NOOTLAKWATLLeft to themselves after Black John’s departure, Ken and Lois explored the flat across the river for the site of the old cabin, pausing at frequent intervals to listen for the sound of shots from upriver. But no shots were heard, and late in the afternoon they stepped into the canoe and slipped swiftly downstream.
“I hope they didn’t kill that hooch runner, much as he deserves it,” said Lois, resting her paddle and watching the banks slip swiftly past. “Maybe they’ll just take the liquor away from him and send him back where he came from.”
Ken smiled. “I think it’s safe to say that whatever disposition is made of him will be conclusive. I rather like your friend Black John.”
Phineas and Bill stood near the landing as the two beached the canoe. “You seem to have made quite a d
