And now, as the canoe drifted farther and farther away, she settled back on her haunches, raised her head to the sun which she could not see and gave her last long wailing cry for Kazan.
The canoe lurched.

A tawny body shot through the air--and Kazan was gone.
The man reached forward for his rifle.

Joan's hand stopped him.

Her face was white.
"Let him go back to her! Let him go--let him go!" she cried.

"It is his place--with her." And Kazan reaching the shore, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and looked for the last time toward the woman.