THE CRIME AT BIG TREE PORTAGE
stand," said I. "Why did not the murderer sink Lyon's body in the water? It would have been well hidden there."
The young woodsman pointed to the river, which foamed in low rapids about dark heads of rock.
"He could n't trust her; the current's sharp, and would put the dead man ashore as like as not," he replied. "And if he'd landed to carry it down to his canoe, he'd have left tracks. No, he's done his work to rights from his point of view."
I saw the force of the argument, and nodded.
"And more'n that, there's few people," he went on, "travel up and down this river. Lyon might 'a' laid in that clearing till he was a skeleton, but for the chance of that lumber-jack happening along."
"Then which way do you think the murderer has fled?"
"Can't say," said he, "and, anyhow, he's maybe eighty miles away by this."
"Will you try and follow him?"
"No, not yet. I must find out something about him first. But, look here, mister, there's
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