Evening star., 1941-08-31

q ROCKY ISLAND loomed through the
~ world send mist. and Poleon checked
- - the forward sweep of his canoe By
straining his eyes he could make out the warn
ing words of the sign: Beware This Fork -
Rabides du Mort.
Poleon beached his canoe, stepped out,
climbed to the sign. His stubby hands gripped
it strongly, shook. noted with satisfaction that
the post was firmly embedded in its cairn of
rocks. Nets Andre, he unused, would have
taunted him for his caution, arguing the sign
was put here by the Mounted Police The
mounties do not blunder. Therefore the sign
continues to remain firm at its base and to
point the correct way.
But in the woods Poleon took nothing on
trust. Here where the waters parted, man had
to choose which fork he would take, and choose
well, or else dip his way to DEATH 1t was not
true, as Andre charged and as the Mounted
Police most likely supposed, that Poleon was a
timid man. Cautious only, and rightly So The
animals, big and little - consider them. They
tread stealthily through the woods, shifting
everything, looking everywhere, listening And
the most cautious lived the longest
Back at the waters edge Poleon stopped
short. His eyes had perceived some minute dis
placement of gravel not made by his own moe
casined feet. He looked further for telltale
signs which might show where a man had driven
canoe ashore. He found no signs For mo-
ment he stared broodingly into the waist deep
water while the witch wind of early morning
breathed about him.
He returned to the signpost. Dropping on his
knees, he started removing the cairn rocks. He
had to lift only few before he could see that
the rock moss had been previously broken Not
longer than yesterday, because the day before
there had been rain, and the rain would have
settled the sand and silt in the Crevices.
There was but one thing to suppose. The mad
killer whom he tracked had changed the sign to
point to the wrong fork, cunningly thinking to
lure his pursuers into those rapids of death!
The hair tugged at its roots on the back of
Poleon's thick neck as he contemplated his
narrow escape. 1t was known that somewhere
ahead the two forks of this river joined again
1t was said that the waters mated in black pools
overlaid with lily pads and white lily flowers.
UOyageurs into this great lone land, no man had
taken his canoe through the whitewater gorge
and lived to boast about it. For if by miracle
he escaped the grinding death of the rapids, he
met death in the overfalls, drop, it was said
the height of a valley spruce!
Poleon went swiftly to work again. If the
madman had changed the sign to point down
The wrong fork, the thing to do was change it
back so that nretis Andre and all who might
come carelessly after him would not be guided
down the wrong waterway.
Afoat again, Poleon padded strongly to
make up for his loss of time. 1t was Poleon' s
self-appointed chore to track down this mad
man, to apprehend him before metis Andre
could Yes and to apprehend him before the
Mounted Police could. to prove to those police
that Poleon was to use their quaint phras-
ing "a stout fellow, worthy of the job of
tracker for the Fort Endurance post
Almost since Poleon had been old enough to
wrap chubby fingers around brass button,
wide eyes blinking at the scarlet uniform, it had
been his answering ambition to become a
tracker for the Mounted Police.