As It Was in the Beginning (2024)

AS IT WAS

IN THE

BEGINNING

BY

PHILIP VERRILL MIGHELS

Author of The Furnace of Gold and Thurley Ruxton

New York
Desmond FitzGerald, Inc.

Copyright, 1912
By DESMOND FITZGERALD, INC.
All Rights Reserved

CONTENTS

AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER I

A TRUSTED MESSENGER

Grenville was not the type to be readily excited, yet a glow ofexceptional brilliance shone in his eyes as he met the searching gazeof his friend, and wondered if Fenton could be jesting.

That he had made no reply whatsoever to Fenton's proposition he failedto realize till Gerald spoke again.

"Well, Sid," demanded that impetuous lieutenant of finance, "gone dumb?Perhaps I haven't made it plain," and he particularized on his fingers."You get an ocean trip of eight or ten weeks' duration, tropic sun atit* best, leisurely business without a fleck of bother, absolute rest,good provender, thorough recuperation, your entire expenses cheerfullypaid, vast service rendered to me, no time lost on your equilibrator,time for countless new inventions to sprout in your fertile brain—andthe unutterable joy of escaping this abominable climate, practically atonce!"

Grenville's smile, still brightly boyish, despite the many reverses andhardships of his six and twenty years, came creeping to his eyes. Hiswan face suggested a tint of color.

"Don't wake me up for a moment, Fen," he answered. "I haven't dreamedanything like it for years."

"Dreamed?" repeated Fenton, resuming his interrupted pacing up and downthe rug, where the firelight reddened his profile. "Does that mean youlike it?—you'll go?"

"Would Cinderella go to a ball?" replied the still incredulousGrenville, half seriously. "What's the joker, old chap? What is theworst that could happen at the midnight stroke of twelve?"

Fenton came at once and laid his hands on the broad, bony shoulders ofhis friend.

"Have I ever played a joker with you yet?" said he. "Never mind theapology. I forgive you. I understand the compliment. Proposal soundstoo good to be true, and all that sort of rubbish. The fact is, oldman, I want you to go to Canton, China, and bring home my affiancedbride. That's absolutely all there is to the business. You need thechange and voyage; I haven't the time to go out there and fetch hermyself. Elaine is alone in that heathenish country, miserablyheartsick over her uncle's sudden death. She wishes to return at once.I can't let the poor girl come alone. I've no one in the world but youI'd care to send—and there you are."

The glow departed from Grenville's eyes. His doubts of any propositionwith a woman in the case lurked deep in his level gaze. His facebecame once more the rugged mask with which he had so long confronted aworld persistently gray. The smile he summoned to his lips was morequizzical than mirthful.

"It sounds perfectly simple," he replied. "But—you know there areseveral tales, recorded in prose and verse, of kings who have sent atrusted messenger on precisely such an errand. The joker somehowmanaged to get into play."

"Just so," agreed Fenton, readily. "Three or four times in a thousandcases the girl and the—er—messenger rather thoughtlessly—well, acomplication arises. The percentage, however, is excessively low.We'll consider that a negligible possibility. You see, I know both youand Elaine, and I am not a king. The question is—will you go?"

Grenville was always amused by Fenton's arguments.

"I have seen no statistics on the subject," he admitted. "In thisparticular instance you think there is not the slightest danger?"

"Of finding in old Sid a modern Launcelot?" Fenton turned his friendabout till both of them faced down the length of the room. "Well," headded, "to be sure——"

Grenville's quick glance had sped to the massive mirror, ten feet away,where both himself and Fenton were reflected from heels to crown. Hecomprehended in a glance the ill-clothed, thin, ungainly figure hepresented: his big hands hanging loosely down, his face too ruggedlymodeled, too sallow for attractiveness, his hair too rebellious fororder.

A Launcelot indeed! The irony of the situation struck home to hissense of humor.

"Have a look," continued Fenton, his nervous glance indifferent to hisown athletic fitness, the perfect grooming of his person, the grace andelegance of his tailoring. "Do you discern anything of the disloyalambassador in that hard-worked friend and comrade of my happiestyears?" His eyes gleamed irresistibly. "You see, old chap, you havetrusted an invention of perhaps incalculable worth to my honor, andmust leave both your fame and possible fortune in my keeping while youare long away."

"Yes, but——"

"I know, exactly. This is the sort of thing you and I have always doneby one another. I had no thought of refusing your trust in me, andso—I have booked your passage for Wednesday."

He turned again to the mantel and began to fill his pipe.

Grenville pivoted slowly and rubbed the corner of his jaw.

"You have—booked my passage—for Wednesday?"

Fenton nodded. "Elaine is quite desolate and lonely. You needimmediate sunshine and warmth, and can do no good remaining here. Fineday all round for starting, Wednesday, and no boat sailing sooner.There are one thousand dollars in that wad by the statue of Anubis, foryour outfit and incidental cash."

Grenville glanced mechanically at the dog-headed god of the ancientEgyptians, apparently guarding the money towards which Fenton had waveda careless gesture.

"One thou——"

"If it isn't enough, draw on my bankers for more," interrupted Fenton,puffing at his calabash industriously. "I have written Elaine so fullyyou'll have nothing to explain."

"By George!" said Grenville, more aggressively, "I like your nerve—theway you'd plunge me into trouble! Do you think I'm a mere senselessrack of wires and bones because I'm not my usual self? What's toprevent me from falling head over heels—— What's the rest of hername—Elaine what? And you probably have her photograph somewhereamong your possessions."

"Her full name," Fenton answered, moving to the desk beside the mirror,"is Elaine Lytton—twenty-one this month. We've known each other sevenyears." He returned, extending a small-sized photograph. "Fine girl.That's her picture. Good likeness—sent me last winter from China."

Grenville studied the photograph superficially. He used it to tap onthe table as he once more faced his host.

"About as I expected," he announced with his customary candor."Nice-looking girl—nothing extra, perhaps, but nice enough. Now tellme how any healthy male friend of yours can guarantee not to fall inlove with Elaine, on a long, lazy trip through the tropics," and hecast the picture from him towards the lamp.

Fenton relighted his pipe. "Well, suppose he did commit the folly youdescribe, what then?"

"What then?" echoed Grenville, incredulously. "By the long, curvedlashes of Juno's eyes, if I were the man you'd certainly see what then!"

"All right," said the imperturbable Fenton. "I accept your conditions,fully, and about your outfit I'd suggest——"

"Hold on!" interrupted Grenville. "I haven't accepted your commission,much as the trip——"

"The trip!" said Fenton. "Ah! that's the point! I insist on yourmaking the trip, you see, and taking the rest. Fetching Elaine fromChina is merely incidental—only don't forget her completely and comeback here empty-handed." He sat down to wrestle with his pipe.

Grenville looked at him amusedly.

"Now, see here," he said, "don't you make the slightest mistake, youconfident old idiot. If I should just happen to fancy Elaine, Iwouldn't give you twenty cents in Mexican money for your chances at thewedding bells and trimmings."

"Then you'll go!" Fenton suddenly exploded, springing to his feet."Come on, that's settled—shake."

But Grenville retreated from the outstretched hand, a queer smileplaying on his features.

"Hang your infernal self-conceit," he answered; "you don't think Icould win her if I tried."

"I don't believe you'll try."

"That isn't the point. I might. If I loved her I would, you can betyour final shoe peg! Your proposition isn't fair—subjecting a man,and a friend at that, to possible temptation, all kinds of treachery,and a war between love and duty. Rot that kind of duty! I want you toknow that if I take the trip and happen to fall in this muddle withyour girl, I'm going to pitch your infernal old duty game overboard inless than two seconds and go in and win her, if I can!"

"Well, what's all the row about, after that?" inquired Fenton asbefore. "Haven't I said I accept your challenge? Go out there andfetch her, that's all. As for the rest—win her, if you can!"

"I don't say I'll try to win the girl. I may not like her for a cent."

"Then why all this futile argument and waste of valuable time?"

"But I may—confound your egotistic nerve, and your insistence! And Iwarn you, Fen, I mean every word, in case——"

"I understand—I understand you fully, without repetition," Fenton oncemore interrupted. "For Heaven's sake, give me your hand, old man, andcease firing."

"You meant it, then—no strings on the proposition?"

"Not a string—absolutely not a string."

A strange new thrill of pleasure crept into Grenville's being, warminghis thin, anæmic pulses suddenly, as he met Fenton's gaze and once morepermitted his thoughts to dwell on all the proposal embraced. SinceFenton refused to be worried concerning himself and the girl whosupplied the motive for the trip, then why should he consider itfurther? Elaine was, in fact, swiftly fading from his reflections.

All his nature yearned towards the tropic seas. All his overwroughtframe and substance ached for the long, lazy days of indolence, rest,and recuperation that alone could restore him to himself. He hadalways longed for precisely this excursion to the far-off edge of thesphere. His faculties leaped to the new-made possibility of a contactwith the ancient world, heretofore so wholly inaccessible.

Already new color had come to his face and a new blaze of fire to hiseyes. Privations and toil, those two unsparing allies that had madesuch inroads on his health and strength, seemed fading harmlessly away.The prospect was far too alluring to be resisted. There was no goodreason in the world for refusing this favor to a friend.

The brightness of face that had ever made him so lovable, cameunbidden, there in the glow.

"I suppose I'll have to go," he presently admitted, "if it's only towin your girl."

"Shake," said Fenton; and they shook.

CHAPTER II

AN UNEXPECTED OUTBURST

The sea is an ancient worker of miracles in amazing transformation, butrarely does it bring about a more complete or startling metamorphosisthan that which was wrought upon Grenville—trusted messenger for afriend.

Long before the shores of Cathay loomed welcomely upon his vision hehad lost all sense of weariness or depression, and likewise all thatworn and gaunt appearance of a large, thin frame inhabited by a doggedbut thoroughly exhausted spirit.

He was once more his strong, bold, interested self, merry of speech,bright-eyed, untamed in his buoyant nature, lovable, thoughtful ofthose about him, impetuous, and never to be repressed. He had flirteduninterruptedly with all the old women and the children on the outwardvoyage, and was now as cheerfully repeating this gay performance on thesteamship "Inca," homeward bound, on which he was certainly thefavorite of the crew and his fellow-passengers.

The fortnight passed with Elaine upon the sea had been whollyuneventful, save for the vast commotion astir in Grenville's being.The worst that could happen, he told himself, had happened. His dailydeportment towards his charge had baffled, piqued, and amused thatyoung lady alternately, and convinced her that here was a brand-newspecimen of the genus man with which she had never had a genuineexperience.

She found him boyish, unexpected, apparently indifferent, and evenunaware, at times, of her existence on the vessel, then fairlyeffervescent with deviltry that left her all but gasping. He was notto be classified, fixed, or calculated, save in certain traits offearlessness, generosity, and kindness to those most needful of ahelping smile, a merry word, or a spell of relief from daily cares.

He commanded a certain admiration from the puzzled girl, but as yet heractual feelings towards him were quite unanalyzed. She was constantlyfinding herself astonished at the scope and variety of his information;she was glad to listen when he talked; she was frequently touched tothe very heart by his tender care of one or two frail little beings onthe ship to whom much of his time was devoted.

There they were, with the situation between them apparently commonplaceto dullness—till this one particular day.

It was not a common day on the ocean. Despite the fact he was neithermariner nor meteorologist, Grenville felt some vast disturbanceimpending in all the lifeless air, regardless of the fact the barometerwas steady and the calm, rainless spell had been exceptionallyprolonged. It was not precisely a premonition that addressed itself tohis senses; it was something he could not explain.

A wave of heat passed swiftly through his body, leaving a strangeexcitement in its train, as he paused for a second to wonder if the"symptoms" he sensed were concerned not at all with sea or weather, butwholly with Elaine.

He admitted the love—the wild, free, passionate love that had swepthim away, past all safe anchorage, with her entry into his existence.He had made no effort to conceal it from himself, to deny itsoverwhelming force. He had cursed Gerald Fenton most heartily andconsistently for casting him into this maelstrom of conflictingemotions, and daily and nightly he had waged mighty war with thatfortunately absent individual, who had calmly accepted his challenge.

The trouble had come unbidden. Elaine was so wholly different from thegirl represented by Fenton's photograph! The picture had seemed solifeless—and she was so gloriously alive! That one fact alone seemedsufficient excuse to Grenville for all that had happened to him since.He had not been fully informed, he argued, respecting her wondrouscharms.

The two weeks mentioned, with Elaine at his side, had certainlyaccomplished the world-old complication once more, despite all his hardand honest struggling. When the fight had ceased he did not even know.What Elaine's private attitude was towards himself he had taken no timeto inquire. That part mattered less than nothing at all—at least asconcerned the present. He had warned old Fenton what to expect, butnow—by the gods—how deeply he was mired in the quandary!

He was certainly mighty hard hit, he confessed, but meantime wasequally positive that the singular something he plainly felt, invadingthe air and telling its message to some faint, imperfect sense of hisbeing, had nothing whatsoever to do with this business of passionateemotions. Yet not a sign of uneasiness on the part of officers andcrew could his keenest wit discover, in any quarter of the iron craftplowing steadily on across the sea.

He had climbed to the topmost deck of the ship, where he and acarpenter, who was hewing out a boat thwart with a gleaming adze, weretemporarily alone. It was not Grenville's manner of wooing to hoverbeside Elaine throughout the day or evening. He had done no wooing, asa matter of fact, beyond assuming a somewhat bold but unoffendingguardianship, which she might have found refreshing had it not sofrequently taken her breath with its very matter-of-factness.

At the present moment, as Grenville was well aware, she was somewheredown on the shaded portion of the promenade, where the erstwhile stirof tropic air had ebbed to utter sluggishness and finally expired. Oneof the purser's young assistants, dressed in wrinkled white duck, wasdumbly adoring at her side.

Impatiently banishing Fenton from his thoughts, Grenville gazed idly atthe sultry sky, and as idly at the carpenter, wielding the polishedadze. When a deckhand presently called this workman away, Grenvilletook up the implement left behind, felt he would like to swing it justonce at the root of the complication now arisen between himself and hisdistant friend—on whose money he was voyaging—and whose sweethearthis nature demanded for a mate—and, replacing the tool on theweathered planks, he thrust both hands in his pockets and paced to andfro, beside a pair of inverted lifeboats and a raft, that occupied mostof the deck.

He finally flung himself down on a hatch, in the shade of awhite-painted funnel, and plunged his warring faculties intoconcentrated study of a problem in mechanics involved in a newinvention. On the back of a letter, drawn from an inside pocket, hedrew black hieroglyphics, that to him were wheels and levers thatrelieved his state of mind.

Absorption claimed him for its own. The swift, weird changes of thesky and atmosphere escaped his engrossed attention. He was not evenaware of her presence till Elaine had been standing for fully fiveminutes, a few feet only from his side.

When he looked up at last and beheld once more that singular glow andbeauty in the depths of her luminous eyes, and felt the subtle flatteryinvolved in the fact she had come to the place to find him, seek himout, a flood of tidal passion surged to his outermost veins.

It was just the one straw too much, this unforeseen encounter, with thesmile upon her lips. His sturdy resolutions all went down in utterconfusion before the wild gladness of his heart. Yet he made nooutward sign for Elaine to read.

Calmly, to all appearances, he placed the letter in his pocket.

"I hope," said Elaine, "I haven't disrupted anything important."

He arose and gazed at her oddly.

"You have, Elaine," he answered, in a voice he strove hard to control."You've not only disrupted everything heretofore moving along itsaccustomed path of order, law, and calm, but you've also upset allsorts of established institutions and raised some merry Hades."

A spirit of the lively old Nick was infusing with his youthful blood ashe stood there gazing upon her. Elaine, however, either failed todetect its presence, or she failed to understand.

"I?" she said, "Mr. Grenville. I'm sorry. What have I done?"

