[Illustration]

As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream.  As he did so, Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his concealment.  He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw.  Surely those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke!

Yet how could Sir Arthur be here?  What could be his errand, and how had he been guided hither?  These sudden questions might, upon the instant, have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe.

The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his hiding-place.  A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by half a dozen guns.  He hardly noticed this.  His own gun he left leaning against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he came on, calling out to those in the stream.  He heard the command of the leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore.

“Have down your guns, Sir Arthur,” cried Law, loudly and gaily.  “We are none but friends here.  Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not some miracle of mine eyes.”

The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in his amazement.  His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying comprehension, even as he approached the shore.  As he left the boat, for an instant Pembroke’s hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened.

“Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?” he said.  “I could not have believed myself so fortunate.”

“’Tis myself and no one else,” replied Law.  “But why this melodrama, Sir Arthur?  Why reject my hand?”

“I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr. Law!” said Pembroke.  “This may be accident, but it seems to me the justice of God.  Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law—­”

“What mean you, Sir Arthur?” exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull red of anger.  “I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man’s leave for it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man’s leave for that.  I admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better without threats.”

“You are not armed,” said Sir Arthur.  He gazed at the bronzed figure before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of his arm.  Law himself laughed keenly.