was heavily wooded. There was a dense tangle of undergrowth, and in order
to avoid this he skirted the shore, intending to make a complete circuit
before returning to the canoe.

His surprise was great when on reaching the further side he found that it
was not an island at all. A narrow strip of land connected it with the
mainland beyond. It was not over a hundred feet in width, but he noticed
that there was a very distinct path that had been beaten through the
undergrowth. The discovery for a moment startled him. Then he realized
that the woods were, of course, full of all sorts of harmless animals,
who had to come down to the water to drink. This would explain the beaten
path, and in some measure it reassured him.

Still his gait was quicker as he sped along, intent on regaining the
canoe. It would have perhaps been just as well if he had put his rifle in
when he started. He listened attentively now as he hurried on, but not a
sound broke the stillness of the woods.

And now his pulses began to drum with that subtle sixth sense of his that
warned of danger. Again and again in his adventurous career he had felt
it, and it had never misled him. It was something like the second sight
of the Highlander. His nature was so highly organized that like a
sensitive camera it registered impressions that others overlooked. Now
some "coming event" was casting "its shadow before," and the mysterious
monitor warned him to be on his guard.

It was with a feeling of intense relief that he came again in sight of
the canoe and saw that it was undisturbed. He looked across and saw his
friends waving at him. He waved back and stooped to unfasten the canoe.