s made from the rib of man and for his service. He
conveyed it to her plainly. He ruled horses with a hard hand, he drove
his dog teams with a biting lash, and he mastered women with a similar
lack of feeling or consideration.

He was still talking when the girl sprang to her feet and sent a shrill
cry out over the river, but instantly he was up and upon her, his hand
over her mouth, while she tore at it, screaming the name of Poleon
Doret. He silenced her to a smothered, sobbing mumble, and turned to
see, far out on the bosom of the great soiled river, a man in a bark
canoe. The craft had just swung past the bend above, and was still a
long way off--so far away, in fact, that Necia's signal had not reached
it, for its occupant held unwaveringly to the swiftest channel, his
body rising and falling in the smooth, unending rhythm of a
master-boatman tinder great haste, his arms up-flung now and then, as
the paddle glinted and flashed across to the opposite side.

Runnion glanced about hurriedly, then cursed as he saw no place of
concealment. The Peterborough stood out upon the bar conspicuously, as
did he and the girl; but the chance remained that this man, whoever he
was, would pass by, for his speed was great, the river a mile in width,
and the bend sharp. Necia had cried Poleon's name, but her companion
saw no resemblance to the Frenchman in this strange-looking voyager; in
fact, he could not quite make out what was peculiar about the
man--perhaps his eyes were not as sharp as hers--and then he saw that
the boatman was naked to the waist. By now he was drawing opposite them
with the speed of a hound. The girl, gagged and held by her captor's
hands, struggled and moaned despairingly, and, crouching back of the
boat, they might have escaped discovery in the gray morning light had
it not been for the telltale fire--a tiny, crackling blaze no larger
than a man's hat. It betrayed them. The dancing craft upon which their
eyes were fixed whipped about, almost leaping from the water at one
stroke, then came towards them, now nothing but a narrow thing, half
again the width of a man's body. The current carried it down abreast of
them, then past, and Runnion rose, releasing the girl, who cried out
with all her might to the boatman. He made no sound in reply, but drove
his canoe shoreward with quicker strokes. It was evident he would
effect his landing near the lower end of the spit, for now he was
within hearing distance, and d