He could not have done the conventional thing, the deliberate, calm, orexpected thing, to save his immortal soul. His nature was far toohonest, too unabashed. He came a step nearer—and then she knew, butshe could not have moved at the moment had death been the oncomingpenalty for remaining where she stood. She had never been so startledin her life.

They two were absolutely alone and unobserved. Of this the impulsiveGrenville was aware—and the knowledge had fired a certain madness inhis being he was powerless to quell.

"Elaine," he said, as he suddenly caught her unresisting hands, "you'veput old Fenton entirely out of the game. You're going to marry me."

She was dimly conscious of pain in her hands, where he crushed them inhis ardor. But her shocked surprise was uppermost, as she faced himwith blazing eyes.

"Mr. Grenville!" she said. "Mr. Grenville—you—— To say—tospeak——"

"Elaine," he interrupted gayly, bright devils dancing in his boyisheyes, "it simply couldn't be helped. We were intended to meet—andwere cut out for one another. So the hour must come when you'll pitchold Gerald's ring in the sea by order of the very Fates themselves!"

She snatched away her hands in indignation.

"For shame!" she cried in rising anger, her whole womanly being aflamewith resistance to all his growing madness. "You haven't the slightestright in the world——"

"Right?" he repeated. "Right? I love you, Elaine! I love you!Haven't I said——"

"Oh, the treachery—the treachery to Gerald!" she cut in, with swiftlyincreasing emotion. "To say such things when your honor——"

"Wait!" he interrupted, eagerly. "I told him what he might expect fromany such arrangement. I warned him precisely what might happen. Heunderstood—accepted my conditions—made it a challenge—declared if Itried I couldn't win! And now——"

"You can't—you can't!—you can't!" she cried at him, angrily. "Tothink that Gerald—to think you'd dare——"

He suddenly caught her in his arms and crushed her against his breast.He kissed her on the mouth, despite her struggles.

"Elaine," he said, "you are mine—all mine—my sweetheart—mycomrade—my mate!"

She finally planted her fists against his throat and thrust him fromher in fury.

"You brute!" she answered, sobbing in her anger. "I hate you—I loatheyou—despise you utterly! I wish I might never see your face again!"

"I'll make you love me, Elaine," he answered, white at last withintensity and deep-going passion. "I'll make you love me, as I loveyou—as madly—as wholly—as wondrously—before ever we two get home."

Already Elaine was retreating from the place.

"Never!" she answered, wildly. "Never, never, never!—do youhear?—not if it takes this boat a hundred years!" And gropingly,almost blinded by her sense of shame and rage, she fled from the deckand down the stairs, leaving him shaken where he stood.

CHAPTER III

A MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY

Not the slightest alarm had invaded the ship, when Grenville finallyurged his senses back to the normal, notwithstanding the unaccustomedsuddenness with which the aspect of the day had been reversed.

The storm broke at last, about one in the afternoon, with a deluge ofrain and an onslaught of wind that seemed for a time refreshing. Thehuge steel leviathan appeared to elevate her nose, give her shoulders ashake that settled her firmly in the gray disorder of the elements, andthen to accept the rude old contest with a certain indifference, bornof well-established prowess.

By two o'clock there was nothing refreshing suggested. A dull,stubborn struggle was waging in the drab of a wild and narrow field ofcommotion. Chill, musty billows of air, made thick by something thatwas neither scud nor mist, pounced heavily upon the laboring "Inca" ina manner chaotic and irregular. The sea was rising sullenly, itswaves, like tumultuous cohorts, with ragged white banners, ceaselesslyadvancing.

With an easy, monotonous assurance the great device of steam and ironplugged steadily onward. It could ride out a sea of tremendouslygreater violence. It knew from long experience every crest and everyabyss of these mountains of air and water. It met huge impactsmajestically, with a prow that cleaved them through, while its huge,wet bulk plowed up its mileage with a barely diminished speed.

Few of the passengers were actually alarmed. A storm evolved sosuddenly, they were confidently informed, would expend itself in onebrief spasm of impotent fury and subside almost as it had come. It wasall some mere local disturbance that the spell of dry, calm weather hadaccumulated too swiftly for any save a violent discharge.

Discomfort increased to a certain pitch; locomotion about the saloonbecame impracticable. The crew alone remained upon their legs. Itseemed like the climax to the storm. But another stage swiftlydeveloped.

It might have been somewhat after three P.M. when a shroud of darknesssettled from the heavens, its substance foreign both to cloud and sea.It was thicker than before, and decidedly more musty. As black asnight, but unrelated to all ordinary essences of darkness, it wrappedthe stormy universe in Stygian folds with a suddenness strangelydisquieting.

The cataclysm followed almost instantly, as if from behind a concealingcurtain. It came in dimensions incredible, a prodigious wall ofrumpled water, like a mobile mountain chain. It towered forbiddinglyabove the quivering vessel for one terrible moment of threat, thenconfusion, utter and seemingly eternal, plunged roaringly over andunder the helpless ocean toy of steel, submerging the very sea itselfin Niagaras of sound and weight and motion.

A hideous shudder quivered through the feeble plaything of theelements. Strange, muffled thunderings, sensations of oblivionsweeping miles deep across the ocean, and a horrible conviction of theship's insignificance, impressed themselves pellmell upon the senses,while ebon blackness closed instantly down, like annihilation's swiftaccompaniment, and the hull seemed sinking countless fathoms.

Such a moment expands to an æon. Doom seemed an old acquaintance whena complex gyration, a sense of being flung through space, and areassertion of the engine's throb preceded the struggle to the surface.Yet it seemed as if no miracle of buoyancy and might could survive tillthe great steel body rose once more to the air. Men held their breathas if they must drown if the top were not immediately achieved.

A stupendous lurch, an incredible list to starboard, another streamingby of immeasurable torrents, and the steamer wallowed pantingly outinto daylight once again, to flounder like a thing exhausted till shesteadied once more to the roll and pitch of the former storm-driven sea.

There had been no time for any man to act till the monstrous thing hadcome and gone its way. As helplessly as all the others, Grenville hadclutched at the table, there beside Elaine, while death passed androared in their faces. He had gone to her chiefly for appearances, yetquite as if nothing had happened, despite their scene above, whileElaine had issued from her stateroom in terror of the storm. It wasnot till new, sharp sounds of activity broke on his senses, from above,that Sid left her side and went to inquire concerning the sum of theirdamage.

His face had lost a shade only of its usual cheerfulness, when hefinally returned. The ship was rolling heavily, fairly in the trough.

"Our rudder is gone, with six of the lifeboats and as many men," hetold his charge, whose courage he had previously gauged. "The worst isundoubtedly over. We can steer with the screws, sufficiently to makethe nearest port."

"Our rudder!—half a dozen men," Elaine faintly echoed, her brown eyesablaze with dread and sympathy, as she steadied from the shock ofGrenville's news. "What was it? How did it happen?"

"A tidal wave. There must have been a huge volcanic disturbance,doubtless under the sea. Or it may have been an earthquake,tremendously violent. Nothing else, according to the Captain, couldaccount for a storm so sudden, or for all this strange thickness of theair. He is confident now of our safety. The storm may subside in anhour."

There was not the slightest cessation of the storm, however, till eighto'clock in the evening. Even then the night continued thick and wild.

Fortunately the sea was vast and deep. There was nothing known in twohundred miles on which the ship could blunder. Hour after hour thecrippled "Inca" limped erratically onward, buffeted helplessly here andthere, and scalloping angry abysses of darkness and water, as first onescrew and then the other was driven full speed, or slowed to half, orreversed altogether, to hold her nose to the altered course that wouldfinally fetch them to a port for highly essential repairs.

The rage of the elements, abating at last a trifle, had far exceededthe Captain's expectations. And when at length the center was passed,and comparative ease had supervened, the wind was still a considerablegale, while the sea would run high till nearly morning.

The passengers, however, were sufficiently assured to retire at afairly early hour. Elaine had readily responded to Grenville'smatter-of-fact instructions, and, long before midnight, was fitfullysleeping, although she had not undressed.

When eight bells struck from the bridge somewhere above him, Grenvillestill sat on the edge of his berth, rumpling his hair with one vigoroushand, while the other prisoned a book on his knee with a piece of whitepaper upon it. The paper was literally covered with mechanical designsand hieroglyphics, involved in his latest problem.

He arose at last, removed his coat, and began to fumble with his tie.His eyes were fixed upon his paper. The problem's spell was cast againupon him. He sank, as before, to his inconvenient seat, and drew yetanother design.

How long he remained there, tranced by the lines that representedlevers, gears, and eccentrics, the man could never have stated. He wasdimly subconscious it was time to go to bed, and from time to time onehand would return to his collar. As a matter of fact, the hour waspast one of the morning.

Then, of a sudden, apparently beneath his very feet, the frightfulthing occurred.

It came all together—the grinding crunch, the colossal upheaval of theship's great belly full of vitals, the scream of iron ripped from iron,the roar of steam from broken pipes, and the tremor of death-throes,shuddering thus promptly down to the canted bow and stern from thewedge-shaped split amidships.

They had struck on a rock, upheaved by the earthquake, where a hundredfathoms of crystal brine had existed the previous noon!

The hideous conviction of doom and horror sped as swiftly as the shiverof destruction to the farthest confines of the vessel. Screams far andnear, hoarse bellowing, a shrill, high pæan of mortal fright, andsounds of disordered scurrying followed with a promptness fairlyappalling.

Grenville waited for nothing. As well as the most experienced officeron board, he realized the significance of the impact, the ship's awfulbuckling, and the quiver stilling the creature's heart—the enginesthat had ceased at once to throb.

His door had been flung widely open. Before he could reach the turningof the corridor, the one electric bulb, left glowing for the night,abruptly blackened. But he knew the way to Elaine.

He seemed to be plunging through a torture hall, so hurtling full wasthe darkness of fearful cries and confusion. The broken hulk of thesteamer slightly lurched, as the plates broke yet farther apart.Sidney was flung against a cabin wall, but he righted and pitched morerapidly down the already canted passage.

"Elaine!" he called. "Elaine!"

"Yes!" she answered. "Yes! I can't get out!" She was not at all in apanic.

Someone, a man, rushed headlong by and nearly bowled Grenville over.He was spilling golf clubs from a bag and calling for the steward.

Grenville caught at the knob of Elaine's hard-fastened door and threwhis weight upon it. A stubborn resistance met his effort. The framehad been distorted by the splitting of plates and ribs. The wedgingwas complete.

"Stand back!" he called out sharply. "I must break it in at once!"

He knew they were late already—that swarms of beings, nearer theexits, were wildly pouring from the ship's interior, to be first to theboats, so fatally reduced in numbers.

With all his might he hurled his shoulder against the door, that merelycreaked at his impotent assault. The hall was narrow. He could gainno momentum for his blow. The second and third attack made noimpression.

A clammy sweat exuded from his forehead. That the sea was tumblingtorrentially into the helpless vessel he knew by countless indications.Elaine must perish helplessly in her trap, could he not immediatelyforce the barrier. He suddenly got down, full length, upon the floor,braced his shoulders against the opposite cabin, and, with kneesslightly raised, placed both his feet against the door. Then hestrained with superhuman strength. The door remained immovable, butit* paneling slightly cracked.

Meantime the shrieks, the shouts, the roaring of steam, and theterrible chaos of destruction had increased to a horrifying chorus.The corridor was filling with hot, moist vapor from the burst pipes. Adozen stokers had perished. Fire had attacked a portion of the vesselabaft the midships section.

Once more, with a wild, fanatic conjuring of energy, Grenville spenthimself upon the door—and a panel snapped out, flinging littlesplinters on Elaine. In a fury of desperate activity the man on thefloor beat out more with his driving feet.

"It's large enough! It's large enough!" cried the girl as the orificewidened. "Don't wait to break it larger!"

She was now fully dressed, having swiftly prepared for any sort ofemergency. A candle, provided from her bag, was glowing in her hand.

This she thrust forth for Grenville to take, and then, with deliberatecare, she wormed her way out through the jagged hole with the confidentskill of a child.

"Not there!" called Grenville, as she hastened ahead to gain theforward companionway. "Everybody's there, all fighting for theirlives!"

He caught her actively about the waist, as a further lurch and settlingof the "Inca" would have hurled her to the floor. Down through ashorter passage and up a strangely tilted stair he drew her rapidly,his heart assailed by a sickening fear of what their delay might havecost them. Yet less than five minutes had actually passed since thefirst vast shock of disaster.

They emerged to a portion of the slanted deck that seemed to be utterlydeserted. A gust of wind blew out the candle. The sky was clear. Anuneven fragment of the aging moon shone dully on the broken ship,whence fearful sounds continued to arise.

Only one of the boats had been dropped to the tide—to be instantlywhirled inside the parting steamer, on the torrent filling her mightybelly, where the latest lurch had laid her widely open.

Grenville ran to the starboard rail for a glance towards the strugglefarther forward. There, about the impotent crew, laboring hotly withpeople, boats and davits no longer adjusted to normal working order,the wildest confusion existed.

A boat that hung out above the sea was filled with screaming beings.Some madman arose and slashed with maniacal fury at the rope of theblocks, to hasten the craft's descent. Of a sudden its bow shotperpendicularly downward, its stern still high in the air. Its cargodropped out like leaden weights, while the empty shell, like apendulum, swayed to and fro above the smothered cries.

To join such a throng would be but to choose a larger company in whichto perish. Grenville saw that the steamer must presently drop from herrock and sound illimitable depths. This could hardly be delayed formore than ten minutes longer.

A sickening qualm assailed his vitals at the thought of Elaine, doomedto drown thus helplessly, along with himself and the others. He knewthat not only were the boats insufficient, but there was no time leftto load and launch them!

Then, at length, he remembered the life-raft on the roof. Once more,with his arm supporting Elaine, he clambered up a tilted stairway. Theplace was deserted. The raft was there—but securely fastened to theplanking, fore and aft and at the sides! The ropes that bound it downwere thick and doubled!

With his knife the man attacked them desperately. The blade broke outof the handle when one strand only had been severed. His second bladewas small and useless for such a labor.

He groaned, for a ghastly tremor was seizing the "Inca" as she hungabove some crumbling abyss for a final plunge to the bottom. Then themoonlight gleamed on the carpenter's adze, which had slid down the deckto the railing. He darted upon it like an animal, and, hastening back,swung it with swift and savage blows that severed the ropes like cheese.

"Quick! Quick!" he shouted to Elaine, as he flung the implement fromhim; and, catching her roughly about the waist, he bore her facedownward beside himself, full length upon the raft.

It was already slightly in motion, where the ship was toppling to hergrave!

CHAPTER IV

THE NIGHT—AND MORNING

With a rattle and scraping along the deck, the device with the twoprone figures desperately clinging to its surface, was halted andtilted nearly level as it struck a spar and partially mounted upon it.

A sudden glare lit up the scene where the fire had burst throughshattered windows. Screams yet more appalling than those alreadypiercing the gale arose with the movement of the vessel. A picturegrotesque and monstrous was for one awful moment presented. The hugeiron entrails of the vessel heaved up into sight with her breaking.Her funnels, masts, and superstructure pointed outward, strangelyhorizontal. Innumerable loose things rattled down the decks. Shebelched forth flame and clouds of steam, against which one huge ironrib, rudely torn on its end to the semblance of a giant finger, seemedpointing the way to inscrutable eternity.

The lantern, up at the "Inca's" masthead, describing an arc as it sweptacross the heavens, was the last thing Grenville noted. He thought howinsignificantly it would sizzle in the sea! Then he and Elaine, withraft and all, were flung far out, by the suddenly accelerated velocityof the doomed leviathan, turning keel upwards as it sank. When theystruck, their puny float dived under like a crockery platter, shiedfrom some Titanic hand.

With all his strength the man clung fast to Elaine and the lattice-likeplanking of their deck. It seemed to Grenville, still submerged, hecould never resist the force of the waves to wash them backwards todeath. It appeared, moreover, the raft would never return to the top.A million bubbles broke about his ears. He felt they were diving todeeps illimitable.

