The blow was a heavy one, and for a few minutes Grimshaw stood like one
who is stunned. The loss of that raft, under the circumstances, meant
ruin. It meant the loss of everything he had or cared for in the
world. At first the realization of this loss rendered him speechless.
Then he began to rave and revile his own carelessness. After a few
minutes devoted to this he again started up the trail. He was
determined to procure some craft and start in instant pursuit of the
raft. He would go in company with his partners if he ran across them,
but alone if he did not. Before he reached the far edge of the timber
he met Plater running and breathless.
"Get back to the raft!" shouted the new-comer. "They're after us!"
"They've got us," was the bitter answer. "At least they've got the
raft, and we must hunt some boat in which to follow them at once."
A few words more explained the situation, and, angry as he was, Plater
did not stop to waste time in idle reproaches just then. He only
said, "It's that sneak Gilder's doings, I'll bet my pile."
Grimshaw agreed to this, and as they hurried along they both thought of
their partner as floating down the river on the raft in company with
their enemies and glorying over their discomfiture.
"We'll get even with him, though," growled Plater.
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