he truth went home to her, and she beheld something of the
misdirected idealism of the man, the intensity and steadfastness that
were the dominant traits of his nature. She could not doubt his belief
in the reality of his cause. Whether fancied or real the injury, deep
wells of emotion in his heart had broken their seals and flowed forth.

The wolf crouched on the heap of supplies, fearful to the depths of his
wild heart of this mighty stream, yet still putting his faith in his
master in the stern. Beatrice saw his wild, frightened eyes as he gazed
down into the frightful whirlpools. The banks seemed to whip past.

Then the rushing waters caught the craft and seemed to fling it into
the air. There was the swift sense of lightning and incredible movement,
of such incalculable speed as that with which a meteor blazes through
the sky, and then a mighty surging, struggle; an interminable instant of
ineffable and stupendous conflict. The bow dipped, split the foam; then
the raging waters seized the craft again, and with one great impulse
hurled it through the clouds of spray, down between the narrow portals
of rocks.

Beatrice came to herself with the realization that she had uttered a
shrill cry. Part of the impulse behind it was simply terror; but it was
also the expression of an intensity of sensation never before
experienced. She could have understood, now, the lure of the rapids to
experienced canoeists. She forced herself to look into the wild
cataract.

The boat sped at an unbelievable pace. Ben held his paddle like iron,
yet with a touch as delicate as that of a great musician upon piano
keys, and he steered his craft to the last inch. His face was still like
metal, but the eyes, steely, vivid, and magnetic, had a look of triumph.
The first of the great tests had been passed.

Sudden confidence in Ben's ability to guide her through to safety began
to warm the girl's frozen heart. There were no places more dangerous
than that just past; and he had handled his craft like a master. He was
a voyageur: as long as his iron control was sustained, as long as his
nerve was strong and his eye true she had every chance of coming out
alive. But they had irremediably cast their fortunes upon the river,
now. They could not turn back. She was in his whole charge, an agent of
vengeance against her own father and his confederates.

Hot, blinding tears suddenly filled her eyes. Her frantic fear of the
river had held them back fo