“Can you--hear ’em?” Teddy gasped, digging his paddle in deeper. “Nope!” Pop answered laconically. He, alone, seemed to accept the situation calmly, staring straight ahead as he sat rigidly in the bottom of the canoe. Perhaps he feared the chase would be futile, or perhaps he realized that their best chance of success lay in going about the affair in a businesslike manner. His rifle, loaded, lay across his knees. As the canoe shot downstream, Teddy, in the front, strained his ears for some indication of the boat they were following. But it seemed to have been swallowed up by the river. Surely they were going much faster than the other craft and should have caught them by this time. Unless--and Teddy frowned at the thought--unless they knew they were being pursued and made for the shore, pulling their lighter boat up out of sight. Now the river seemed to take their canoe in a powerful grip and shake it. Roy paddled desperately, and succeeded in steadying it. “Close!” he gasped. “Thought we were over then!” “If I had my Fishmobile--” Bug Eye muttered, then closed his mouth tightly. The shore seemed far away at this moment. “Better head in,” Pop suggested quietly. “Afraid they got away, boys. I don’t like the sound of this river.” “Hate to give up,” Roy responded, but even he was beginning to see the wisdom of Pop’s advice. Somehow, the roar of the stream seemed to have increased in volume. Whether it was because the banks were closer together here, thus adding to the force of the current, the boys could not tell. At all events, both Teddy and Roy decided that they had best attempt to land. “Take the left side for a minute,” Roy called. The sweat was running off the paddlers in small rivulets and their breaths were coming in short gasps. “We’ll have to--get together. With me, now! Ho--ho--ho--ho--” Slowly the craft turned her nose to the bank. The shoreline was barely distinguishable, and the boys had no means of estimating their speed. But they knew that they were going fast enough to sink, surely, if they hit anything. “Make it?” Bug Eye asked anxiously. He was holding on to the sides of the boat with both hands, his rifle, forgotten now, lying in the bottom. Indeed, all thought of their quarry had vanished from the minds of both Teddy and Roy. All they knew was that they were out in the middle of a river which was trying its best to whirl them onward to destruction. Even Pop Burns was startled out of his complacency. He turned and looked sharply at Roy. “Mebby--mebby not,” he said enigmatically, and began to peel off his vest. “Yo’re gettin’ near, though. A little more, boys. I’d help if I could, but if I tried to shift we’d go over sure.” “Stick--to it,” Teddy panted. “Roy, you take the left--we’re gaining now--she’s swingin’ closer--”