“On dat,” and the Indian laid his hand upon a sharp-pointed prong which jutted out from the great root of a fallen tree.  “White woman carried off, eh?”

“It seems like it, Pete.  Her dress must have caught on that snag.  Have you found anything else?”

“A-ha-ha.  Injun track, see,” and he pointed to the ground just in front of him.

Dane stooped and without much difficulty he was able to discern the imprint of a moccasined-foot where it had pressed a small mound of sand.  He straightened himself up and looked around.

“Any more such tracks, Pete?”

“A-ha-ha, down on shore.  Canoe come dere.  Injun carry off white woman, eh?”

“There is no doubt about it.  And we’ve got to find her.  Are you ready to help me?”

“A-ha-ha, Pete ready.  Pete get canoe, eh?”

“All right, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

Half an hour later Pete’s canoe, the old reliable, which the rangers had brought back to the settlement, was again headed up river.  Dane sat astern and drove his paddle into the water with the force of a Titan.  He had been greatly stirred at times in the past, but never such as now.  The blood surged madly through his veins, and the muscles of his bared arms stood out like whips of steel.  He thought of the cowardly attack upon the helpless girl, the one he loved better than life.  Where was she now?  Perhaps already she had become the victim of Seth Lupin.  The idea was horrible, and his paddle bent as the glittering blade carved the water.  But the base Lupin should not escape.  He would track him, if necessary, to the farthest bounds.  He would find him, and when he had found him . . .

The sun of the now shortened day dipped below the far-off western horizon.  A chilly breeze drifted up with the tide.  Gradually the trees along the shore became indistinct.  The stars tumbled out one by one.  Silence reigned on water and land.  But still the canoe sped noiselessly onward.  Not once had Dane spoken to the Indian; his mind was too much occupied with other things.  The picture of a white head bowed with grief as he had last seen it at the settlement, rose before him.  What agony of soul was that silent man now undergoing.  He emitted a slight groan, which caused Pete to glance quickly around.

“Dane seek, eh?” he queried.

“Not sick, Pete; only mad.  I’m in hell.”

“A-ha-ha, me know.  Bad, eh?”

Dane’s only reply was a more vigorous stroke than ever, which caused the canoe to quiver as it leaped forward.  He was too much excited as yet to form any definite line of action.  He thought only of the Indian encampments along the river and the various tributaries.  Surely at one of these he would find out something which would guide him in his search.  There was no time to be lost.  Winter was not far away, and the river would soon be frozen from bank to bank.  Already the wild geese had gone South in great wedge-like battalions, and any day the wild nor’easter might sweep down, and with the blast of its cruel breath strike rivers, lakes, and babbling brooks into a numbing silence.