"I met Hersey as we were coming in," he said, "and he says that neither McGuire nor the half-breed has been seen or heard of since early last fall. Hersey came in early this spring with one of his deputies; they visited a half-dozen lumber camps, called twice at Tim's Place, and even went over to Pete's cabin on the Fox Hole, but nowhere could they learn anything of these two men. More than that, no canoe was found at Pete's hut, and there was no sign of occupation at all this past winter. Nothing could be learned from Tim, either, although not much was expected from that source. It is all a most mysterious disappearance, and the last that we can learn of Pete was his arrival and departure from Tim's Place after we rescued Chip." "I think both on 'em has concluded this section was gittin' too warm for 'em," remarked Levi, "an' they've lit out." "It's good riddance if they have," answered Old Cy, "an' I'm sartin none on us'll ever set eyes on 'em agin." And Old Cy spoke the truth, for none of this party ever did. In fact, no human being, except himself and Martin, ever learned the secret that this mountain-hid lake could tell. But another matter now began to interest Old Cy--how Ray and Chip stood in their mutual feelings. That all was not as he wished, Old Cy soon guessed from Ray's face and actions, and he was not long in verifying it. "Wal, how'd ye find the gal?" he said to Ray when the chance came. "Was she glad to see ye?" "Why, yes," answered Ray, looking away, "she appeared to be. I wasn't in Greenvale but two weeks, you know." "Saw her 'most every evenin' durin' that time, I s'pose?" "No, not every one," returned Ray, vaguely; "her school hadn't closed when I got home, and she studied nights, you see." Old Cy watched Ray's face for a moment. "I ain't pryin' into yer love matters," he said at last, "but as I'm on your side, I'd sorter like to know how it's progressin'. Wa'n't thar nothin' said 'tween ye--no sort o' promise, 'fore ye come 'way?" "No, nothing of that sort," answered Ray, looking confused, "though we parted good friends, and she sent her love to you. I'm afraid Chip don't quite like Greenvale." Old Cy made no answer, though a smothered "hum, ha" escaped him at the disclosure of what he feared. "I wish ye'd sorter clinched matters 'fore ye left," he said, after a pause; "that is, if ye're callatin' to be here 'nother winter. It's 'most too long to keep a gal guessin'; 'sides, 'tain't right." Ray, however, made no defence, in fact, seemed guilty and confused, so Old Cy said no more. A few days later he made a proposal that astonished Martin. "I've been here now 'bout two years," he said, "an' I'm gittin' sorter oneasy. I callate ye kin spare me a couple o' weeks." No intimation of his real errand escaped him, and so adroitly had he laid his plans and timed his movements, that when his canoe was packed and he bade them good-bye, no one suspected how valuable a cargo it carried.