Lieutenant, had a somewhat different effect upon the Frenchman, for
certain facts had been impressed upon his subconsciousness which did
not entirely gibe with the gambler's remarks, and yet they were too
dimly engraved to afford foundation for a definite theory. What he
did know was this, that he doubted. Why? Because certain scraps of a
disjointed conversation recurred to him, a few words which he had
overheard in Stark's saloon, something about a Peterborough canoe
and a woman. He knew every skiff that lay along the waterfront, and
of a sudden he decided to see if this one was where it had been at
dusk; for there were but two modes of egress from Flambeau, and
there was but one canoe of this type. If Necia had gone up-river on
the freighter, pursuit was hopeless, for no boatman could make
headway against the current; but if, on the other hand, that cedar
craft was gone--He ran out of Stark's house and down to the river-
bank, then leaped to the shingle beneath. It was just one chance,
and if he was wrong, no matter; the others would leave on the next
up-river steamer; whereas, if his suspicion proved a certainty, if
Stark had lied to throw them off the track, and Runnion had taken
her down-stream--well, Poleon wished no one to hinder him, for he
would travel light.

The boat WAS gone! He searched the line backward, but it was not
there, and his excitement grew now, likewise his haste. Still on the
run, he stumbled up to the trading-post and around to the rear,
where, bottom up, lay his own craft, the one he guarded jealously, a
birch canoe, frail and treacherous for any but a man schooled in the
ways of swift water and Indian tricks. He was very glad now that he
had not told the others of his suspicions; they might have claimed
the right to go, and of that he would not be cheated. He swung the
shell over his shoulders, then hurried to the bank and down the