordinary men!"

The breed woman, on the verge of an angry outburst, checked herself, and
merely shrugged again. She said quietly in her own tongue: "He thinks
he's going to escape."

"Sure he does!" answered Imbrie, "and I'm the man who will prevent him.
I'll keep the weapons in my own hands."

True to his word he collected all the weapons in the outfit; three guns,
the revolver and three knives. He gave the breed woman her own gun and
her ammunition-belt, which she strapped round her; he kept his gun, and
the other two fire-arms he disabled by removing parts of the mechanism,
which he put in his pocket. He stuck two knives in his belt, and gave
the woman the third, which she slipped into its customary resting-place
in the top of her moccasin. Imbrie ordered Stonor to get up and strike
Clare's tent.

"He must be fed," said Clare quickly.

"Sure, I don't mind feeding him as long as he's going to earn it," said
Imbrie.

Clare hastened to carry Stonor her untasted plate, but Imbrie
intercepted her. "No more whispering," he said, scowling. "Eat your own
breakfast. The woman will feed him."

In half an hour they were on their way back up the river. They allowed
Stonor to rest and recuperate in the dug-out until they came to the
first rapid. Later, the policeman bent to the tracking-line with a good
will. This was better luck than he had hoped for. His principal fear was
that he might not be able to dissemble sufficiently to keep their
suspicions lulled. He knew, of course, that if they should guess of what
he was thinking his life would not be worth a copper penny. His
intuition told him that even though he was a prisoner, Clare was safe
from Imbrie while he was present, and he had determined to submit
cheerfully to anything in order to keep alive. He only needed three or
four more days!

So, with a loop of the tracking-line over his shoulder, he plodded
through the ooze of the shore, and over the stones; waded out round
reefs, and plunged headlong through overhanging willows. Imbrie walked
behind him with his gun over his arm. Clare lay on the baggage in the
dug-out wistfully watching Stonor's back, and the breed woman steered.
In the more sluggish reaches of the river, the men went aboard and
paddled.

When they spelled in mid-morning Imbrie