"You have heard?" she asked reading her father's face.

"I have heard. Have you no heart?" he answered. "If the Rapids had
drowned you!"

She came close to him and ran her fingers through his beard tenderly.
"I was not born to be drowned," she said softly.

Now that she was a long distance from Ingolby, the fact that a man had
held her in his arms left no shadow on her face. Ingolby was now only
part of her triumph of the Rapids. She tossed a hand affectionately
towards Tekewani and his braves.

"How!" said Gabriel Druse, and made a gesture of salutation to the
Indian chief.

"How!" answered Tekewani, and raised his arm high in response. An
instant afterwards Tekewani and his followers were gone their ways.

Suddenly Fleda's eyes rested on the young Romany who was now standing at
a little distance away. Apprehension came to her face. She felt her
heart stand still and her hands grow cold, she knew not why. But she saw
that the man was a Romany.

Her father turned sharply. A storm gathered in his face once more, and a
murderous look came into his eyes.

"Who is he?" Fleda asked, scarce above a whisper, and she noted the
insistent, amorous look of the stranger.