Scarcely had he felt the grate of sand when with a powerful shove
he sent his canoe back, and almost in the same instant Pierre's
rifle leveled menacingly shoreward. Drawn up high and dry on the
sand-bar were the two canoes.
For a space Philip expected that his appearance would be the
signal for some movement ashore; but as he drifted slowly away,
his rifle still leveled, he was filled more and more with the
belief that he had not been discovered. He allowed himself to
drift until he knew that he was hidden in the shadows, and then
quietly worked himself in to shore. Making no sound, he pulled
himself up the bank and crept among the trees toward the bar.
There was no one guarding the canoes. He heard no sound of voice,
no crackling of brush or movement of reeds. For a full minute he
crouched and listened. Then he crept nearer and found where both
reeds and brush were trampled down into a path that led away from
the river.
His heart gave a bound of joy, and he darted along the path,
holding his rifle ready for instant use. The trail wound through
the tall grass of a dry swamp meadow and, two hundred yards beyond
the river, plunged into a forest. He had barely entered this when
he saw the glow of a fire.
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