The man who could tame, and partly civilize, two Indian tribes was not like to fail when called on to subjugate men of his own or a kindred race. The triumvirate yielded. Next day, when the canoes had gone ahead, Power bestrode one of the dozen horses which accompanied the expedition. The rearguard set off at a canter, since a rolling down ran for eight miles to the first portage. As Power rode away with his new friends a long drawn-out, shrill wailing came from the forest. The Indians understood then. Their territory was left unspoiled; but they had lost their wonder-worker. Had they but known it, the "white fool" drew his hand across his eyes to clear away the tears. * * * * * For three weeks the horsemen and canoes followed the windings of a river the waters of which were never turbid or blue, but emerald green, except during occasional sunsets, when they became a vivid crimson. Then the party reached Port Madryn, whence a small steamer took its chief members to Carmen, in the Rio Negro Territory. The Spaniards hailed from that place, and Sinclair, who had sold his Chubut ranch, had left his daughter with friends there. There was no cable available; but, by this time, Sinclair and his partners would as soon have distrusted an archbishop's word as Power's. Each day he reverted more and more to type; yet he lost nothing of the dignity and air of reposeful strength which his wanderings had conferred. So, when he gave written orders for the various sums due on his bond, they were accepted with the confidence which would have been shown in the certified checks of a state bank. The vessel had to steam several miles up the Rio Negro (the river is called "black"; but it is green as the Chubut) before touching the wharf at Carmen. News of their coming had preceded them, though no mention had been made of Power, and it was vastly amusing to Sinclair when his daughter, after embracing him affectionately, turned and held out her hand to the brown-skinned stranger. "Welcome to Patagonia, Mr. Power!" she cried. "I was sure you would come to us some day; though I was told in Valparaiso, three years ago, that you were lost utterly in the depths of the Andes." "So you have not forgotten me?" was all that Power could find to say; though he flushed with pleasure at this prompt recognition. "Forgotten you? Didn't I tell you I should know you again in twenty years?" "I am glad to have survived even a third of the time in your memory." "Well, please don't test it so severely again. What have you been doing to yourself? You look like an Indian." "Meg," broke in her father, "I hoped that four months' residence in a Spanish household would give you a more polite way of expressing yourself."