girl, who gazed in bewilderment upon the bodies of the two dead men
which lay almost touching each other.

The man who had ordered Vermilion to release her, and who had fired the
shot that had killed him, stood calmly watching four lithe-bodied
canoemen securely bind the arms of the two scowmen who had attacked Big
Lena.

So sudden had been the transition from terror to relief in her heart
that the scene held nothing of repugnance to the girl, who was
conscious only of a feeling of peace and security. She even smiled
into the eyes of her deliverer, who had turned his attention from his
canoemen and stood before her, his soft-brimmed Stetson in his hand.

"Oh! I--I thank you!" exclaimed the girl, at a loss for words.

The man bowed low. "It is nothing. I am glad to have been of some
slight service." Something in the tone of the well-modulated voice,
the correct speech, the courtly manner, thrilled the girl strangely.
It was all so unexpected--so out of place, here in the wild. She felt
the warm colour mount to her face.

"Who are you?" she asked abruptly.

"I am Pierre Lapierre," answered the man in the same low voice.

In spite of herself, Chloe started slightly, and instantly she knew
that the man had noticed. He smiled, with just an appreciable
tightening at the corners of the mouth, and his eyes narrowed almost
imperceptibly. He continued: