he White Medicine Man
Etzooah never forget he call him friend."

"Well, we've found one gentleman among the Kakisas," Stonor said to
Clare, as they paddled on.

The first rapid was no great affair. There was plenty of water, and they
were carried racing smoothly down between low rocky banks. Stonor named
the place the Grumbler from the deep throaty sound it gave forth.

In quiet water below they discussed what they had heard.

"It gets thicker and thicker," said Stonor. "It seems to me that
Imbrie's having been at the Horse Track lately must have had something
to do with the chilly reception we received."

"Why should it?" said Clare. "He has nothing to fear from the coming of
anybody."

"Then why did they say nothing about his visit?"

She shook her head. "You know I cannot fathom these people."

"Neither can I, for that matter. But it does seem as if he must have
told them not to tell anybody they had seen him."

"It is not like him."

"Ahteeah said Imbrie hated white men; Etzooah said his heart was kind to
all men: which is the truer description?"

"Etzooah's," she said instantly. "He has a simple, kind heart. He lives
up to the rule 'Love thy neighbour' better than any man I ever knew."

"Well, we'll know to-morrow," said Stonor, making haste to drop the
disconcerting subject. Privately he asked himself: "Why, if Imbrie is
such a good man, does she seem to dread meeting him?" There was no
answer forthcoming.

The rapids became progressively wilder and rougher as they went on down,
and Stonor was not without anxiety as to the coming back. Sometimes they
came on white water unexpectedly around a bend, but the river was not so
crooked now, and more often far ahead they saw the white rabbits dancing
in the sunshine, causing their breasts to constrict with a foretaste of
fear. As the current bore them inexorably closer, and they picked out
the rocks and the great white combers awaiting them, there was always a
moment when they longed to turn aside from their fate. But once having
plunged into the welter, fear vanished, and a great exhilaration took
its place. They shouted madly to each other--even stolid Mary, and were
sorry when they came to the bottom. Between rapids the smooth stretches
seemed insufferably tedious to pass.

Stonor's endeavour was to steer a middle course between the great
billows in the middle of the channel, which he feared might swamp the
Serpent or break her in half, and the rocks