With a rush of waters drumming on their senses, it shot precipitatelyupward at last, till air and spray greeted them together. Then, suckeddeep under, anew, and backward, by the gurgling vortex where the shiphad gone, and swirling about, pivoting wildly, as the raft nowthreatened to plunge edge downward to the nethermost caverns of thehungry sea, they met a counter-violence that forced it once moretowards the surface.

The boilers had burst in the steamer's hold, with confusion to allthose tides of suction. Erratically diving here and there, a helplessprey to chaotic cross currents in all directions, the float swunggiddily in the mid abyss, while the water walls baffled one another.

Elaine, even more than Grenville, was bursting with explosive breathwhen, at length, the raft came twisting once more to the chill, sweetregion of the gale. And even then strong currents drew it fiercely intheir wake before it rode freely on the waters.

Dripping and gasping, Grenville half rose to scan the troubled billowsfor companions in distress. Not a sound could he hear, save the swashof the waves. Not a light appeared in all that void, save the distant,indifferent stars.

Elaine, too, stirred, and raised herself up to a posture half sitting.She was hatless. Her hair was streaming down across her face andshoulders in strands too wet for the wind to ravel. Her eyes wereblazing wildly.

"The ship?" she said. "What happened?"

"Sunk." He stood up. Their platform was steadying buoyantly as itdrifted in the breeze. "I can't even see the spot," he added,presently. "We couldn't propel this raft to the place, no matter whomight be floating."

"It's terrible!" she whispered, faintly, as one afraid to accuse theFates aloud. "Couldn't we even—— You think they are all—all gone?"

"I'll shout," said Grenville, merely to humor the pity in her breast.His long, loud "Halloo" rolled weirdly out across the wolf-like pack ofwaves, three—four—a half dozen times.

There was not the feeblest murmur of response. Yet he felt that,perhaps, one boatload at least might have sped away in safety.

"God help them!" he said, when the silence became once moreinsupportable. "He only knows where any of us are!"

"After all we'd been through!" she shivered in awe. "If only we twowere really saved—— Oh, there must be land, somewhere about, if theCaptain was trying to reach a port! But, of course, this isn't even aboat, and, perhaps, it will finally sink!"

He tried to summon an accent of hope to his voice.

"Oh, no; it will float indefinitely. It's sure to turn up somewhere inthe end."

"We haven't food—or even water," she answered him, understandingly."What shall we do to-morrow?"

"We are drifting rapidly northward. We may arrive somewhere byto-morrow.... You'd better sit down. It taxes your strength to stand."

"God help us all!" she suddenly prayed in a broken voice, and, sinkinglower where she sat, was shaken by one convulsion of sobbing, in pityfor all she had seen. She had no thoughts left for their earlier,personal encounter.

For a time Grenville stood there, braced to take the motion of theraft. The wind continued brisk and undiminished. Aided by tides,which had turned an hour earlier, to flow in its general direction, itdrove the raft steadily onward over miles of gray, unresting sea.

The water slopped up between the slats whereon Elaine was sitting. Shewas cold, despite the tropic latitude. She was hopeful, only becauseshe wished to contribute no unnecessary worry to the man.

Grenville at length sat down at her side, but they made no effort toconverse. Elaine was exhausted by the sickening strain and the shockof that tragic end. For an hour or more she sat there limply, beingconstantly wet by the waves. She attempted, finally, to curl herselfdown and make a pillow of her arm, and there she sank into somethingakin to sleep.

Gently Grenville thrust out his foot and lifted her head upon thecushion of flesh above his ankle. The night wore slowly on. Threeo'clock came grayly over the world-edge, where the waves made ascalloped horizon.

Slowly the watery universe expanded, as the dawn-light palelyincreased. By four Grenville's gaze could search all the round of theocean, but nothing broke either sky or sea.

Five o'clock developed merely color on the water, but no sign of a sailor a funnel. Elaine still slept, while Grenville, cramped almostbeyond endurance, refused to move, and thereby disturb her slumber.

But at six, as he turned for the fiftieth time to scan the limitedhorizon, he started so unwittingly, at sight of a tree and headland,flatly erected, like a bit of sawed-out stage scenery, above the wasteof billows, that Elaine sat up at once.

"It's land!" he said. "We're drifting to some sort of land!"

She was still too hazy in her mind, and puzzled by their surroundings,to grasp the situation promptly.

"Land?" she repeated. "Oh!" and a rush of hideous memories sweptconfusedly upon her till she shivered, gazing at the water.

Grenville had risen to his feet, and Elaine now rose beside him.Somewhat more of the flat, wide protrusion from the sea became thusvisible to both. It still appeared of insignificant extent, a blue andfeatureless patch against the sky, with one half-stripped tree upon itssummit.

"I should say it's an island," Grenville added, quietly, restraining anexultation that might prove premature. "It is still some miles away."

"There must be someone there," Elaine replied, with an eagerness thatbetrayed her anxious state of mind. "Almost anyone would certainlyhelp us a little."

What doubts he entertained of some of the island inhabitants in thisparticular section of the world, Sidney chose to keep to himself.

"It's land!" he said, as he had before. "That means everything!"

"Do you know of any island that ought to be in this locality?"

"I haven't the remotest notion where we are—except we are somewhere,broadly speaking, in the neighborhood of the Malay peninsula. Thesteamer must have drifted tremendously out of her course after we lostour rudder."

"Have you been awake for long?"

"I haven't slept."

"Have you seen or heard anything of any of the others?"

"Not a sign.... We may find some of them, landed on this island."

He had no such hope, and this she felt. She summoned a heart full ofcourage to meet the situation, however, and gazed off afar at the mistyterra incognita enlarging imperceptibly as they drifted deliberatelyonward.

"It's fortunate," she said, "the steamers pass this way."

"Yes," he said, unwilling to shake this solitary hope that brightenedher uncertain prospect, but he knew they were leagues from the nearesttrack that the ocean steamers plowed. "And I trust we'll find itentirely comfortable while we're waiting," he added. "We're sure toget dry and find something fit to eat."

She was silent for a moment. A sense of constraint was returning atlast for their scene of the previous day. "It seems to be rather faraway," was all she said.

"About another hour—if the breeze and tide continue favorable."

It was nearer an hour and a half, however, before they were finallyabreast the headland with the tree, and swinging and turning slowly bythe island's coast on the surface of a complicated tide.

The features of the land had developed practically everything usual tothis latitude except habitations of men. That it was entirelysurrounded by water was convincingly established. Indeed, it was notan extensive outcrop of some ocean-buried range, and, despite theluxuriance of its various patches of greenery and jungle, it wasdecidedly rugged in formation.

The edge past which the raft was leisurely floating was a broken andcavern-pitted wall of rock affording no promise of a landing. Abovethis loomed the solitary tree that Grenville had seen from a distance.Nothing suggestive of hearth smoke arose against the sky from one endof the place to the other.

This one vital fact, in her excitement, Elaine entirely overlooked.She likewise failed to note the look of concern that Grenville couldnot have banished from his eyes. The prospect of reaching a dry, firmsoil outweighed her immediate worries.

"Couldn't we paddle in closer?" she said. "Where do you mean to land?"

"Where the Fates shall please," he answered, grimly. "Without even aline for me to take ashore we must not be over fastidious."

"We could swim—if we have to," she told him, bravely. "We seem to befloating farther out."

They were, at that particular moment. The powerful current carriedthem swiftly seaward a considerable distance, till at length the raftwas drawn to a species of whirlpool, some two hundred yards indiameter, the inner rim of which was depositing weed at the edge ofsomething like an estuary, indenting the shore of the island.

On the huge circumference of this whirlpool they were finally roundingtowards the one bit of beach that Grenville had been able to discover.Yet when they approached within almost touching distance of this sunlitstrand, the current failed, permitting the breeze to waft them againtowards the center.

"Stand by to go ashore," said Grenville, resolving suddenly on hiscourse, and overboard he slipped, at the float's outer edge, and, usinghis legs like a powerful frog, he pushed at the raft with sufficientforce to overcome the action of the wind.

For a moment his efforts seemed in vain—and then the clumsy affairnosed reluctantly shoreward an inch, and was once more assisted by thetide. Ten feet out he found the water shallow and, planting his feeton the solid sand, drove the raft at once to the estuary's edge, whereElaine leaped lightly ashore.

Some startled creature slipped abruptly into the pool that the tinyharbor formed. This escaped Elaine's attention. A moment later theraft rode scrapingly over a bar that all but locked the inlet, andGrenville stood dripping on the sand.

"Welcome to our city," said he, an irrepressible emotion of joyousnessand relief possessing him completely at the moment, and, going at onceto the near-by growth, where a long stout limb had been broken from atree, he dragged this severed member forth to the beach and across theestuary's mouth, where it effectually blocked the channel against theraft's escape. Then he folded a couple of large-sized leaves with hishands, secured each with a slender twig, and, giving one to Elaine fora cap, placed the other upon his head.

Elaine was no less relieved than he, so elastic and buoyant is youth.

"The villages must be on the farther side," she said. "What languagedo you suppose the natives speak?"

"Well—doubtless some Simian, in any case," he answered, having fanciedone movement half seen in the trees beyond was made by an ape or amonkey. "I'd suggest you recall your fondness for fruit for breakfast."

She comprehended his meaning with amazing promptness. Her face took onits serious expression.

"You don't believe we shall find the island inhabited? We shall haveonly fruit this morning?"

"I am sure we shall find some fruit," he said, "and we must certainlylook for water."

A sense of helplessness and despair attacked Elaine momentarily. Shebegan to wonder, with alarm, how long they might be stranded on theplace—and what attitude Grenville might assume. She had thoroughlycomprehended the passion of his nature in the outburst she had seen. Asense of distrust she dared not show came creeping to her mind.

"We must make the best of it, of course," she said, as calmly aspossible. "We can't even light a fire, I suppose."

"I certainly have no matches," he answered, cheerfully. "All I hadwere in my coat. Suppose we explore the island first and leave despairtill after breakfast."

She met his gaze with fearless eyes that set his heart to pounding.

"I shall never despair," she answered, more bravely than she felt,—"atleast, I shall try to do my part, till we are taken off."

He understood the challenge in her attitude.

"I felt that from the first," he answered, easily. "Perhaps we'dbetter begin by climbing up to the headland."

He caught up a short, heavy stick and turned about to force a way upthrough the rocks and tangled growth between the shore and summit.

And what a figure he presented—even to the frightened girl, whoseanger still lingered in her veins—stripped, as he was, to hisshirtsleeves, a powerful, active being, masterful and unafraid. With astrange, dreadful sense of isolation and the primitive, aye, evenprimal, conditions in which they had been cast, she followed helplesslyat his heels for their first real look at the island.

CHAPTER V

THE ISLAND

The ascent was steep and difficult, so unbroken was the undergrowth,except where jagged and pitted rocks rose grayly on the slope.Bananas, nut palms, and mangoes Grenville promptly noted. Indeed,every tropical tree, shrub, and fruit of which he had ever learned wasrepresented in the thicket, together with long, snake-like creepers,huge ferns, and many plants with which he had no acquaintance.

There was abundant life in all directions. Here, with a grunt, andbeyond with a bound of startled surprise, some animal scuttled to coverin alarm at their approach. A small flock of parrots abruptly arose,flashing their brilliant plumage in the sunlight and screamingraucously. Half a dozen leeches, clinging firmly to the fat, greenleaves next the ground, where all was moist and shaded, attractedGrenville's notice as they lifted their heads and groped about forflesh upon which to fasten.

Here and there in the tree tops a monkey obscured a patch of sky for amoment and chattered or squeaked a warning to his kind. Grenville,almost wholly convinced that man seldom or never visited the place, andpuzzled to account for a fact so extraordinary, now emerged at the edgeof a natural clearing and promptly discovered a small patch of sugarcane, reared above the grass and vines. He was certain that man hadbrought it to the island.

A half minute later he underwent a decidedly complex set of emotions.He was barely five feet ahead of Elaine, who was following blindly inhis trail, a prey to new dreads of all the sounds about them, when hehalted in a tense and rigid attitude of alertness. Elaine glancedquickly ahead.

Apparently a patch of orange sunlight was lifting from the grass. ThenElaine, too, saw the black, irregular stripes, the huge, topaz eyes,and the lazy movement of a mighty shoulder muscle, as the beast beforethem arose and blocked their path.

It was not the fact that he had rarely if ever seen a tiger so largethat most impressed the man, thus unexpectedly confronted by thisunfrightened monarch of the island—the brute bore a collar about hisneck, gleaming with gold and the facets of some sort of jewels!

He had obviously once been a captive! He knew the form of man, if nothis nature!

For a moment or more there was absolute stillness in that grassy arena,where two world-old enemies stood face to face in their first,preliminary contest of courage. A certain arrogance, a contempt of allpossible adversaries, here in his undisputed realm, shone unmistakablyin the eyes of the motionless brute. His paunch was roundedsignificantly. He had recently dined.

Grenville could think of but one thing to do, unarmed as he was, andunwilling to compromise an encounter so vitally important.

He let out a shout such as a demon might have uttered, and, rushingmadly forward, with his club upraised, yelled again and again, hisaspect one to strike terror to the heart of a giant. He was almostupon the astonished tiger when the brute abruptly fled. The roar thegreat beast delivered, as he bounded from sight in the jungle, was thesullen note of a creature that obeys, reluctantly, the command of onesuperior to himself.

"Now, then, a little discretionary haste," said Grenville, quicklyreturning to Elaine. "I prefer the top of the rocks."

But she did not move, so helpless was her will and so rigid all herbeing. Once more, with his arm about her waist, Sidney firmly urgedher forward, on a beaten trail he took no time to study.

It led in a tortuous manner up the last steep acclivity, where, withevery rod, the growth became less luxuriant, and the rocks more thicklystrewn. Thus they presently came upon a second natural clearing, asort of uneven terrace, some fifty feet lower than the dominatingheadland crowned by the solitary tree.

The trail to this final eminence was plainly scored along a narrow,crumbling ledge, where the volcanic tufa, comprising the ancientupheaval, had for years disintegrated in a honeycomb fashion that leftall the bowlders and even the walls deeply pitted.

When they turned about together on this dominating mount, the islandlay mapped irregularly beneath them in the purple sea, revealedwell-nigh in its entirety.

In all its expanse there was not a sign of a human habitation.

They knew, without a word of argument, they were absolutely alone onthis tropic crumb of empire, sole survivors of the frightful wreck,completely ignorant of their whereabouts, and surrounded not only bysavage and inimical jungle brutes, but also by some mystery that wasnot to be understood.

"Well," said Grenville, presently, "such as it is, it's ours."

"Ours," said Elaine. A cold little shiver ran along her nerves, atthoughts of her plight between the man she had called a brute, and thestill more savage creatures of the jungle. "Where are you going?" sheadded, as Grenville moved away.

"To look about for a moment," he replied, "and then I must pick somebreakfast."

The examination of the hilltop was promptly concluded. It proved to bea flat, uneven plateau of small dimensions, with precipitous walls onevery side, except where the trail led downward. Much loose rock wasscattered on its surface. Three-quarters of its boundary roseperpendicularly out of the sea. The remainder plunged down into junglegreenery, and the natural clearing that lay between two dense, rankgrowths on either side. Not far from the center of the table-rock afair-sized cave, that bore unmistakable signs of former occupancy andfires once ignited on its floor, afforded a highly acceptable shelter,both from the sun and the elements. It occupied, of course, a positionthat could be readily and easily defended.

There were other, smaller caverns close at hand, but none with a wholeor unpierced roof. Fragments of broken clay utensils lay scatteredabout, together with the whitening bones of small-sized animals thathad one time served some denizens for food. There was nothing in orabout the principal cave of which Grenville could make the slightestuse.

