Once there he could look across the promontory of land, down into a little cove on the opposite side.  It was well sheltered, and already wrapped in gloomy shadows, yet his eyes detected the outline of a boat of some size drawn up on the sandy beach.  Beyond the dim certainty of what it was he could perceive nothing with which to identify the craft, and deeming it some fishing boat, gave its presence there no further heed.

Glancing back to assure himself that Natalie was still safe where he had left her, he picked his way swiftly forward through the thick fringe of forest trees, until he came to the western edge of the wood, and could view the country beyond in the last spectral glow of the dying day.  It was a wild, broken country thus revealed to his gaze, a land of ridges and ravines, rugged and picturesque, but exhibiting no evidence of roads, or inhabitants.  Its very roughness of outline, and its sterile soil, explained the barrenness and desolation—­a no-man’s land, impossible of cultivation, it remained neglected and unused.  At first he was sure of this, his heart sinking at the deserted landscape.  They must plunge blindly forward in the dark over that rough, trackless country, seeking some possible shelter beyond.  Weakened and exhausted as they both were the task seemed almost an impossible one.  Then his eyes caught a thin spiral of smoke rising from out a narrow valley almost directly beneath where he stood, the depths of which were totally concealed from sight.  As he stared at this, uncertain of its reality, a single spark of light winked out at him through the darkness.  There was certainly a habitation of some kind hidden away down there—­a fisherman’s hut likely—­but it would at least afford temporary shelter for the night; and there must be a road or path of some kind leading from it to the nearest village.  If he could only leave Natalie there in safe hands, in the security of a home, however humble, food would give him strength to push on alone.  The one thought in his mind now was to telegraph McAdams, so as to circumvent the plans of those rascals in Chicago.  This must be done, and it must be done at the earliest moment possible.  Perhaps the fisherman might possess a horse, or would carry the necessary message into town himself.  West turned and hastened back through the woods, clambering down the slope of the ridge in darkness to the spot where he had left the girl.  For the moment he could not distinguish her presence in the gloom, and, fearing he might have gone astray, called her name aloud.

“Yes,” she answered.  “I am here; to your right.  I am, standing up.  Have you discovered anything?”

“There is a house of some kind over yonder in a hollow just beyond the ridge—­more than likely a fisherman’s hut, as there is a boat of some kind beached in the cove the other side of this promontory.  We will have to stumble along through the dark.  Do you think you can make it?”

“Of course, I can,” and she placed her hand confidingly in his.  “I am all right now; really I am; I guess all I needed was to get my breath.  Do we go up here—­the way you came back?”