f something which sent him in a
flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree
trunk.

As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou
broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of
wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild
grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in
fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their
Western origin.

In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a
slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a
captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky
paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the
craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to
the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would
seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a
kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian
paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the
other perhaps a private soldier.

It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must
pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these
be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher,
tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye
behind the sheltering tree.

[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