They splashed across the shallow ford. On the other side Stonor curtly bade Imbrie to dismount and ungirth. He did likewise. Clare and Mary awaited their coming at a few paces’ distance. Clare’s eyes were fixed on Imbrie with a painful intensity. Curiosity and apprehension were blended in her gaze. Imbrie avoided looking at her as long as possible.
They turned out the weary beasts to the grass, and Stonor marched his prisoner up to Clare—there was no use trying to hedge with what had to be gone through.
“Here is Imbrie,” he said laconically.
The man moistened his dry lips, and mustered a kind of bravado. “Hello, Clare!” he said flippantly.
“Do you recognize him?” asked Stonor—dreading her answer.
“No—I don’t know—perhaps,” she stammered. “I feel that I have seen him before somewhere.”
Imbrie’s face underwent an extraordinary change. He stared at Clare dumbfounded.
“You’re sure,” murmured Clare uncertainly to Stonor.
“Oh, yes, this is the Kakisas’ White Medicine Man.”
Imbrie turned sharply to Stonor. “What’s the matter with her?” he demanded.