The view of the island from this point of vantage was not particularlyencouraging. Midway of its rugged bulk, that jutted from the azuretides, and on the side directly opposite the estuary, another wall ofrock loomed, gray and barren, above the tops of the trees. Behindthis, at the island's farthest, left-hand extremity, a third"intrusion" of volcanic stuff rose to a height only barely lower thanthis whereon the raftmates stood. It was not, however, flat.

A portion only of the estuary was visible—the outer bay, where theraft was plainly floating. Save for areas covered with rock and brushtogether, the remaining surface of the island appeared to be thicklygrown to jungle, the forest comprising foliage of infinite variety.

With Elaine walking silently at his side, afraid to be with him, yetmore afraid to be alone, Grenville passed from this hasty examinationof the island's general topography to a closer inspection of theperpendicular scarp of the terrace. On the seaward side it rose aboutone hundred feet above the mark of high water. Its right frontappeared to overhang its base, a reassuring distance above the highesttree. Across its entire bulk at this place the cliff had once beencracked, and a "slip" had formed a ragged shelf. Then came the slopewhere the trail was worn, beyond which forty feet or more of unscalabletufa was reared above a section of the jungle once devastated by fire.

In the midst of this section, being rapidly reclaimed by vines andcreepers, stood the shell of a huge old tree, the heart of which hadbeen consumed, from the roots to its blackened top, leaving walls stillthick and solid.

"Well," said Sidney, returning again to the principal cave, which hereinspected critically, "it doesn't take long to overlook ourpossessions. You'd better begin to make yourself at home, while I gobelow for fodder," and, taking up his club from a ledge where he hadlet it fall, he went at once down the long-abandoned trail and outacross the clearing.

Elaine had followed to the scarp, where she watched till hedisappeared. How helpless she was in the hands of this man, whosedeclaration and deeds had so aroused her indignation and hatred, shethoroughly understood. A sickening conviction that days might elapsebefore she could hope to escape, increased her sense, not only ofalarm, but also of distrust in Grenville. His action in taking up hisstick had not escaped her attention. Strangely enough, a horrible pangwent straight to her breast as she suddenly thought of that tigeragain—and of what it might mean if Grenville never returned. Whateverelse might happen, nothing could be so terrible as to perish herealone. She tried to assure herself, however, that Grenville wasthoroughly competent to cope with the dangers of the place.

Yet the silence of the jungle where she had seen him disappear,oppressed her unendurably. Not even a tree was shaken, to indicatewhere he had gone. Summoning all her resolution, she returned to thecavern, alone.

A slab of rock, once doubtless employed for a table, lay with one endresting on the earth, while the other leaned upon a second rock,against the wall of the cave. She lifted this slab to a second prop,then blew the last fragment of dust and sand from its surface, by wayof preparing it for breakfast. She looked about, longing for furtheremployment, but, inasmuch as two rude fragments of the rock alreadyreposed beside her table for seats, there was absolutely nothing moreshe could add, either by way of utensils or furnishings, from theboulders scattered loosely on the terrace.

When she thought of leaves, whereon to serve what fruits the junglemight surrender, she started briskly for the trail—but halted at itssummit. A horror of unknown things that might be lurking at thethicket's edge impressed itself upon her. Nevertheless, she shook itoff, and, descending rapidly, soon filled her arms with large, clean"platters" from a rankly growing plant of the "elephant's ear" variety,then clambered back to her aerie.

Two of the leaves she dropped at the bend of the trail and left themthere in the sun. Twice after that she returned to the edge, to searchall the greenery for Grenville. Her uneasiness respecting his longabsence was rapidly increasing when she turned once more toward thecave. He emerged at that moment from the farther thicket of theclearing, came unobserved to the winding trail, and discovered theleaves she had abandoned.

He was amazingly "loaded" with similar leaves for breakfast purposes,as well as with fruits, and a singular bowl of water, yet he paused,with a smile upon his lips, to discard every leaf he had provided, inorder that Elaine's thoughtful effort at assistance might not be in theleast belittled.

She met him just as he came to the top, and began to take a portion ofhis burden.

"Oh," she said, "you've found water—or is it the juice of the melon?"

"Water," he answered, moving towards the cave. "The bowl is half of apaw-paw, which, next to that spring itself, is the welcomest thing I'vediscovered."

She was glad to note bananas among his several fruits, but she made nofurther observations. More and more her sense of constraint increased,as she clearly foresaw her dependence upon and intimate associationwith this man, who had overstepped the bounds of honor to his friend,and to whom she had spoken in such anger.

Breakfast was soon begun. Elaine consumed all she could relish of thefruits, although neither the loco (loquet, a yellowish sort of plum),the guava—green and full of seeds—nor the custard apple, which wassomewhat sickishly sweet, appealed irresistibly to her fancy.

She drank from a leaf, curled up to form a cup, and found the waterdecidedly refreshing and agreeable, despite the fact it was slightlyflavored by the juices of the paw-paw shell in which it had been served.

Grenville leaned back, when his appetite was thoroughly appeased, andbegan to empty his pockets. He produced the remains of his brokenknife, a few loose coins, a ring of keys, a pig-skin purse with severalpieces of gold as its contents, the stub of a pencil, and his watch,which, by great good fortune, was waterproof, and still in good runningcondition, despite its several immersions.

Elaine was watching his movements, puzzled to guess his intent.

"Taking stock," he said, presently, "by way of facing the situation andformulating plans.... These trifling chattels are all I possess in theworld—our world, at least—with which to begin certain labors. Youprobably haven't even hairpins."

Elaine had coiled her hair upon a twig. She shook her head, andfaintly resented his allusion to the island as a sort of partnershipproperty.

Grenville began to segregate his belongings.

"Money, keys, pencil, and watch—all mere encumbrances, absolutelyworthless. One broken knife—invaluable. We shall require, as soon aspossible, water-jugs, basins, cooking utensils, something to make afire, implements to chop our fuel, some primitive weapons, and toolswith which to fashion a boat. I must lose no time in exploring beyondthe spring. I have found nothing yet that will especially lend itselfto our uses."

Elaine's brown eyes were very wide. "You expect to remain here longenough to build a boat, when the raft—— I know it can't be rowed, ofcourse, but—couldn't you try a sail?"

"We couldn't sail it in its present form," he answered, "even if weknew which direction to take when we started. With a small, swift boatwe might venture a few explorations from the island as a base."

She was silent for a moment, and grave.

"You haven't much faith, then, in hailing some passing steamer?"

"I think it wiser to prepare against a probable wait that may be ratherlong." He read and understood her impatience with the situation—asituation rendered infinitely more complicated and delicate by what hehad dared to say and do the previous afternoon.

Once more black dreads that she dared not permit to reveal themselvescompletely arose to engulf her mind. She could not doubt thatGrenville knew, far better than herself, how meager were their hopes ofimmediate rescue or escape from this exile in the sea. More thananything else, however, she wished to be worthy of and loyal to the manto whom her plighted word had been given. That she owed so much toGrenville already was an added irritation. A braver, finer spirit thanshe summoned to her needs never rose in a woman's breast.

Her eyes met his with a cold look of resolution in their depths.

"I know you will show me how to help. I must do my share ineverything. Can you tell how long it must have been since anyone washere?"

Grenville had never thought her finer—never loved her so madly before.Yet he quelled the merry demons of his nature.

"No," he replied, as he took in his hand a bit of bone, bleachedcleanly white. "I can't even understand why an island so abundantlysupplied with fruits and game, to say nothing of useful woods and thelike, should be so utterly abandoned. There seems to be nothing wrongwith the place, and much that is quite in its favor."

"Perhaps that tiger," she suggested.

Sidney shook his head. "It's something that goes a bit deeper—atleast, there may once have been something sinister. The natives of allthis part of the world are rather accustomed to tigers."

Her sense of divination was exceedingly keen.

"You think there is something worse? You haven't already encounteredsomething more——"

"Nothing," he hastened to interrupt. "The problem of our dailyexistence affords our greatest present cause for concern—and I franklyadmit I considerably relish the prospect of proving we are equal to allthat our situation may demand."

She was not to be satisfied so readily.

"But there may be something wrong with the island?"

"Possibly—from a native's point of view."

"But—you are almost certain to meet that tiger again."

"All the more reason for getting to work at once." He arose in hisquick, active manner, and once more surveyed their camp.

"A few rocks piled in your doorway," he continued, "and your cave willmeet your requirements admirably. I should say mine would better bethis small retreat, the roof of which I can readily restore. It isclose enough to be neighborly, and is nearer the head of the trail."

The smaller cave thus indicated occupied a position suggestive of asentry's box, before precincts to be guarded. Its opening faced thegateway of the trail, while its size was sufficient for the needs ofany primitive man.

Elaine, who had mechanically followed Grenville from the shelter,looked resignedly about. She had failed till now to think, concretely,of actually remaining, perhaps night after night, in such a place.

"It was terrible!" she said, "—the accident—everything!—terrible!"She suddenly thought of the threat he had made—to compel her to lovehim as he loved her, before they should reach their home—and shiveredanew at the unforeseen predicament in which she was plunged, and hatedhim more than before.

"Bad business," he answered, briefly, "but at present the task beforeus is to cut a lot of grass and strew it about on the rocks to dry."

He opened the stubby blade of his knife, glanced at it ruefully, and,selecting a bit of stone, began to whet its edge. But he halted theaction abruptly.

A low, weird sound, like a human wail, came from somewhere over behindthem.

CHAPTER VI

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES

The sound had no sooner died on the air than a second, far louder, andfar more uncanny in its suggestiveness of someone in mortal pain,followed piercingly, up around the rock, and rang in their startledears.

The third sound more resembled a scream. It was immediately succeededby a chorus of hideous cries and moans, singularly distressing. Theyrose to a pitch incredible; they seemed to involve every accent ofhuman grief and torture, and to wrap the rock escarpment completely inan agonizing appeal.

This chorus sank, but a haunting solo of wailing arose as before, to befollowed again by the air-splitting scream, and at length once more bythe mingling of many dreadful voices.

The island exiles glanced at one another inquiringly, Elaine blanchedwhite with awe.

"By Heavens!—it can't be human," Grenville muttered, as the programmerecommenced with only a slight variation.

To Elaine's dismay he started for the cliff.

"Mr. Grenville!" she cried, and helplessly followed where he went.

The wail was dying, in a horrid series of feebler repetitions, whenGrenville came to the edge of the wall and peered down below at thewater.

There was absolutely nothing to be seen in any direction. The direfulsounds, fast progressing once more to that nerve-destroying climax,appeared to issue from a natural cove, a little along to the left.

Grenville continued around the edge, to a point directly above them.But here, as before, there was nothing in all the sea suggestive ofboats or beings. The tide, Grenville thought, ran in and out withparticular force, reversing at a certain point, and performing singularmovements in a basin of hollowed stone.

Elaine had paused behind him, a rod or more from the brink. He waiteddeliberately for all the cycle of sounds to be repeated, then turnedaway with a smile.

"I think we have come upon the explanation of the island's uninhabitedcondition," he informed the girl, as he came once more to her side."Those noises are made by the sea, forcing air to some cavern in thecliffs. It is doubtless repeated twice a day at a certain stage of thetide."

"It's horrible!" Elaine replied in dread, as a feebler rehearsal of thechorus filled all that tropic breeze, "simply horrible!"

"It may be our greatest bit of good fortune," Grenville informed her,sagely. "I much prefer those sirens to a colony of Dyaks who mightotherwise live on the place."

"We shall have to endure it twice a day?"

"Possibly not. I may be entirely mistaken, concerning that. I canonly be certain it is caused by the tide, and is, therefore, not to bedreaded."

For fully ten minutes, however, the tidal conditions were favorable tothe sound's continuance. It subsided by degrees, the last moaningnotes possibly more suggestive than the first of beings perishingmiserably.

Meantime Grenville had gone indifferently about the business of cuttinghuge armfuls of the tall grass and ferns abundantly supplied in theclearing. This moist and not unfragrant material Elaine in silenthelpfulness carried to the top of the terrace, where she spread itabout on the rocks. She was certain Grenville was providing far morethan they could use in reason, yet although his stubby knife-blade wasa poor tool, indeed, for the business, he toiled away unsparingly,blithesomely whistling at his task.

"You may be glad by nightfall to burrow into a stack of this hay," hetold Elaine as he brought the last load up the trail. "If you wouldn'tmind turning it over from time to time I think I'll look about again toget an idea of the island."

Elaine had as little inclination to remain on the terrace alone, withall manner of worries respecting Grenville's safety, as she had tofollow where he would lead through the shades and thickets of thejungle. She was aware, however, her presence at his side would be moreof a care than assistance; while the necessity for his explorationsaddressed itself clearly to her mind. She made no confession of hernatural wish to see him returning promptly.

He departed, with his club in hand, quite certain he should not be goneabove an hour. He had not, however, reckoned with the jungle.

Despite the fact he had set his mind on the region about and beyond thespring, the flow of which formed the estuary, some wonder respectingthe area once blackened and cleared by fire attracted his attentionimmediately upon his descent from the hill.

Through a fringe of scrub he forced his way to this region close underthe walls, discovering old, charred stumps, many dead saplings, andquantities of half-consumed branches, affording a large supply of fuel.There could be no doubt the fire had raged within the previous year.Human visitors of some complexion had come, left this scar, anddeparted.

Hopeful of some enlightening sign as to who or what they might havebeen, he searched the earth about and between the shrubs and grasseswith considerable care. Not so much as a bone, however, rewarded hisscrutinizing gaze. He came to the tree trunk left hollow by theflames, and paused to marvel at its size. Above his head it was fourfeet through, while the base was certainly eight. An arch had beenformed in its substance, near the ground, and into this he curiouslypeered.

Kneeling thus on the earth, he was readily enabled to look straight upthrough and out at the top. The hollow in the stout old junglechampion was fully two feet in diameter, and almost perfectly round.There was nothing else of interest to be found about the place, save ahuge, smooth log, lying with one end resting on a rock, and long enoughto make a splendid boat.

Attempting the passage of the jungle from this point across to themidway wall of tufa, Grenville expended fully fifteen minutes of thetoughest sort of effort, and was then obliged to retreat once more tothe trail. He encountered here the first wild animal discovered sincehis meeting with the tiger.

It was a porcupine, bristling with trouble for any attacking beast.Grenville could have slain it with his club. He was fairly on thepoint of providing this much meat for the sadly empty larder, when thefact that he could ignite no fire deterred his ready weapon. Hethought, in that extremity, of his watch, the crystal of which mightserve to give him a white-hot spark from the sun.

Trusting the porcupine might await the result of his quick experiment,he lost no time in submitting the glass to a trial. It formed a ringof brilliant light on the back of his hand, but the rays would not cometo a focus.

"Go thy ways," he said to the porcupine, and he continued at once onhis own.

Observing the trail more closely than he had on his earlier excursion,he presently discovered a divergence to the left that led towards thecentral wall of stone. Here he frightened a considerable troop ofmonkeys that swung in a panic of activity through the avenues offoliage overhead. There were likewise sounds of heavier beasts thatescaped observation on the moist and thickly cumbered earth.

The trail under foot was rather well worn, and not, the man wascertain, by the hoofs or feet of brutes. The explanation was presentlyforthcoming, at least in part, for the path emerged at a clay pit thatlay against the frowning tower of stone.

Grenville could have shouted for joy as he took a bit of the smooth,sticky substance in his hand, and began thus promptly, in his fancy,making pots and jugs innumerable to meet their every need. The deposithad been previously worked. The evidence of this was unmistakable.But none of the tools employed by former craftsmen had been left forGrenville to discover.

He spent some time investigating all the mute signs of former activityexpended at the pit, and finally glancing up at the cliff above,abandoned all thought of conquering its summit, and retraced his stepsalong the trail.

