The day, like the two or three preceding it, had been hot and bright, and now that evening was drawing on, the still air was heavy with the smell of the cedars in a neighboring hollow. A high ridge stood out black against a vivid green glow, and from beyond it there rose a faint, hoarse murmur. Nasmyth welcomed it gladly as announcing the end of the march. "The rest of the party can hardly be down until to-morrow; there's a couple of portages," he said. "It looks as if we'll have to go without our supper." "I don't want to see them before morning," Lisle returned grimly. They pushed on, the light growing dimmer as they went, until at length the moon rose from behind the ridge; and when they had skirted the ridge they saw the river glimmer beneath them in a flood of silvery radiance. It filled the gorge with its deep murmur, for the hot sunshine for three days had melted the snow, which had poured down to swell the flood by every gully. Not far below the neck the broken surface was flecked with white where the river swept angrily over a sharper slope of its bed, and a black boulder or two stood out in the midst of the rushing foam. Up-stream of this there was a strip of shingle which Nasmyth recognized as the one where the cache had been made; he supposed that Lisle had struck the spot by heading for the narrow rift of the neck, which was conspicuous for some distance from both sides. From end to end the sweep of pebbles was clearly distinct; but there was no dark figure moving about it, and Nasmyth wondered if they had come too late. They had marched fast, as his aching muscles testified, but they had been delayed at the canon and Gladwyne had had a long start. If he had arrived and had visited the cache, their efforts might prove to have been thrown away. There must be no shadow of doubt when Lisle told his startling story. They descended with caution, moving through shadow, for the ridge above them cut off the moonlight, though it was far from dark, and they were near the bottom when Crestwick dislodged a bank of stones which went rattling and crashing down to the beach. A moment later a black form sprang out from among the rocks below and ran hurriedly along the shingle. This surprised Nasmyth because he could not doubt that the man was Gladwyne and he failed to understand his object in making what would probably be a futile attempt to avoid them. Lisle was some distance in front, and his voice rang out sharply: "Head him off from the canoe!" Nasmyth broke into a stumbling run--it was now obvious that Gladwyne meant to cross the river, and perhaps destroy the second cache.