“’Tain’t so awful fur from yere, sah,” Sam called to me.

“What, the place where we are to land?”

“Yas, sah.  It’s de mouth ob a little crick, whut yer nebber see till yer right plum at it.  Bettah keep yer eyes open ’long dat shore, sah.”

The girl, alertly bent forward, was first among us to detect the concealed opening, which was almost completely screened by the over-arching trees, her voice ringing excitedly, as she pointed it out.  Sam was quick to respond, and, almost before I had definitely established the spot, the bow of the boat swerved and we shot in through the leafy screen, the low-hung branches sweeping against our faces and scraping along the sides.  It was an eery spot, into which the faint daylight scarcely penetrated, but, nevertheless, revealed itself a secure and convenient harbor.  While the stream was not more than twelve feet in width and the water almost motionless, the banks were high and precipitous and the depth amply sufficient.  The dim light, only occasionally finding entrance through the trees, barely enabled us to see for a short distance ahead.  It looked a veritable cave, and, indeed, all I remember noting in my first hasty glance through the shadows, was the outline of a small boat, moored to a fallen tree.  Sam must have perceived this at the same instant, for he ran our craft alongside the half-submerged log and stopped his engine.  I scrambled over, found precarious footing on the wet bank, and made fast.

“So this is the place?” I questioned incredulously, staring about at the dark, silent forest; which still remained in the deep night shade.  “Why, there’s nothing here.”

“No, sah; dar certenly don’t ’pear fer ter be much,” and the negro crept out of the cockpit and joined me, “‘ceptin’ dat boat.  Dar ain’t no boat ‘round yere, les’ folks hes bin a ridin’ in it, Ah reckon.  Dis sure am de spot, all right—­an’ dar’s got ter be a trail ’round yere sumwhar.”

Rene remained motionless, her eyes searching the shadows, as though half frightened at finding herself in such dismal surroundings.  The girl’s face appeared white and drawn in that twilight.  Sam advanced cautiously from off the log to the shore, and began to anxiously scan the ground, beating back and forth through the underbrush.  After watching him a moment my gaze settled on the strange boat, and I crept along the log curious to examine it more closely.  It had the appearance of being newly built, the paint unscratched, and exhibiting few marks of usage.  A single pair of oars lay crossed in the bottom and beside these was an old coat and some ordinary fishing tackle—­but nothing to arouse any interest.  Without doubt it belonged to Amos Shrunk, and had been left here after the return from some excursion either up or down the river.  I was still staring at these things, and speculating about them, when the negro called out from a distance that he had found the path.  Rene answered his hail, standing up in the boat, and I hastened back to help her ashore.