Old Cy’s suspicions were correct. It was neither bear, deer, nor wildcat that Ray saw skulking along the ridge, but the half-breed.

Believing Chip’s father had taken her out of the wilderness, or more likely up-stream to find a place with these campers, he had come here to seek her. To find her here, as he of course did, only convinced him that his suspicions were true and that her father had thus meant to rob him.

Two determined impulses now followed this discovery: first, to make the girl he had bought a prisoner, carry her into the woods, and then, when the chance came, revenge himself on McGuire. No sense of law, or decency even, entered his calculation. He was beyond such scruples, and what he wanted was his only law.

The fear of rifles, which he knew were plenty enough at this camp, was the only factor to be considered. For days he watched the camp from across the lake, hoping that the girl he saw canoeing with a boy so often might come near enough for him to make a capture. Many times, when darkness served, he paddled close to where the cabin stood, and once landed and watched it for hours.

Growing bolder, as the days wore on, he hid his canoe below the outlet of the lake and taking advantage of this outcropping slate ledge with its many fissures, secreted himself and watched.

But some shelter, at least to cook and eat in, he must have, and this he found in a distant crevasse of this same ledge, and from this he sneaked along back of it until he could hide and watch the camp below. From this vantage-point, he saw that the girl no longer went out upon the lake, but remained near the cabin; then later, he noticed the two men leave the lake one morning. This encouraged him, and now he grew still bolder, even descending the ridge and watching those remaining at the cabin, from a dense thicket.

From this new post he saw that but one man seemed on guard, and almost was he tempted to shoot him from ambush and make a dash to capture his victim. Cautious and cunning, he still waited a chance involving less risk.

And now he saw that certain duties were performed by these people; that one man and the boy always started the morning fire; that the girl invariably went to the landing alone for water, at about the same time. Here for the moment she was out of sight from either cabin, and now in this act of hers, he saw his opportunity to land from his canoe near this spot before daylight, and hide in the bushes fringing the shore here and below the bank, watch his chance and seize and gag her before an outcry could be made. To tie her hands and feet and to push the other canoe out into the lake, thus avoiding pursuit until they could get a good start, was an easy matter.

It was risky, of course. She might hear or see him in time to give one scream. The old man who had said foolish things to him, and now seemed to be on guard, would surely send bullets after him as he sped away; but once out of the lake, he would be safe. It was a dangerous act; yet the other two men might return any day, and with this in prospect, this wily half-breed now resolved to act.

Old Cy was up early that fatal morning. Somehow a sense of impending danger haunted him, and calling Ray, he unlocked the cabin door and began starting the morning fire. He wanted to get breakfast out of the way as speedily as possible, and then visit this ridge, feeling almost sure that he would find where this half-breed had been watching them.

When Ray came out, and before the hermit or Chip appeared, Old Cy hurried over to the ice-house, and now Chip came forth as usual, and without a word to any one, she took the two pails and started for the landing. It was, perhaps, ten rods to this, down a narrow path winding through the scrub spruce. The morning was fair, the lake without a ripple.

Above the ridge, and peeping through its topping of stunted fir, came the first glance of the sun, and Chip was happy.

Old Tomah, her one and only friend for many years, was here. A something Ray had whispered the night before, now returned like a sweet note of music vibrating in her heart, and as if to add their cheer, the birds were piping all about.

For weeks the cheerful words of one of Ray’s songs had haunted her with its catchy rhythm:–

They now rose to her lips, as she neared the lake. Here she halted, filled a pail, and set it on the log landing.

From behind a low spruce one evil, sinister eye watched her.

And now Chip, still humming this ditty, glanced up at the rising sun and out over the lake.

A crouching form with hideous face now emerged from behind the bush; step by step, this human panther advanced. A slow, cautious, catlike movement, without sound, as each moccasined foot touched the sand. Nearer and nearer that unconscious girl it crept! Now twenty feet away, now ten, now five!

And now came a swift rush, two fierce hands enclosed the girl’s face and drew her backward on to the sand.

Ray and the hermit were beside the fire, and the Indian just emerging from the hut where he had slept, when Old Cy returned from the ice-house.

“Where’s Chip?” he questioned.

“Gone after water,” answered Ray. And the two glanced down the path.

One, two, five minutes elapsed, and then a sudden suspicion of something wrong came to Old Cy, and, followed by Ray, he hurried to the landing.

One pail of water stood on the float, both their canoes were adrift on the lake, and as Old Cy looked out, there, heading for the outlet, was a canoe!One swift glance and, “My God, he’s got Chip!” told the story, and with face fierce in anger, he darted back, grasped his rifle, and returned.

The canoe, its paddler bending low as he forced it into almost leaps, was scarce two lengths from the outlet.

Old Cy raised his rifle, then lowered it.

Chip was in that canoe!

His avenging shot was stayed.

And now Old Tomah leaped down the path, rifle in hand.

One look at the vanishing canoe, and his own, floating out upon the lake, told him the tale, and without a word he turned and, plunging into the undergrowth, leaping like a deer over rock and chasm, vanished at the top of the ridge.