XX. Until Seventy Times Seven - Page 2

"Then listen to what I tell you. No one must know what you know now."

"But--but Miss Margaret and Dick--" gasped Ben.

"They don't know," interrupted the doctor, "and must not know. Will you promise me this, Ben?"

"By Jove, Barney! I don't--I don't think--"

"Do you hear me, Ben? Do you promise?"

"Yes, by the livin'--"

"Good-bye, Ben; I think I can depend on you for the sake of old days." The doctor's smile set Ben's head in a whirl.

"You bet, Bar--Doctor!" he cried.

"Good old boy, Ben. Good-bye, lad."

He stepped into the canoe and pushed her off into the eddy just above the falls by which the Big Horn plunged into the Goat.

"Bo' voyage, M'sieu le Docteur!" sang out Duprez. "You cache hup de preechere. He pass on de riviere las' night."

"What? Who?"

"De preechere, Boyle. He's pass on wid canoe las' night. He's camp on de Beeg Fall, s'pose."

Barney held his canoe steady for a moment. "Went up last night, did he?"

"Oui. Tom Martin on de Beeg Horn camp he's go ver' seeck. He send for M'sieu Boyle."

"Did he go up alone?"

"Oui. He's not want nobody. Non. He's good man on de canoe."

It was an awkward situation. There was a very good chance that he should fall in with his brother somewhere on the trip, and that, at all costs, he was determined to avoid. For a minute or more he sat holding his canoe, calculating time and distances. At length he came to a resolve. He must visit the camp on the Big Horn, and he trusted his own ingenuity to avoid the meeting he dreaded.

"All right, Duprez! bon jour."

"Bo' jou' an' bon voyage. Gare a vous on de Longue Rapide. You mak' de portage hon dat rapide, n'est ce pas?"

"No, sir. No portage for me, Duprez. I'll run her."

"Prenez garde, M'sieu le Docteur," answered Duprez, shrugging his shoulders. "Maudit! Dat's ver' fas' water!"

"Don't worry about me," cried the doctor. "Just watch me take this little riffle."

"Bien!" cried Duprez, as the doctor slipped his canoe into the eddy and, with a smooth, noiseless stroke, sent her up toward the point where the stream broke into a riffle at the head of the rapid which led to the falls below. It may be that the doctor was putting a little extra weight on his paddle or that he did not exercise that unsleeping vigilance which the successful handling of the canoe demands, but whatever the cause, when the swift water struck the canoe, in spite of all his strength and skill, he soon found himself almost in midstream and going down the rapids.

"Mon