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 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."