In one of them Rene recognized the unwelcome face of Chitta the Snake, but the other he had never before seen.
With a loudly beating heart and almost without breathing he watched them, thankful enough for the shelter of broad lily-leaves that raised their green barrier in front of him.

He was fully conscious that upon the result of the conversation the two were holding, in such low tones that he could not distinguish a word, depended his own fate.

He knew, from what Has-se had told him, that Chitta regarded him as an enemy, and he knew also that for his enemies an Indian reserves but one fate, and will kill them if he can.
Thus it was with the feeling that he had escaped a mortal peril, and with a long-drawn sigh of relief, that he saw the discussion come to an end, and the strange canoe continue on its course up-stream.

It disappeared in the direction from which he and Has-se had come before encountering the moccasin.

Then he became feverishly impatient to leave a place that seemed so full of danger, and he longed eagerly for Has-se's return.
Although Rene watched anxiously for Has-se, he also cast frequent glances towards the stream, fearful lest Chitta and his companion should again appear.