"Here," was the answer.
"Ready with the canoe! Back there you hear them shouting. Thank the saints the señorita no longer struggles! She has fainted."
"What got?" asked the man on the shore, who was a full-blooded Indian guide, known as Red Ben. "Big bundle."
"Never mind what I have here. I paid you to wait and be ready to take me away in a hurry, and now it is in a hurry I must go. Swing the canoe so I may put her in it."
The shouts of men and excited voices of women came to their ears from the pavilion.
"Let them bark!" muttered Inza's captor. "I'll soon be far away, and the water will leave no trail for Merriwell, the gringo, to follow. Once he trailed me, but I have taken precautions this time."
Unhesitatingly he stepped into the water beside the canoe, in the bottom of which he placed Inza, with the blanket still wrapped about her. A moment later he was seated in the canoe, which Red Ben pushed off from shore, springing in himself and seizing a paddle.
"Keep in the shadows near the shore," directed the wearer of the wolf mask. "Paddle hard, for much trouble it might make us both should we be seen."
"You steal gal?" questioned the curious Indian.
"She belongs to me," was the answer. "My enemy claims her, but she is mine. Don't talk, Ben—paddle for your life. Were we to be seen now——"