But he laboured indefatigably. He was running with the stream, his muscles at ease, but with mind and eye alert and uneasy. He knew the dangers of this dreary channel. It was deep enough. Oh, yes. He knew that. At times it was monstrously deep. But its sodden, reed-grown banks yielded no footing for landing; there were mud banks dotted throughout its course; and in its open channels masses of submerged weed flourished abundantly. So his vigilance was unceasing, and he drove a course whose constant zig-zag suggested incompetence.
But there was no incompetence in Cy Liskard on the water. He travelled swiftly and without doubt or hesitation. For he meant to reach those distant coast hills with the last of the tide, driven hard by that which lay back of his mind.
His search for his quarry about the oil camp in the hills had been fruitless. He had prosecuted it with infinite determination. He had lain cached when he encountered McLagan’s river men. He had well and truly covered his tracks, when at night he had reconnoitred the camp itself. Then, when he had ascertained beyond all possibility of doubt that the man he sought was not at the camp, he had passed on all undetected, unsuspected. Now he was on the last stages of his journey to the coast. The coast and that crazy, high-perched shanty overlooking the bay.
Cy Liskard betrayed no outward sign. He looked to belong to the long trail of the wilderness whose peace and calm his soulless eyes expressed so well. His outfit looked to be the outfit of those who live by trap and gun, and the protruding muzzle of a modern rifle over the curved bows of his craft increased the illusion. But his purpose was no less for these things. Perhaps, even, it was the contrary.
The miles passed rapidly behind him. They drifted away on a winding course that flashed and gleamed in the brilliant summer daylight. But for all his speed, the outlook seemed to remain the same, the distant hills to come no nearer.
But they were approaching very rapidly. And, as the late afternoon ripened the sparkle of earlier day, at last they rose abruptly till their height seemed to overwhelm the monotonous level of the muskeg.
Now the watchful eyes became less watchful. The need was less. The level, sodden banks had given place to sharp-cut, solid granite, and the widened stream had slackened and given place to deep, clear water free of all hidden traps. A sense of ease and safety permitted the man’s attention to wander to that which lay ahead and about him.