Where the path to the spring made a second fork, he continued straighton through the jungle. One glance only of the estuary, tortuouslypenetrating the waist of the island, was vouchsafed him through thethicket. Beyond this point, in swampy ground, flourished a forest ofgiant bamboo. The creepers and vines in that immediate section wereparticularly varied and abundant. The bird life was equallyimpressive. Hundreds of swallows were skimming in the air, a number ofargus pheasants wildly fled from the visitor's presence, parrotsscreamed and wheeled in huge flocks above the light green bamboofoliage, and several fine flamingoes made shift to find concealment inthe reeds.

"It's a haunted paradise," Grenville muttered to himself, his thoughthaving gone for a moment to the wails and moans that had startledhimself and Elaine.

Regretting that his broken knife was a wholly inadequate implement withwhich to assail such a bamboo stem as he would gladly have taken to thecamp, he was once more making his way from the thicket when his footcrashed audibly through something brittle, on the earth.

He parted the shrubbery and uttered a low exclamation. He had steppedupon a human skeleton, white and suggestively huddled, every fragmentof it perfect—except that it lacked a head.

In a certain sort of anxiety Grenville searched about to find themissing member. The skull was not to be discovered. Persuadinghimself this might be accounted for by many natural explanations, andresolving to keep his discovery entirely to himself, he forced his wayaround this grewsome inhabitant—and came upon another.

This one he did not strike with either foot. It lay outstretchedbefore him, in company with scattered and broken bits of rock—and,like its neighbor, it was headless.

Had some monstrous head-hunter written "Dyaks" on all the empty latticeof those human ribs, Grenville could not have been more convinced ofwhat this business meant. He returned to the trail accompanied by asense of dread that all but sent him back to Elaine. His thought wasentirely of her, and of their helplessness, cast thus alone upon thisunpeopled island, clean stripped of weapons and of all things else savetheir wits and bodily strength.

"We've got to escape," he told himself in a new, swift fever ofimpatience. "There is not an hour to lose!"

He continued on through the jungle towards the hill at the farther end.

CHAPTER VII

A GREWSOME GUARDIAN

Apparently the trail, that had once been formed through the axis of theisland, had been found of little use. It was overgrown by all mannerof plants well-nigh to extinction.

The region hereabout was obviously the final retreat of many beasts,both timid and bold. Grenville found signs of at least one Malay bearand of many wild hogs in the thickets. He fancied he saw one flash ofmoving orange, where either his tiger or another of his ilk movedsilently through the growth behind him. Of the monkeys there appearedto be no end; and the snakes were amply represented.

He was glad for every clearing that he came upon and crossed, and felta decided sense of relief on achieving his hill at last. This worn oldeminence of rock and substances volcanic was far more steep and ruggedthan the one where he had left Elaine. It possessed no caves, and noparticular flatness at the summit.

Grenville explored it rapidly, considerably disappointed to findnothing of special utility upon its broken surface. He had hoped forsome hard and useful stone at least, if not for actual flints.Completing its round in a haste that the rapidly increasing heat of theday considerably accelerated, he presently came upon an unusual ledgeprotruding from the slope's unpromising surface.

Here he halted in idle curiosity. The ledge was of sulphur—a blow-outfrom the hill's once molten interior, lying untouched and useless inthe sun for the elements to wear away and sluice at last to the sea.With no particular purpose in view, he broke away a fragment, droppedit carelessly into his pocket, and continued on his way.

His gaze returned with a certain steadfast eagerness to the hill andcamp beyond. He was not precisely disappointed on failing to discoverElaine, who might have been waiting to wave him a signal from theheights; he was somewhat concerned to know if all was well upon herrock. She was not to be seen at all about the place. He clambered tothe top of a broken bowlder for a view more comprehensive.

This, too, appeared a wasted effort, at least as concerned Elaine. Theisland map, however, was laid out before him in a manner to completehis former survey of the place. There were several clearings thusrevealed that could never be seen from the farther point of vantage.

Acknowledging each of these in turn, Grenville was once more about todirect his footsteps homeward when one of the smaller, near-by breaksin the jungle, quite at the top of a species of rift in the island'sruggedness, down upon his left, attracted a second glance.

For a moment he fancied some colossal remains, as of an animal longsince extinct, were lying there in the clinging embrace of thecreepers. He decided, then, it was a boat, but dismissed this notionas preposterous, so high above the water's edge, and so near theisland's center, did it lie. About ready to conclude that certaingiant shadows contributed much to round out a half-imagined form, hisgaze encountered a bowsprit thrust through all the foliage, itsidentity not to be mistaken. The hull of a ship was undoubtedly there.He hastened down, expectantly, to make its better acquaintance.

The wonder when he came there was—how it came to be stranded so highand far above the water. As for the vessel itself, it was merely arotted old shell, with its cargo bursting through its ribs.

So far as Grenville could judge from its fast-decaying remains, it hadbeen an inferior type of the old-fashioned barque, and of very modestdimensions. Its masts, however, were gone, together with everyaccessible piece of metal that eager hands could remove. Its moldy andslimy old cabin had partially collapsed. Without effecting an entrancethrough the treacherous deck, Sidney could discover nothing respectingits interior.

He could peer through the ribs at several places along the hull, andeven near the keel, by stooping low, but the most he could determine bysuch a superficial examination was that there was nothing even herethat he could use. The cargo he thought for a moment to be chalk, orlime. He scraped a clean sample from the weathered heap, and rubbed itin his palm. Its crystalline structure was not that of either lime orchalk. When he placed a particle on his tongue, he dropped all he heldwith no further interest.

The stuff was common saltpeter. That the vessel had been westwardbound, perhaps from Borneo, with this mineral common to so much of thattropical section, he understood at once. But to find her stranded thusso loftily was amazing. He scraped at the soil with the toe of hisboot to dig below the surface.

As he had rather expected, seashells and pebbles of a former beach werereadily brought to view. Some old upheaval had undoubtedly liftedbeach, vessel, and all to this altitude above the tides, and left itthere to decay.

Considerably disappointed to find the hulk so completely stripped ofthe metal furnishings of which he might have wrought some sort of toolsor weapons, Grenville hesitated between an impulse to continue home toElaine without greater delay, and a strong desire to investigate thecabin of the barque. The latter temptation was not to be resisted.

He grasped the branch of an overhanging tree and, by dint of muchactive scrambling, clawing, and thrusting his toes into various chinks,at length gained the planks of the slanted deck and broke his way intothe one-time sanctum of the captain and his mates.

This, too, had been pillaged with exceptional thoroughness. There was,however, a passageway leading to another apartment beyond, where adoor, half open, was revealed by sunlight streaming through the brokenroof. Thither Grenville made his way—to behold an extraordinary sight.

The place was a room, partitioned off from considerably largerquarters. It contained one object only—a form, half mummy, halfskeleton, that had once been a powerful man. And this was chained tothe wall!

It was sitting propped against the lintel of a second door, a panel ofwhich was raggedly broken out. It had never been robbed of its head.A strong, black beard still remained upon the emaciated face, and theeye-sockets stared straight forward at the door by which the visitorhad entered.

Grenville was not to be easily dismayed, yet the attitude of thisgrewsome thing was very far from being pleasant. The being had beenalmost naked when he perished here alone with a heavy iron band abouthis waist. All this his visitor swiftly discerned while inclined toturn about and flee the place. He discovered, then, an additionalmystery.

The skin, in a patch fully six inches square, had disappeared from thehelpless being's breast. That it had not wasted away by a naturalprocess was, moreover, perfectly obvious, since the square-cut edges ofparchment, which the remainder of his cuticle had become by themummifying process, were distinctly to be seen. It had been removedwith a knife. It appeared to Grenville that the captive had beenpropped artificially where he sat, as if to guard the passage. Atrickle of water, saturated with saltpeter, had served to embalm bothhis flesh and skin, in part.

That the cabin beyond had likewise been despoiled of its treasure wasalmost a foregone conclusion. However, Sidney stepped closer to thesilent form and peered through the broken panel.

The room into which he was gazing was dimly lighted by the rays ofdaylight filtering through a number of cracks which the weather hadopened in its ceiling. When his sight grew accustomed to the darkness,he saw that the place had evidently served not only as quarters for theformer crew, but likewise as a storage hold for ropes, paints, extrafurnishings, and, doubtless, victuals.

Its contents lay scattered about in confusion and decay, yet promisedmore "treasure" for Grenville's needs than all the rest of the vessel.He drove his shoulder against the door, and its lock broke the rottedwoodwork away with a suddenness the man had not expected. He passedthe mummified guardian at the portal somewhat hurriedly, as he lurchedinside the chamber; and he nearly fell across a box that had spilledout a dozen old pieces of brass.

Upon these he pounced with avidity, despite the fact they were greenlyincrusted with "rust." Among other articles of plunder thus providedto his hand were several row-locks, a broken turnbuckle, a dozen atleast of useless hinges, and a hatful of screws more or less cementedtogether.

With vague ideas of employing the metal somehow, he filled his pocketswith the smaller articles and looked about for possible tools. From abroken locker in a corner much similar scrap stuff had fallen. Herewas a large brass porthole rim, parts of a broken binnacle, half of thebrazen cap from a towing-bit, two heavy bronze handles of swords nowfallen to pieces with decay, an old brass lantern with a useless lamp,a large coil of excellent copper wire, a ball of lead, and remains ofseveral iron marlinespikes, mere effigies now in flaky rust.

From beneath a heap of rotted cordage a greenish cylinder protruded.Grenville drew it forth. It proved to be a small brass cannon,unmounted, and apparently filled with mud. Near by he discovered therapidly disintegrating remnants of an old-time flintlock musket. Thiswas a priceless treasure, for the flint, which was still intact. Helikewise saved a bit of the steel that the cordage had protected.

The thin and wasted skeleton of a hand-saw hung upon a hook. When hetook the blade between his fingers it fell apart like paper, charred,but still holding its original form. Not an object he found of ironwas worth removing to the camp. Resolved to return at an early date,to annex the old cannon and such other heavy bric-à-brac as he couldnot conveniently carry away to-day, Grenville finally left themysterious dead man still sitting in chains beside the door, and oncemore regained the wholesome earth.

He finally glanced at his watch. The time was nearly twelve! He hadbeen for at least three hours away from Elaine, who was waiting aloneupon the hill! Back to the trail, and then along its sinuous windingsthrough the jungle, he strode at his swiftest pace.

When he came to the final clearing before the towering rock, he was allbut paralyzed with dread at a bit of drama being there enacted.

At the edge of the jungle stood Elaine, her arms and jacket filled withfruits she had gathered against his coming. By the foot of the trailthat ascended to their camp, posed in a waiting attitude, his long tailonly in motion, gracefully sweeping his great tawny side, was the tigerthat wore the golden collar.

Not a sound escaped from Elaine's white lips, as she turned to glanceacross at Sidney. Then she limberly sank on the earth.

CHAPTER VIII

PRIMITIVE CONDITIONS

A short, sharp cry was the only note that Grenville uttered.

The tiger had turned his blazing eyes on the man he but partiallyfeared. Sidney was coming less at him than towards the helpless,prostrate form that lay upon the grass.

The man had forgotten his danger in his greater concern for Elaine. Hereached her side before he confronted the jungle beast, who stillremained undecided. Slowly then, deliberately, the malignant animal,superb not only in his strength and splendid proportions, but also inhis arrogance, his indifference to man, the master butcher of theworld, ran out his tongue to lick his chops, stretched his terriblemouth in a fang-revealing yawn, and trod his way into the thicket.

The fruits she had gathered were scattered all about as Grenvillelifted Elaine in his arms and carried her up the steep ascent. Nothaving actually swooned, she had fairly begun to revive once morebefore he reached the cave.

When he placed her down on a heap of half-dried grass she had throwntogether while awaiting his return, a faint tinge of color wasreturning to her face, and her eyes dimly focused upon him.

"You've worked too much, that's what it means," he said. "You seeyou're tired."

"I'm—sorry," she faltered, faintly. "I really—didn't mean to be—soweak."

"Never mind," he said. "I'll kill the brute. His skin is certainly abeauty." With the utmost apparent indifference to Elaine's recovery,he went at once to the clearing for the bits of old junk he had dropped.

When he returned, his mind was still on the tiger.

"We've got to live—move about—and not be annoyed," he said. "If Ihad a single rifle! But I'll get him somehow, soon!"

Elaine still remained upon the hay.

"If he doesn't get us sooner," she replied, a little grimly, but not asone in fear.

"I shall wall up the trail," mused Grenville, aloud, looking about atthe quantity of rock so readily afforded. "That much I can do thisafternoon."

She sat up a bit more sturdily.

"I dropped our luncheon, I suppose.... I hope to do better, later on,when I get more used to conditions." She was mortified to think he hadbeen thus promptly obliged to carry her "home" in his arms.

"You are doing fairly well," he said, in his off-hand manner. "Weshall soon be all right. It's a fine and tight little island."

Her one idea was to get away as soon as possible.

"Shouldn't we put up a flag, or something, in case a steamer shouldhappen to be passing?"

"As soon as I can cut a long bamboo. I must have both tools and fireas promptly as possible."

"You must be hungry," she remarked, arising rather weakly and going tothe end of her cave, where all the water that remained in the half ofthe paw-paw shell had been carefully stored, in Grenville's absence.Then, emerging with her burden, she added, "I meant to have yourluncheon ready, but we have almost nothing left."

"All that you gathered was left by the tiger," he answered, cheerfully."The beast prefers more solid diet." Once more descending the trail,he presently returned with the fruits that had fallen from her arms.

They ate, as before, in the shade of her cave, for the sun on the rockswas becoming hot.

"The wall this afternoon," said Grenville, as he finally concluded hissimple repast with a drink of tepid water. "Then our mast and signalof distress must be erected. I shall try for fire directly. I mustmake a bow and some arrows. A clay pit I found will provide us withearthenware utensils, and then—if only I could manage to melt somebrass—— You see, the worst of it is, no stone I've discovered on theplace is fit to use for a tool."

Elaine avoided the boyish gleaming of his gaze. "Are we thrust so farback as the stone age, then? It's really as bad as that?"

"Bad?" he said. "It's tremendously diverting. I've got to begin, asit were, with my naked hands. But fortunately, I believe, for us, thebronze and stone ages lap," and he drew from his pockets some bits ofthe heterogeneous collection he had brought from the rotting barque.

"You have found some metal?" Elaine inquired, excitedly. "But where?"

"In a wreck that must have arrived here years ago." He related as muchas he thought advisable and undisturbing to the thoroughly wonderinggirl.

She could see no possible use for all the rusted bronze and brass hehad earned away from the wreck so strangely discovered, but she made nodiscouraging comments to dampen an ardor which to her was not preciselycomprehensible.

"I hope I can help," she told him, as she had before. "I'm afraid I'mnot very clever."

"We'll see," he answered, cheerfully. "Necessity is rather a strictinstructor."

But she could not assist him with the wall, at which he was presentlyperspiring. The stones he rolled and carried to the narrowest shelf orledge that was scaled by the trail were far too heavy for her delicatehands and muscles.

"Can't I do something else?" she begged, eager for any employment."There must be some work I could do."

"You might plait a basket of some sort," he said. "We shall need somepresently."

He thereupon went below again, cut all he could carry of tough andlimber creepers, and, fetching them up to the shade of her cave,instructed Elaine in such of the rudiments of basket-weaving as hehimself could readily invent, and left her busily employed.

The wall he required to prevent any possible night attack on the partof the beast that was already inclined to stalk either one of them, orboth, was not of any considerable length, owing to the narrowness ofthe pass he had chosen to block with bowlders. He had, however, tomake it thick and high. By taking advantage of three large blocks,which he rolled down hill to the place selected, he secured asubstantial foundation with comparative ease. After that it became amatter merely of carrying stone after stone, from their inexhaustiblesupply on the summit, to lodge in rough, uneven tiers to the heightdesired.

He had left a narrow gateway next the natural wall that made hisstructure complete. This he could block with a heavy log, or even morestones, for the night.

For fully three hours he wrought prodigiously, returning from time totime to Elaine, to guide and assist her with her basket. Between themthey managed to produce from their rough material a crude, misshapenreceptacle, coarse of mesh and clumsy, yet strong and not to bedespised. Grenville expected to use it to fetch his clay from the pit.

