Stonor, looking around, said: "I suppose he used this as a sort of vestibule in the winter, to keep the wind and the snow out of his living-room."
They both spoke instinctively in subdued tones, like intruders fearful of being overheard.
"He can't have been gone long. He was smoking here just now. The fireplace is still warm."
"He can't have intended to stay long, for he left everything open."
"Well, he would hardly expect to be disturbed up here."
"No wild thing would venture close to the fresh man smell. Still, it's natural to close up when you go away."
"What do you think?" she asked tremulously.
The sight of her wide, strained eyes, and the little teeth pressed into her lower lip, were inexpressibly painful to him. Clearly it was too much to ask of the high-strung woman, after she had nerved herself up to the ordeal, to go on waiting indefinitely in suspense.
"There are dozens of natural explanations," he said quickly. "Very likely he's just gone into the bush to hunt for his dinner."
Her hand involuntarily went to her breast. "I feel," she whispered, "as if there were something dreadfully--dreadfully wrong."
Stonor went outside and lustily holloaed. He received no answer.
It was impossible for them to sit still while they waited. Having seen everything in the house, they walked about outside. Off to the left Imbrie had painstakingly cleared a little garden. Strange it was to see the familiar potato, onion, turnip and cabbage sprouting in orderly rows beside the unexplored river.
Time passed. From a sense of duty they prepared a meal on the shore, and made a pretence of eating it, each for the other's benefit. Stonor did his best to keep up Clare's spirits, while at the same time his own mystification was growing. For in circling the shack he could find no fresh track anywhere into the bush. Tracks there were in plenty, where the man had gone for wood, or to hunt perhaps, but all more than twenty-four hours old. To be sure, there was the river, but it was not likely he had still a third canoe: and if he had gone up the river, how could they have missed him? As for going down, no canoe could live in that rapid, Stonor was sure; moreover, he supposed the falls were at the foot of it.