He followed, close up against the reeds, never trusting himself out of the shadows.  After a little he heard voices, and a second canoe appeared.  There was a short pause, and the two canoes continued side by side up the channel.  A quarter of an hour brought both the pursuers and the pursued into the main stream, which lay in black gloom between forest walls that cut out all light but the shimmer of the stars.

No longer could Philip see those ahead of him, but he guided himself by occasional voices and the dip of paddles.  At times, when the stream narrowed and the forest walls gave him deeper shelter, he drew perilously near with the hope of overhearing what was said, but he caught only an occasional word or two.  He listened in vain for Jeanne’s voice.  Once he heard her name spoken, and it was followed by a low laugh from some one in the canoe that had waited at the mouth of the Churchill.  A dozen times during the first half-hour after they entered the main stream Philip heard this same laughing voice.

After a time there fell a silence upon those ahead.  No sound rose above the steady dip of paddles, and the speed of the two canoes increased.  Suddenly, from far up the river, there came a voice, faintly at first, but growing steadily louder, singing one of the wild half-breed songs of the forest.  The voice broke the silence of those in the canoes.  They ceased paddling, and Philip stopped.  He heard low words, and after a few moments the paddling was resumed, and the canoes turned in toward the shore.  Philip followed their movement, dropping fifty yards farther down the stream, and thrust big birch-bark alongside a thick balsam that had fallen into the river.

The singing voice approached rapidly.  Five minutes later a long company canoe floated down out of the gloom.  It passed so near that Philip could see the picturesque figure in the stern paddling and singing.  In the bow kneeled an Indian working in stoic silence.  Between them, in the body of the canoe, sat two men whom he knew at a glance were white men.  The strangers and their craft slipped by with the quickness of a shadow.

Again Philip heard movements above him, and once more he took up the pursuit.  He wondered why Jeanne had not called for help when the company canoe passed.  If she was not hurt or unconscious, her captors had been forced to hold a handkerchief or a brutal hand over her mouth, perhaps at her throat!  His blood grew hot with rage at the thought.

For three-quarters of an hour longer the swift paddling up-stream continued without interruption.  Then the river widened into a small lake, and Philip was compelled to hold back until the two canoes, which he could see clearly now, had passed over the exposed area.