It was not until this product of their combined ingenuity was fairlycomplete that Grenville discovered he could split the bark of thecreepers readily, and tear out a smooth white core, like a withe, farmore suitable to their uses. He then not only stripped out severalfull-length cores, but he also found that the bark or covering thusremoved was constructed of numerous thread-like strands amazingly toughand long. These fibers were not so readily separated as the core hadbeen from the covering with which they were incorporated, althoughtheir recovery was not a difficult operation. His inventive mind sawample employment for them later.

The wall was not entirely finished when, at length, he left it for theday. He was weary in all his bone and sinew, despite the prodding ofhis will. He had made no attempt at kindling fire, and none towardsprocuring a mast to erect for a flag of distress. These were tasksthat must wait for the morrow, with the others he was eager to attack.

The dinner at sundown was necessarily a repetition of the previousmeals of the day. It could not be followed by the cheer and comfort ofa fire, and the darkness, that drew on rapidly, brought a sense ofchill and depression to Elaine, notwithstanding her bravery of spirit.

The wind had ceased, except for the merest intermittent puffs of breaththat floated upward from the sea. Not even the lapping of the tideagainst the wall arose to break the silence. The stillness waspainfully profound, though Elaine's imagination depicted a hundrednocturnal brutes of the jungle, prowling in every trail and clearing,in a savage quest for blood.

As a matter of fact, the nightly tragedies were already well begun.But it was not until some victim shrilly voiced its animal fear andagony, just beneath the towering wall, that Elaine had a realizingsense of her nearness to these creatures of the darkness, or theworking of life's inexorable laws.

Her mind reverted, by natural process, to all the terrible occurrencescrowded into her life within the last couple of days—occurrences thatseemed so needlessly tragic, and all the alarms excited in her breast,not only by the frightful accident to the "Inca," but likewise by thealmost unknown man upon whom she was now dependent.

She recalled with singular vividness every accent, every gesture, look,and deed that had accompanied Grenville's declaration. She burnedagain, with shame and indignation, to think of the things he had daredto say and do—the treachery done to his friend—the indignity done toherself.

She hated him now more intensely than before, since he seemed, by someenormity of purpose, to have been in some manner responsible for thefate that had brought her here in his company, absolutely at his mercy.That his promptness of action had saved her life she willingly andjustly conceded—but to fetch her here, all by herself, to an islandunpeopled and awful, far from the track of ocean-going steamers—withhis threat to compel her love still ringing in her ears—this seemed tooutweigh any possible service he had done or could ever accomplish.

What would he do, she wondered, on the morrow? When would he speak ofhis passion again? What means, in this situation, might he presentlyadopt to coerce the love she knew she should never bestow?

There could be no answer to her questions—least of all from the manhimself. He, too, had fallen into silence, and a study of the vast andmerciless problems, not only of existence till their escape could beeffected, but likewise as to how that escape could be attempted, insafety, and where they must steer their ocean course to come to a landwhich should not prove inhospitable.

He seemed, for the time, to have quite forgotten the presence of thegirl at the cave. This she finally observed. She wondered, then, whatsinister outcome his brooding might presage.

Keyed to a pitch of nervous sensibility she had never experiencedbefore, she retired at length within her shelter like a child thrustalone in the dark. Much as she felt she disliked the man, she foundherself most reluctant to move very far from his presence, or refusehis protecting care. She was certain her dread of all it meant to behopelessly cast upon this island, with one doubtful human being onlyfor comfort and companionship, would haunt her to sleeplessnessthroughout the night. Yet she fell into slumber almost at once, andonly dreamed she was still awake and worried.

It was still quite early in the evening. Elaine was finallyapproaching a thoroughly restful oblivion, when a low, moaning wail,and then shrill screams, abruptly ushered once more into play thathideous chorus of the morning, produced by some phenomenon of the tides.

"Sidney! Sidney!" came an answering cry; and Grenville arose, to seeElaine running wildly towards him from her cave.

CHAPTER IX

THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

It was not until the entire cycle of haunting sounds had been repeatedfor its final time that Elaine could consent to return to her pallet ofgrasses. And even when she had once more knelt upon this improvisedbed, she could not consent to resign herself to the mercies of thenight without one more glance towards Grenville's cavern.

She returned, unseen, to her door, and peered forth through the starlitnight, discerning his dimly outlined figure, as he sat before his door.

He even arose as she paused there, uncertainly. She noted hislistening attitude, the alertness of his pose. Then he sat once moreupon the stone at his threshold, where she knew his club lay ready tohis hand.

A sense of security, despite her bitterness of feeling, came slowlystealing upon her. She went back to her couch and slept.

Sidney, for his part, sat there alone, while hour after hour wentsilently by, and the constellations hung in higher arches. A thousandramifications of thought he pursued in his active brain. But throughthem all, like an ever recurrent motif, stole a troubled reminder ofthe tiger, twice encountered in the day.

To slay this contemptuous, savage beast that already drooled about thejaws at thoughts of a human morsel, was the one imperative business tobe promptly executed. Elaine and himself could live on fruits, andneglect all else, without serious results, for a week, or even a month,but this affair was not to be delayed.

He thought of pitfalls, giant traps, and automatic engines ofdestruction by the score, each deadly device absurdly impracticable andbeyond all power of his achievement. His mind, accustomed to civilizedways, ran in higher ingenuities that were absolutely useless in thisprimal state of their existence.

When at length he leaned back against his wall and began to wonder if,in the end, he must arm himself with primitive man's crude bow andarrow, and thus engage the master prowler of the jungle, he was readyfor Nature's claims. He slept there, too utterly exhausted to draghimself in to his bed. And there Elaine found him in the morning.

That day was a long one, of varied and wearying employments. The wallwas finished across the trail, Elaine's too widely opened cavern waspartially blocked up with stone, and, at length, in addition tosearching the jungle for something particularly downy and inflammablefor tinder, to use in making fire, Grenville went with his basket downto the clay pit and fetched sufficient of this moist and plasticmaterial to mould a number of vessels.

This last useful art was not, however, immediately attempted. Unfiredjugs and basins were absolutely useless—and as yet they had no fire.The search for tinder had resulted only in producing a silken, fluffymaterial that grew in a fat green pod. It was moist, when found, withthe natural juices of the plant.

While it dried in the sun, under Elaine's supervision, Grenville workedat a stout, elastic tree-branch to taper out a bow. His stub of aknife-blade served indifferently against the close-grained wood, which,nevertheless, was obliged to yield to his persevering efforts.

At noon the weapon, save for the cord, was rudely finished. No arrowshad been as yet provided. Obliged at this hour to replenish the campsupply of water, Grenville once more visited the spring. So fresh werethe tracks of the tiger here, in the mire about the trickling stream,that he felt they must almost be warm. The brute was undoubtedly nearat hand, but, perhaps, well fed, as before.

"There is nothing quite so important now as fire," was Grenville'sremark, as he once more rejoined Elaine. "Without it we arepractically helpless. With it—there is almost nothing we may not hopeto achieve."

He had thought of a number of extraordinary and highly importantimplements and arts that only flame and glowing heat could renderpossible.

Elaine brought the fluff she had thoroughly dried, while Grenvillecleaned his flint and steel. For an hour, then, he strove in vain toignite his bit of tinder. It was not at all an easy matter to strike aspark from the stone. What few brilliant specks of incandescence spedoccasionally downward like vigor transmuted into swiftly fading starsfrom Grenville's varied and over-eager strokes, either died on the airor missed their mark or struck it and found it uncongenial.

"This must be a vegetable asbestos," he finally declared. "If I hadjust a pinch of powder, this flint might recognize—— By Jove!" andhe started at once to his feet. "I'm the greatest fool on legs!"

"What seems to be the trouble?" said Elaine, who could not possiblycomprehend his meaning. "Have you made some sort of mistake?"

"I've been asleep—my brain defunct! Excuse me half a minute!"

He started madly down the trail, running like a boy. Before Elainecould do more than stare in wonder at his antics, he had reached thebottom of the wall, darted across the clearing, and disappeared in thejungle growth beyond.

He smashed his way hotly to the wrecked old barque, and, pawing deeplybeneath the surface of the wasting saltpeter, that had been for longsomewhat protected in the hold, promptly filled two pockets with themineral, and went racing back as he had come.

But beyond the clearing he altered his course to enter the region onceblackened by fire. Here he went directly to the hollow tree he hadonce before examined, and, wriggling inside, through the ample orificeburned out by the flames, he attacked the charred interior with hisknife as if his very life depended on his haste.

In the briefest time he had chipped off more than a double handful ofcrisp, but inferior, charcoal. Retreating no less promptly than he hadentered, he gathered this carefully in a giant leaf, and hastilyrejoined Elaine.

"Powder!" he said, belatedly explaining. "Everything lying here andready, and my brain a howling blank!"

To Elaine this was not precisely clear.

"There is gunpowder here on the island?"

"No! The ingredients merely. But any child—— Ah! here's my bit ofsulphur! There's a ton of it ready to be gathered. Powder? I canmake enough to blow a dozen tigers into ribbons! The wreck is full ofniter and, once we have a fire, I can burn all the jungle intocharcoal!"

The mystery had not entirely lifted for Elaine, but this she hardlyexpected.

"How can I help?" she asked him, quietly. "There must be something Ican do."

"It's a matter of grinding these materials," he answered, more calmly,depositing sulphur, saltpeter, and charcoal on a rock before them."It's a simple composition, after all."

Barely less feverishly than before he began a search for suitablestones to employ as mortars and pestles. There were many smallbowlders slightly hollowed by the elements, but a number of these hadsurfaces ready to crumble, and were, therefore, reluctantly discarded.In throwing about some loosely huddled fragments, to liberate a smooth,hard slab of stone that was dished from its edges to its center,Grenville was doubly rewarded by coming upon a large, thick seashell,practically perfect.

With this and the basin of harder rock, he returned at once to theshade. He was soon reducing the charcoal, while Elaine no lessindustriously attacked the lump of sulphur.

"We need a little only for a trial," he said, as he presently siftedout his powdered product, and began to grind the niter. "I wish Iremembered the proportions."

In his haste to obtain results as soon as possible, he finally shook upand ground together a large-sized pinch from each of the threematerials, producing thereby a grayish, unpromising mixture, decidedlytoo rich in both the charcoal and sulphur.

This he placed on a rock, a safe distance away, and attacked with hisflint and steel. Elaine had ceased her grinding operations, to standat his side and watch. He struck, perhaps, a dozen times before heproduced a shower of sparks—and nothing occurred. He looked at thestuff for a moment, helplessly, discouragement swiftly lodging in hisbosom. Half-heartedly he struck the steel again.

A single spark flew hotly from the flint. It seemed to curve to theoutside edge of the powder. Instantly, however, the mixture wasignited.

It did not burn in a quick, fierce flash, but more with a sputtering,imperfect combustion, productive of stifling fumes. Grenville's handwas slightly scorched—but his joy in the triumph was complete.

"We're kings!" he cried, sublimely indifferent to genders. "We'remonarchs of all we survey!" He leaped up, waving his flint about hishead, his face outbeaming the sun.

Elaine was vaguely glad of his results.

"I'm afraid I don't understand it in the least."

"Not at all necessary," he informed her, candidly. "It's the veryworst powder ever made. My charcoal is poor and my proportions wrong,and I only half ground it all together. But it burned! That's enoughfor me—it burned! It assures us a fire, and I'll make a new batch,that will go off like a Spanish revolution!"

He went below at once to gather twigs and fuel, bits of dried grass,and other kindling, and brought a large bundle to the terrace. Morecarefully, then, he mixed and ground his succeeding sample of thepowder. Recalling more clearly the accepted formula, he increased theproportion of saltpeter to something nearer seventy-five per cent. ofthe whole, approximating thus the standard long since established.

Aware that, when he finally came to manufacture an explosive of higherefficiency, he would do much better to wet the ingredients and laterdry the finished product, he now proceeded, as before, merely to tryfor a fire.

Thus he presently laid a train of his grayish mixture from one smallheap to another, in a place selected for his trial. Over one of thepowder pyramids he arranged his combustible straws, twigs, and brancheswith the nicest care. And when, at length, he struck a white-hot star,divinely potential, into the midst of the second heap, a hissing snakeof incandescence and smoke darted swiftly along the surface ofrock—and his fire leaped into being.

On the towering rock, as on an altar, the flames that meant life to theexiled pair rose goldenly bright and clear.

A strange exultation in Grenville's prowess possessed Elaine, as shestood by in wonder, looking on his face.

"It shall never go out," he told her, presently, "not if I can preventit."

CHAPTER X

THE MASTER POACHER

There were woods in abundance about the base of the tufa cliff thatwould burn almost as slowly and retain their glow about as long as thehardest of anthracite coal.

Yet it was not on these that Grenville depended, that particular night,to maintain the fire he had conjured from flint and steel. All thoselong dark hours he served his altar flame with fuel gathered for thepurpose. An easier method for its preservation, by means of the woodsthat were promptly discovered, he adopted, however, very soon.

Each day that was ushered in and closed by the island's haunting wailsand chorus, now beheld some new development in the plans that Grenvillewas laying. Elaine, less disturbed by the hideous sounds, might havelearned more promptly to accept them as part of the ordeal of living inthis extraordinary fashion, had they always come at stated hours. But,born of the tides, they came with the tides, which, all the world over,shift with each day till every hour of the twenty-four has had itsvisitation. Like a horrid reminder of the brevity of life, the thingwas fore-ordered to rise unexpectedly, fret forgetful senses, andlinger longest, apparently, in the deadest hours of the night.Concerning her companion, her mind was far more calm. Her distrust anddislike were unabated, but he gave her no cause for added worry.

By the third day after his fire had been accomplished, Grenville hadconsiderably altered their aspects and prospects of living. Theirbamboo flagpole stood in a crevice of the highest rock, with "rags" ofbanana leaves idly flapping out a signal of distress; a number ofpipkins, large and small, were grayly drying in the sun, to besubsequently fired; his bow was strung, beside three unfeatheredarrows, crudely tipped with points that Sidney had pounded out ofscrews; charcoal was burning, down in the blackened clearing; a numberof traps and dead-falls were nearing completion; and several basketloads both of sulphur and saltpeter were stored in caverns, which theman had roofed to protect them from the rain.

Much toil had been involved in these achievements. The bamboo pole,for instance, had been most laboriously burned off, close to its base.To accomplish this end, the man had carried coals of fire to theestuary swamp, created a blaze, and repeatedly heated his longest pieceof brass, which had slowly charred a channel through the wood whensmartly applied to its surface.

The cord that secured the "flag" upon this serviceable mast, had beenmade, like the string for the bow, by twisting together innumerablethreads of the fiber imbedded in the bark of the creepers. This hadthen been "waxed" with the glutinous ooze from the nearest rubber tree,with which the jungle abounded. He had also found wild sisal in therocky places of the island. This plant had a leaf like a bayonet,sometimes six feet long, and readily split into fibers of mostastonishing strength, especially when three were braided into a cord.

Considerably to Grenville's amazement, the molding of jugs, somecrucibles, and other essential vessels suggested by the presence of theclay, was not at all a simple matter. His material, which at first wasmixed too soft, was readily stiffened to a workable consistency, andthe bases and first six inches or more of flaring walls of his pipkinshad been fashioned as a child would fashion "pies." It was when heundertook to crimp and contract this flaring rim that the craftsmanshipknown to the potter required once again to be evolved.

For a time the longer he wrought at the stubborn material the morecompletely Grenville was defeated by the clay. He discovered at last,as similar workmen in every age and clime have ultimately discovered,that potteries thus constructed by hand must be built up in rings, onering at a time, especially where the walls draw in to an ever narrowingdiameter.

