Martin, his paddle crossed on the thwarts in front, dipped a cup of the cool, sweet water and drank. Levi wiped the sweat from his face, and Hersey also quenched his thirst. The day was hot. They had paddled ten miles. There was no hurry, and as pipes were drawn forth and filled, conversation began. But just at this moment Levi's ears, ever alert, caught the faint sound of a paddle striking a canoe gunwale. Not as usual, in an intermittent fashion, as would be the case with a skilled canoeist, but a steady, rhythmic thud. "Hist," he said, and silence fell upon the group. In the wilderness all sounds are noticed and noted, by night especially, because then they may mean a bear crawling softly through the undergrowth, or a wildcat, yellow-eyed and vicious, creeping near. But by day as well they are always heeded, and the crackle of a twig, or the sound of a deer's foot striking a stone, or any slight noise, becomes of keen interest. And now, from far ahead, came the steady tap, tap, tap. It soon increased, and then it assured those waiting, listening men that some canoe was being urged down-stream. Without a word they glanced at one another, and then, as if an intuition came to both at the same time, Martin and Hersey reached for their rifles. On and on came the steady thump, thump. Just ahead the stream narrowed and curved out of sight. A few foam flecks from an unseen rill above floated down. The white sandy bottom showed in the clear water. And then, as those stern-faced, watching, listening men, rifles in hand, almost side by side, waited there, out from behind this bend shot a canoe. "My God, it's Pete Bolduc! Look out!" almost yelled Levi, and "Halt! Surrender!" from Hersey, as two rifles were levelled at the oncomer. Then one instant's sight of a red and scarred face, a quick reach for a rifle, a splash of water, an overturned canoe, and with a curse the astonished half-breed dived into the undergrowth. Two rifles spoke almost at the same instant from the waiting canoes, one answered from out the thicket. A thrashing, struggling something in the filled canoe next caught all eyes, and Levi, leaping into the waist-deep stream, grasped and lifted a dripping form. It was Chip! A brief yet bloodless tragedy, all over in less time than the telling; yet a lifetime of horror had been endured by that waif, for as Levi bore her to the bank, cut the thongs that bound her, and freed her mouth from a pad of deerskin, she grasped his hand and kissed it. And then came another surprise; for down a sloping, thick-grown hillside, something was heard thrashing, and soon Old Tomah, his clothing in shreds, his face bleeding, appeared to view. Calculating to a nicety where he could best intercept and head off the escaping half-breed, he had crossed four miles of pathless undergrowth in less than an hour, and reached the stream at the nearest point after it left the lake.