Free Corpses at Indian Stone by Philip Wylie Page B

she said, and she dove into the lake.

    CHAPTER 6

    Aggie was not looking for Danielle. He was looking for nobody and hoping to succeed in that quest. He paddled for a mile at his astonishing pace before the expenditure of energy had given him any release. Then he set the paddle across the thwarts and leaned back; the light craft coasted on its momentum. The sun relaxed him. A frail breeze swung the bow of the canoe in an arc, giving him a panorama of the lake. It lay in a tree-clad valley. Dark cottage roofs and the clubhouse gables penetrated the foliage. Garnet Knob broke craggily to the south. On lower and more rolling hills were stretches of the golf fairway and the vivid rectangles of several greens. Aggie let his mind dissolve.

    Golf courses, he reflected, were very beautiful. Too bad he didn't play. A being from another world, landing on earth on a golf course, if he knew it was intended for a game, would surely think the human race was marvelous. Golf courses were like gardens, and to make a garden for a game was a noble piece of imagining.

    He began to grin, thinking of the startled expressions of the Indian Stoners when they'd seen him in his bathing suit. Beth, especially. Beth, in her bathing suit, was another sort of surprise--more breath-taking than any man could be. Good old Sarah, in hopefully picking Beth for him, had at least credited him with an appreciation of beauty. Sarah hadn't chosen the glasses-wearing intellectual usually reserved for him by thoughtful hostesses. Beth had a bushel of beauty--and a figure you might see in the motion pictures, but not on many beaches.

    He put the paddle under his left arm and idly sculled along with his right hand. He was still leaning back against the seat when he saw the other canoe. It was pulled up on the shore -hidden-and only a vigilant eye would have caught the glitter of a patch of enamel-caught it, and identified it as something not in nature. He sculled over that way in mild curiosity. As he drew near, the paint spot vanished behind leaves.

    He beached his own canoe and set his bare feet ankle": deep in the sun-warmed water. The other canoe was right-side up. In it was a green bathing cap and a towel-but that little was much. The towel was monogrammed "DD." Aggie peered into the woods and saw nothing. He listened, and heard nothing. He looked at the ground and read there by the damp impressions the fact that Danielle had drawn her canoe out of sight, walked around to be sure it was hidden, and hurried off along the dim trail that skirted Lower Lake. She was wearing bath shoes.

    Another grin flashed on Aggie's face. The doctor's daughter had once caught him on her trail by the tracks he had left. This--was his turn. He considered following Danielle's trail and guessed where it would lead. He decided to wait. He picked a spot under a hemlock; the ground was dry and soft. He lay down there, squinting through the green needles at the blue sky. He waited for a long time--perhaps an hour.

    Danielle came quietly, but he heard her at a distance. She walked quickly, and she was breathing hard. She saw the canoe, and stopped dead. From his post under the hemlock branches, he observed that she was glistening with perspiration and that her bathing suit showed signs of haste in underbrush. A shoulder strap was broken. Threads were pulled. Her smooth hair was, for once, tangled and untidy, like the hair of a determined tomboy. She swung her eyes searchingly, saw him, and inhaled sharply.

    Aggie stood up. "Hello. I noticed your canoe--beached here-and came ashore to investigate."

    Her eyes were hard emerald. "Still--following me!"

    "Not at all. Hadn't the faintest idea you'd be here. Chance."

    She came a few steps closer. She was no longer alarmed. She noticed for the first time the interesting fact about Aggie's physique--considered it boldly--dismissed it. She said, "Will you help me put my canoe in? I'm tired."

    "Certainly. I'll paddle you back, if you