When, at length, this simple fact had been established—the firstsuccess having come to Elaine, whose feminine wit had been nimbler farthan the man's—a highly respectable family of jugs and usefulreceptacles had rapidly come into being.

Mid-afternoon of this busy day found Grenville engrossed with hislabors. Despite the fact they had not yet dined on anything but fruit,he was preparing salt for meat. The shell he had found was full ofwater from the sea, evaporating rapidly in a bed of hot ashes andcoals. This, however, was resigned to Elaine's efficient vigilance,while Sidney worked absorbingly to complete a number of small claymolds designed for the casting of tools.

When, at length, the last of these was done and set aside to dry withthe jugs and assorted vessels, he glanced briefly up at the sun. Therewere several hours of this blazing light remaining. Resolved in onemoment to hasten to the jungle with his bow and the unfeathered arrows,which might be relied upon at easy range to fly sufficiently straightfor all his purposes, Grenville determined in the next to make them abit more certain.

A branch and leaf from a freshly despoiled banana plant had suggested"feathers" for his shafts. It was the work of a moment only to cut outand trim a slender bit of the fibrous branch from which the leafsubstance projected. The leaf part itself, which was rather tough, andconsiderably like a stiffened cloth in texture, he cut to shape no lessquickly. Then, binding on each of the arrows a trio of theseimprovised "rudders," he took up his club, informed Elaine he might beabsent half an hour, and descended at once to the clearing.

His porcupine, seen no less than half a dozen times when his arms hadbeen burdened, or his club was not at hand, was not to be found for allhis elaborate searching, now that he was desirable for dinner.Naturally, Grenville had no particular preference for porcupine wherepheasants were not impossible. But the fact that the bristlinghedgehog is not to be despised, he knew from past experience.Moreover, he had fondly hoped this somewhat stupid quarry might bereadily found and taken.

Notwithstanding the fact that for three days past not a sign had beenvouchsafed him of the tiger, Grenville took to himself no fulsome senseof security as he made his way slowly through the jungle, towards theestuary swamp. The island was small; the brute was always near—andsome day the contest between they two must be waged to a definiteconclusion.

The axiom is old that the most game is seen when the huntsman has noweapon. It seemed to Grenville, slipping as noiselessly as possibledown towards the water, where birds and beasts had always beenencountered, that the island had been suddenly deserted. He saw not athing, beyond the vaguest movements in the trees, perhaps for the veryfact he moved so cautiously, and thereby assumed an aspect that wascrafty, sinister, or suspicious.

Some reptile glided to the water, starting a ripple on the surface, butnot even its head was visible to the watchful eyes of the man. Anarrow was notched upon his bow, and, while the practice in which he hadindulged had been far too brief to develop the skill he knew he mightfinally acquire, Sidney was certain that up to a range of five or tenyards his shaft would prove fairly deadly.

He had heretofore seen no game at all that was not, in fact, almostunder his very feet. Of the pheasants, flushed before on at leastthree separate occasions, he detected not so much as a hint. Themonkeys were silent. Not even the noisy parrots flew out with theirusual disturbance. All about the growth of bamboo he trod, wherever aspace was open, but in vain.

Reflecting that the pheasants might have gone beyond, to a sectionwhere rocks and shrubbery doubtless afforded the seeds or berries onwhich they would probably feed, he started more briskly towards thetrail that would take him past the wreck.

He had not entirely cleared the bamboo growth when, abruptly, there inthe open space before him, hardly fifteen feet away, a wild hog paused,fairly startled to inaction where it had entered the clearing from thejungle. It had turned its head to stare at the man inquiringly. Itstwo little eyes, maliciously gleaming, increased its threatening aspectas the bristles slowly rose on its back.

Without making the slightest unnecessary movement, Grenville raised hisbow. He drew the arrow fairly to the head. A sharp twang followedinstantly. A streak of gray sped swiftly and obliquely towards theearth. Then, for a second, Grenville saw the stout shaft quiver whereit was buried in the base of the creature's neck.

One challenging grunt the wild hog uttered, starting as if to charge.But the arrow had shattered the nerves that make for rage and courage,cleaving to the seat of life itself.

The boar staggered blindly, instinctively, back to the dense,concealing jungle.

Grenville heard it grunt once savagely, as it broke its way pastinterfering branches of the growth. He realized it was escaping, thatit might reach a hole or other concealment before it fell, and cheathim of his dinner.

He dropped his bow, as a useless impediment in such a tangle, andplunged in a reckless manner through the shrubbery and vines where hisquarry was no longer in sight.

The hog must have stumbled forward with considerable speed. Avibrating palm, ten feet ahead of his position, urged Sidneyimpulsively forward. He was baffled and retarded in a mostexasperating fashion by the creepers woven through the thicket.

Obliged to make a slight detour, he smashed a path between two stoutbanana palms—and came upon a hidden clearing. There was oneunexpectedly violent movement of the growth just opposite, and there hethought his hog was dying.

Instantly upon his startled vision impinged a blot of yellow color.The full active form of the tiger was immediately revealed, as thebrute leaped forth and sank his teeth in the neck of the sinking boar.

There was one shrill mort cry only as the hog became inert. Halfraising the limber form in his massive jaws, the while his eyes wildlyblazed his challenge to and defiance of the man who had halted in theclearing, the great supple creature, with the studded gold band abouthis neck, slowly strode once more within the jungle.

With a horribly disquieting comprehension of the fact he had doubtlessbeen stalked for the past half hour, which fully accounted for theabsence of game along the trails, Grenville retreated from the place.Why he had not been leaped upon and instantly slain was too much tounderstand—unless the unknown beings who had placed a collar, like abadge of inferiority, upon the animal's neck, had so impressed him witha dread of man that he dared not make an attack.

All zest for the hunt had departed from his being when Sidney recoveredhis bow. Anger and exasperation took its place as he reflected on theease with which this insolent, fearless beast could continue to rob himof his quarry. And one day, he knew, the animal's boldness wouldincrease to a point where a treacherous leap would restore hisundisputed mastery of all this bit of land.

"I'll kill him!" said Grenville, unexcitedly. "I'll blow him clean outof his skin!"

He went boldly down to the rotting wreck, climbed eagerly up to theslanted cabin, and saluted the dead man, sitting there in chains.

"Brother, I've come for the cannon," he said. "There's little elseleft for you to guard."

Although the small bit of ordnance would make a load of fully fiftypounds, Grenville determined, then and there, to make a clean sweep ofall the old hulk's remaining bits of brass and bronze not appropriatedearlier. He, therefore, heaved the cannon out through a gap in therotting planks, and began a hurried overhauling of everything left inthe lockers.

He had drawn out coil upon coil of ancient cordage, that broke likewetted paper in his hands, before the largest and last of the lockershad been emptied of its junk. This was a deep and comparatively soundsort of box beneath a former bunk. Its interior was absolutely dark.

Unwilling to overlook the slightest metal object, Grenville got down onhis hands and knees, to peer to the farthest corner. There seemed tobe nothing remaining in the place. Nevertheless, he reached wellinside and swept his hand about the walls, till it came to a slightobstruction.

This was a screw-head, so far as he could determine, in the plankingjust to the left of the door, in one of the nearest corners. Hepressed rather heavily against the moldy woodwork, and his fist wentthrough, breaking away a decayed square of wood that had once been atiny door.

Convinced at once that a small and, heretofore, undiscovered locker, ofinsignificant dimensions, had been made between the walls of two of theusual compartments, he conceived it to be a secret hiding-place, andstrained the full length of his reaching arm, blindly to explore itsinterior.

He could not touch its wall at the rear without crawling fully insidethe larger locker, and for this he felt but little relish. With a planworth two of that discomfiting scheme, he arose and kicked out thepaneling from the front of the narrow box.

Once more he knelt, and thrust his arm to the end of the place. Hisfingers came gropingly upon a round, metallic object, wedged tightlydown between two supports of wood. He broke it out in his vigorousway, and drew it to the light.

CHAPTER XI

A MYSTERY

With an odd sensation tingling in his veins, Grenville examined hisfind.

It was merely a cylinder, made of brass, fully three inches indiameter, and, perhaps, eight inches long. Its cap was rusted sofirmly in place that he could not possibly remove it. He gave the tubea shake. There was something inside, but its weight was exceedinglylight.

Once more he knelt before the secret locker to examine all its walls.But although his fingers finally played upon every square inch of thesides and ceiling, there was nothing further to be found. Apparentlythe only "treasure" the place had concealed was contained within thetube.

He thought of a score of documents the one-time captain of the barquemight have thus desired to preserve, but the sun was rapidly nearingits purple horizon, and the old ship's hold was growing dark.Grenville gathered the last of the metal spoils he had found in anempty box, half rotted, on the floor. The tube he thrust firmly in hispocket.

What with the cannon balanced on his shoulder, his box of rusted metalhugged beneath his arm, and his bow, club, and arrows clutched tightlyin his hand, he presented a singular figure as he finally made his wayalong the darkening trail, and came at length to the clearing, to behailed from the heights by Elaine.

"Just for the sake of variety," he said, when he came to the terracewith his burdens, "we'll eat one more dinner of fruit."

"I couldn't think what you had killed," said Elaine, "when I saw youcoming with this," and she placed her foot on the cannon he had gladlydropped to the ground. "What is it, anyway?"

"A pop-gun," he said, "to tickle my friend the tiger."

She was instantly apprehensive. "You have met him again?"

He had no intention of arousing her alarm.

"The brute is still about the island. I should like his skin for arug."

"You could really shoot him with this?"

"Well—I shall mount it, in any case, though I have my doubts of hisstanding while I blow a few rocks through his person."

When he went for a fresh supply of fruits he brought up a log some fouror five feet in length, with a burned-off prong at its end. This heintended to prepare as a "carriage" for the gun. He placed the prongedend down in his fire, to burn out a niche for the little brass piece,which he cleaned of its mud then and there.

His preliminary work on the bit of ordnance was soon concluded. Whenhis log had burned to a moderate depth, he removed it to a near-by rockand gouged the charred portions away. Into the hollow thus rudelyformed, the breach of the gun loosely fitted, ready to be firmly boundin place.

But the day was done, and Elaine had spread their "table," to whichSidney was glad to repair.

He had mentioned nothing of the tube still fatly bulging his pocket.Until he should first determine what the cylinder contained, he meantto arouse no unnecessary speculations in the breast of his companion.How much she might yet have to know of the barque and the mummy chainedin its cabin he could not determine to-night. That something sinisterlurked behind the mystery which this and the two headless skeletonsinvolved was his constantly growing conviction.

It was not until night was heavily down, and Elaine had crept gladly tothe comfort of her cave, that Grenville produced the brass cylinder,and stirred up new flames of his fire.

Then, sitting alone in the ruddy glow, with a rock for a stool, andanother before him for an anvil, he scraped all he could of thegreenish oxidation from the cover of the tube, and tried, as before, towrench it off. The stubborn parts remained solidly rusted together.

This he had apparently expected. For he took up a rock of convenientsize and, gently beating the cylinder just below its union with thecover, he bent it slightly inward about its entire circumference,meanwhile pausing from time to time to thrust his knife between thecemented pieces and force them a little apart.

The tube was considerably mangled by this process, while the coverstill adhered. In a final burst of impatience, Grenville thrust thebattered cap in the crevice between two bowlders and wrenched itroughly away.

Then he turned the hollow tube to the light, revealing, within, theedge of some document, thick and loosely rolled. This he readilyremoved and straightened in his hands, placing the tube beneath his arm.

For a moment the parchment seemed, despite the firelight upon it, amere blank square, of leathery texture and weight. Then he fancied hesaw upon its surface some manner of writing, or signs.

He resumed his seat and held the thing to the fullest light of theflames. It was yellowish tan in color, a trifle stiff, and inclined tocurl to the shape it had held so long. Grenville turned it over, sodim were the characters it bore. There was nothing, however, on itsouter side, wherefore he bent more closely towards his wavering lightabove such signs as he could finally discern.

Perhaps the fact that he began by expecting to find some ordinary map,or printed or written characters, for a short time baffled his wits.Howbeit, he began at length to discover the fact that a few large signsor hieroglyphics had been rudely sketched upon the parchment. Whenthis discovery was finally confirmed, he had still considerabledifficulty in tracing the lines that comprised these singular designs.

The firelight cast dark shadows in certain crease-like traceries thatfolds in the substance had formed. It was not until he presentlymanaged to discriminate between these mere wrinkles and the "writing,"that he made the slightest progress. His eyes at last became more keento follow the artist's meaning. With his stub of a pencil, on awhittled bit of wood, he began to copy what he "read."

The result was, crudely, this:

It was not a map; it could hardly be a message—unless expressed insome short-hand system heretofore unknown—yet it must at some time orother have been accounted important to have been so elaboratelypreserved.

Grenville turned it upside down, compared his copy with the originalrepeatedly, and then examined the parchment with most minuteparticularity in search of some smaller writing to explain thesemysterious signs.

There was nothing further to be seen—at least by the light of hisfire. Two of the symbols only did he recognize as ever having come tohis attention before. These were, first, the lines like a series ofM's, and second the oval, about a human figure. This last suggestedunmistakably an ancient Egyptian cartouch—the name or title of a king.But containing one sign only, and that apparently representing a mummy,it puzzled the inventor no less than the pyramids and curves.

That some either crude or crafty mind had combined this mixture ofEgyptian and nondescript hieroglyphics with intent to reveal somesecret message or information to other initiated beings, whileconcealing its import from all accidental beholders of the script,seemed to Grenville perfectly obvious.

He sat for three hours replenishing the fire and goading his brain fora key to the puzzle, before it occurred to his mind at last the tubemight contain the explanation.

All this while he had held it beneath his arm, hard pressed against hisbody. As he peered down its dark interior once more, he likewisethrust in his fingers. It was they that discovered and fastened uponanother sheet of something he had missed.

This clung so close to the tube's metal walls he wetted his finger toremove it. The light then shone opaquely through its substance. Itwas ordinary foolscap paper, the half of a sheet, gone yellowish withage, but otherwise very well preserved.

It was covered with roughly scrawled characters.

Grenville glanced it through—and irrelevantly longed for a pipe. Hefelt he should like some good tobacco to assist in the puzzle'ssolution.

He felt convinced, however, that a crude example of the simplest, mostprimitive cipher was contained upon the sheet. Should the words laterprove to be in English he could finally read it all. He began tocompare the recurrence of the various symbols at once, discovering thatthe sign in the form of a cross had been used no less than fourteentimes, and was therefore almost certainly E. The next in importancewas the figure 3, which he felt might be either A, or N, or S, sincethese, after E, are among the characters in English spelling mostfrequently employed.

On another clean chip of whittled wood he jotted down a few of the"words" with E's in each instance substituted for the crosses, and thenbegan attempting to make clear sense by substituting A's, N's, and S'sfor the figure three, the figure one, and open squares, which, hefound, had been often represented.

It was a blind and tedious business. His fire burned low, in hisabsorption, and the midnight constellations marched past the zenith ofthe heavens before he finally realized the folly of his quest.

"It's not a bit of good in the world, if I knew all about it," hefinally confessed, "no matter what it means."

He went to bed. But he did not sleep. Those singular pyramids and thecipher still lingered before his inner vision. What was the mysteryhidden behind the dead man chained in the rotting barque, the headlessskeletons lying near the swamp, and now these documents, found in thetube and so carefully concealed?

"I give it up," he told himself at last, in an effort to dismiss it alland compose his active brain. "I wish I had a stouter tube to make agood bomb for the tiger."

He thought perhaps he could use the oxidized cylinder as it was, andbegan thereupon to wonder how he should make a fuse by which its powdercontents might be ignited. Thus he drowsed off at last, with fantasticdreams swiftly solving the sum of his problems.

CHAPTER XII

AMBITIOUS PLANS

Grenville awoke with a brilliant idea, born in his brain as he slept.

It was not concerned with the documents found in the old brassreceptacle, but entirely with the tiger. He knew how to fashion a fuse.

