But what was this? There came the sound of heavy feet dropping upon the bottom of the boat. This was followed by a wolf-like growl. Then came the panting breath of terrific struggle.
Florence regained full consciousness in time to see her adversary caught in the grip of a powerful man, and to witness the feat of strength that lifted him clear of the boat and sent him sprawling into black waters a full ten feet away.
At that her deliverer turned and smiled, showing all his fine white teeth.
“Bihari!” she exclaimed. “Bihari the gypsy!”
“Yes, Miss Florence.” The man bowed. “Here we meet again. And this one—” He glanced at the man struggling in the water. “What of him?”
“It’s not far to shore. Perhaps he can swim that far.”
“Ah, yes, I am sure of that.” Bihari’s grin broadened. “Come then, we will forget him. You will come aboard our fine little schooner. My good Mama will look you over and see if you are hurt.”
To her surprise Florence found the flag-bedecked boat close at hand. The villainous intruder had been outgeneraled by his own tactics. He had come upon Florence silently, unobserved. In this same manner Bihari, witnessing the struggle, had stolen upon him. Not, however, until he had won the battle had Bihari discovered he was defending a long-time friend.
“Florence!” his buxom wife cried as the girl climbed aboard. “It is indeed good to see you! And where is my Jeanne?”
“She—she’s not far away. You shall see her within an hour if you choose.”