This was exactly what the far-sighted Mr.Gilder had anticipated, and Winn fell an easy victim to his artfully planned trap.

For nearly an hour the boy, versed in wood-craft as he was, wandered and struggled through the dense undergrowth of that island forest.

Suddenly, as he burst his way through a thicket, he was confronted by the log-hut so lately occupied by the "river-traders." Winn shouted as he approached it; but, of course, received no reply.

It had the lonely look of a place long deserted, and the boy paused for but a single glance into its uninviting interior.

Then, getting his bearings anew by the sun that was beginning to struggle through the clouds, he pushed his way resolutely towards the western side of the island, which, somewhat to his surprise, he reached a few minutes later.
He emerged from the timber at the abandoned camp of the traders; but without stopping to examine it, he ran to the water's edge, and gazed anxiously both up and down stream.