The creepers had answered this latest need, with their bark so readilyhollowed. He had burned up yards of the drying stuff with the coreremoved, all of it shrunk and twisted tight, like long coils ofvegetable tubing. He had only to fill it with his powder while green,and then let it dry in the sun.

He could likewise fill the useless cylinder, wrap it about to increaseits resistance to the powder—and thereby render its explosion far moreviolent. If, after that, a chance were presented to ignite it underthe tiger——

It was possible always, he confessed, the tiger might prove unwilling.However, both the cannon and bomb should be immediately prepared.There could be no peace upon the island while the brute remained alive.

All thoughts of the cipher were postponed for evening recreation. Theday's work began after breakfast in preparing large quantities ofpowder.

At this Elaine assisted. She was glad of any employment. No less inher veins than in Grenville's the promptings of being in the primitivewere daily surging stronger. Like himself, she was hungry for meat;and while she had no thoughts of turning Amazon herself, she felt anincreasing interest in all that Grenville was attempting in his task ofcoping with nature.

Meanwhile Sidney was daily assuming a wild and unkempt aspect that hecould not possibly avoid. His beard was an unbecoming stubble that hewas powerless to shave; his hair was uncombed and a trifle long; hisclothing was not without its rents. But what an active, muscular beinghe appeared, as he moved about at his work! He seemed so thoroughlyfearless, so competent and at home with naked Nature. Histhoughtfulness, moreover, had no limits, and neither had his cheer. Hehad made no further disquieting advances, but seemed rather to haveforgotten, utterly, the lawless emotions to which he had one day givenway.

This day it was he started the fires to bake his vessels of clay. Theywere all sufficiently dry for the purpose, and, huddled together, a bitremoved, in a rudely constructed furnace made of rock, were piled aboutwith abundant fuel to provide an even heat.

The morning was sped between the various duties. Some ten or morepounds of powder Grenville finally stored in his cave. The labor ofgrinding and mixing had undergone many interruptions while he attendedthe fire about his jugs. He finally fetched some creepers from thegrowth and, stripping out the pliable cores, poured powder in severalof the hollow coverings, bound them together, here and there, withfibers, and placed them out on the rocks to dry.

With the withes thus provided to his hand, the cannon was bound uponthe log he had hollowed a bit to receive it. This he knew to be crudeand, perhaps, even quite insufficient, but the gun was, in any event,far too unwieldy for use against the tiger, unless the brute shoulddeliberately pose as a target, in the clearing down below.

That mid-day the porcupine once more volunteered for dinner. Hisservices were accepted. Grenville dispatched him with a club—andskinned him in the thicket. He was far too considerate of a woman'ssensibilities to fetch the creature into camp, with his arsenal ofspears still upon him. But the task of removing the hedgehog's hidewas amazingly difficult.

Aware of two important facts—namely, that meat too freshly cooked iscertain to be tough, while even fresh meat for three hours wrapped inpaw-paw leaves becomes incredibly tender, Grenville lost no time, whenthe skinning was done, in thoroughly swaddling his "game." He hadcarved it up for more convenient handling. When he finally brought itfor Elaine to see, it looked decidedly attractive.

"I shall save some scraps for bait," he said. "To-morrow we'll try forfish."

What with carving a number of tough, wooden hooks, preparing some linefrom various fibers, and supplying new fuel to the flames that werefiring his needed potteries, his remaining hours were full.

At length, in preparation for their dinner of meat, he went below, duga hole somewhat laboriously in the sand and earth of the clearing, andstarted another brisk fire in the hollow thus created, Elaine tossingdown a few glowing twigs for the purpose.

And how brave she looked, he paused to note, as she came to the brinkto be of this much assistance! How beautiful she was—and how delicateshe seemed, to be cast into such conditions! Despite her sturdiness ofheart and limb, she had always been tenderly reared. How far might shego, enduring this life, reduced to savagery?

These were thoughts that had come and been banished from his mindinnumerable times. There was nothing he could do to alter or evengreatly alleviate the hardships by which she was surrounded. Heraloofness from personal contact with himself, even her constantsuspicions of his motives, and her lingering indignation for what hehad done, he felt every hour of the day. But he could not have beggedher forgiveness if he would—and would not have done so if he could.

How long would it last, he asked himself—and what would be the end?Would no ship ever come—or how long might it be till succor finallyarrived? Would a search be made for the missing boat that had gone tothe bottom of the sea? Or, before this could happen, would smallercraft arrive—the strange, swift craft of these eastern waters, mannedby fanatical outlaws, pirates, or even the wild, head-hunting Dyaks,who had probably been here before?

When he finally placed his meat in the pit, where the fire had burneddown to glowing embers, his mind was filled with the many plans he wasimpatient to materialize without another half hour's delay. He coveredthe leaf-and-clay-wrapped dinner, first with portions of the coals andheated ashes, and then with all the sand he had dug to make his naturaloven, after which he returned to the terrace.

Neither the process of cooking, nor that of firing his earthenwarecould be hastened now by Grenville's presence.. He saw that hispottery furnace was properly supplied with fuel, and then sat downwhere Elaine was busily plaiting a flat sort of mat with withes she hadsomehow split to half their former size, and there he began to carve atsome slender branches of wood he had brought from down below.

"What are you making?" he presently asked, as he watched her nimblefingers at their task.

"A platter for the meat," she told him, briefly. "And what are yoursticks to become?"

"Forks for the same. I hope we shall need no knives.... I must soonfind time to dig about and, perhaps, unearth some yams. They are notso good as potatoes, but they answer at a pinch."

"You have planned so many things to accomplish," she said. "Do youthink you shall ever have the time?"

"Can't tell, but meantime I thoroughly enjoy this wresting an existencefrom more or less stubborn conditions. Just as soon as I eliminate thetiger I shall melt up my pieces of metal to make a number of tools."

Elaine looked up at the man in wonder, but not incredulously.

"What perfect confidence you seem to have in your ability to accomplishdifficult things."

His utterance sank a tone lower as he answered:

"What I say I'll do—I'll do. What I say I'll have—I'll have."

It was the first word he had spoken since their coming to the islandthat might have been construed as a survival of the feelings he haddemonstrated on the steamer.

Elaine felt her whole being suddenly burn with strange excitement. Shefelt the underlying significance of his speech, and her soul wasinstantly bristling with defiance.

His words went too deep and were uttered too gravely for any mere idleboasting. She had already seen, and partially acknowledged, the powerthat lay in this strong man's hands to compel his desired ends. Shefelt this potency emanating from him now—and resented the fact thatshe herself had been as much selected as the tiger for his ultimateconquering.

She was angry again on the instant, ready to fight like a very littledemon, should he dare so much as lay a finger on her hand. Sheresolved anew that, though a hundred years should pass before they twoescaped this island exile, not the tiniest bud of answering love shouldever sprout in her breast.

For the past few days she had felt a new sense of security and ease.The man with whom she was working out this singular and intimateexistence had made no sign of renewing his advances, had seemed toforget he had ever broached the subject of his passion, and had been amost agreeable companion, cheerful, resourceful, and courageous to thelast degree.

Now that she knew what unworthy thoughts still lingered beneath thesurface of his calm, indifferent demeanor, not even their earlierfriendship seemed to her possible again—and for this she wasdisappointed and annoyed.

Her glance had fallen instantly back to her work. That her colorburned up, to the tips of her ears for Grenville to see and, perhaps,enjoy, she felt with added irritation. But she would not confess, byword or deed, she understood the meaning of his speech.

When she spoke she employed a quiet and common-place tone of voice, andreturned to impersonal subjects.

"I can understand," she said, "how you might possibly shoot the tiger,but I thought one needed furnaces, tall chimneys, and things, to meltup bronze and brass."

"Dead right," he answered, readily. "You see, you've got such a graspon things that I never cease to be surprised—and delighted. I'veengaged quite a chimney already."

She forced herself to continue the conversation, if only by way ofignoring the personal element of his answer.

"Engaged a chimney?"

"You'll see about that, later. If getting the tiger were only half aseasy as some of the other things I expect to accomplish, I'd certainlybe tickled clean to death."

She felt—she almost knew, indeed—-that she and her love wereclassified among the things he expected to "accomplish" so easily atlast, and her hot resentment burned hotter. She was tempted to flashout her wildest cry of the loathing—the bitter, eternal loathing—hiswords had begotten in her bosom. She was tempted again to a desperatewish that the tiger might rend him in pieces—as she would do if everhe touched her again. But she dared not trust herself to speak, oreven to show, by the slightest sign, that his threat was comprehended.She clung in desperation to the subject she felt to be safe.

"Then—you do think the tiger dangerous—hard, at least, to kill?"

"Well, I wouldn't call him exactly plum pudding and gravy."

"Your cannon would kill him, though, of course?"

"If he'd pose in front of the muzzle, a rod or so away."

A cold chill crept along her nerves at thoughts of the savage animalshe herself had twice encountered. She wondered just what Grenville'smethod would be—in overcoming some of the things he had vowed toconquer.

"You hardly expect to shoot the creature, then, after all?"

He held up the fork he was carving, for critical examination.

"I'm rather inclined to favor the plan of leaving a bait in the jungle,and letting go a bomb when he comes to dine."

Her natural concern for the man's own safety could not be long expelled.

"How shall you know when he comes?" she inquired, and she dared look upas before.

Grenville continued to bend his gaze on his labor.

"I expect to hang around and see."

A sudden fear and sinking of the vitals seized her, unaware.

"But—doesn't a tiger usually feed at night?"

"His club hours are usually rather late, I believe."

"And you'll wait around for him to come in the dark?"

"What else can I do? Can't expect him to 'phone me he's arrived."

"Oh!" she said, impulsively, "couldn't we build a wall of stone aroundenough of the fruit for just ourselves? I could help at that. I'd doso gladly!"

If an exquisite thrill shot directly to the deeps of Grenville'snature—a thrill aroused by her courage, her generous spirit, herhonest and helpful sympathy—he permitted himself to make no sign.Also, he took no fulsome flattery to his soul. But he pictured herforth, with bleeding hands, and torn and grimy garments, as she rolledand carried great stones to the brink, to supply him with blocks for awall; and his spirit was wondrously glad to think he had made no errorof judgment in appraising her character.

That all she could do she would do, as mere assistance—do for anyoneelse in a similar situation, he comprehended fully. But he felt not awhit less exultant for the knowledge of the fact. She was never for amoment a mere useless dependent. She was daily, aye, hourly, assistingin his wholly unequal combat for their lives, and this was a joy to hisheart.

But he spoke with his usual bluntness, and without a single hint ofsympathy in all she had eagerly suggested.

"Wholly impractical scheme. I've thought of a dozen just as poor."

Elaine was instantly sorry she had proffered him her help. She placeda withe between her teeth, bit through it neatly, and began to divideit with her fingers.

"Here, don't do that. You'll spoil your teeth," said Grenville,brusquely. "I'll split you enough for half a day."

She made no reply as he went at the withes and split them with skillfulease, but she hoped he could feel, through some sensitive chord, howintensely she disliked him.

He could not. "I've been thinking," he said, "I may be obliged to makea loom to weave these fibers into some sort of cloth for garments. Mayneed them before we get away."

Elaine once more responded, in her honest, impulsive manner.

"I could knit some things, I'm sure, if you'd cut me a pair of needles."

"Cut 'em to-night," he answered. "That meat must be done, and mypotteries need attention."

He dropped in her lap the forks he had roughly completed, and strodeaway to his fire.

CHAPTER XIII

A MIDNIGHT VISITOR

The porcupine dinner was good. In its ball of clay, Grenville broughtit to the cave in the basket that he used for heavy burdens.

It was far too hot to be handled carelessly. And when he broke awaythe earthy covering and leaves, and arranged the steaming pieces on theplatter Elaine had prepared, it was perfectly cooked, as tender asquail, and of a flavor surprisingly fine.

The banquet, however, would have been immeasurably improved by thecommonest of bread and potatoes. To provide some palatable substitutefor these essential commonplaces of civilization became another ofGrenville's problems, which, he told himself, he must tackle—after thetiger.

Everything was after the tiger, or else over-fraught with danger. Thethought of this made Grenville fret more than anything demanding hisattention. That night, when Elaine had finally retired, he went to hisfuses, broke off a length, and returned to light it at his fire. Itwas still too damp, from the juices of the plant, to burn efficiently.His bomb he, therefore, would not make until the following afternoon.

The fire about his potteries he was now permitting to die. It couldnot be altogether abandoned, since a too sudden cooling of the vesselswould crack and ruin every one. Therefore, from time to time, he wentto the furnace to regulate the heat. He had leveled a rock for atable, at the fireplace near his cave, and on this he finally spreadthe mysterious paper and parchment recovered from the tube.

They had been all day neglected. Grenville had thoroughly intended adaylight examination of the parchment, concerning the nature of whichhe was considerably in doubt.

A new supply of whittled wooden "tablets" on which to write lay readyto his hand. Scratching at his head with his pencil, he studied thehieroglyphics for an hour or more before he returned to the writtensheet with the scrawl spelled out in cipher.

As a matter of fact, his mind refused the task on which he wasendeavoring to focus his attention. Despite his utmost efforts, histhoughts would return to Elaine. He would have given almost his hopeof eternity to secure her absolute comfort and freedom from anxiety.And, inasmuch as the tiger was responsible for much of her worry, hismind was made up that a trial should be made to slay the brute withoutanother day's delay.... It is always so easy to plan!

He was finally staring straight into the fire, though his hand stillrested on the parchment and the paper. The flames sank lower andlower, wavering finally like dull red spear-heads among the glowingembers.

At some fancied sound he turned sharply about, to peer through thedarkness of the trail. All appeared as silent and calm as the grave.He wondered if, perhaps, Elaine had arisen to come to her door.

She was not to be seen at the indistinct entrance of her cave. Heturned once more to stir his fire—then wheeled like one on a pivot.

His senses had not been deceived. Beyond, in the darkness, a few feetonly from the cavern occupied by Elaine, two blazing coals had beenfixed like twin stars by his movement.

A sudden recollection that he had failed to close the gap in the wallswept hotly and accusingly through him. Some beast of the jungle hadpassed the barrier, perhaps to enter the very cave that the wall hadbeen built to protect!

With a note that broke the stillness abruptly, Grenville caught up aflaming branch of wood from the mass of embers in the fire, and sprangto the path to the cavern.

The prowling animal stood for a moment undecided, then started as if tospring before the oncoming man to the shelter of Elaine's rock retreat,doubtless to turn there in desperation for a mad encounter in the dark.

But, perhaps by a yard, the man was there before him. The brute, eventhen, refused to retreat towards the trail by which it had come. Itleaped towards the place where Grenville made his bed—a shadowy formthat he knew at last was not the arrogant tiger.

It turned for a moment in the mouth of the cave, as if aware thissmaller retreat was too shallow for adequate shelter. But before theman could crack his fiery brand upon the creature's head, it leapedwildly past him, growling a savage protest, and reluctantly retreatedtowards the trail.

One more attempt it made, even then, to escape by Grenville's activeform, and regain the larger cavern. But his fierce, hot rushes werenot to be withstood. It finally turned with another sort of bellow,and cowered uncertainly upon the downward path.

After it no less desperately than before, Sidney plunged along thesteep descent, his firebrand brightly glowing in the wind. A whine offear escaped the jungle creature as he slunk at last throughGrenville's gate to the outer precincts of the wall.

Almost immediately followed a frightful din of growls and wauling.There were certain deep gutturals and mouthings that Grenville was surehis tiger only could produce. There were sounds of a conflict, fierceand bloody, retreating down the trail. Like a battle of cats,enormously exaggerated, with screams and roars intermingled, thedisturbance rose on the air. But Grenville had blocked his gate withlogs and bowlders, and calmly returned to his place.

Elaine was crouching by the fire when he came once more to the terrace.She had called him in vain, and was visibly trembling as his formappeared within the glow.

"What was it?" she cried. "What has happened?"

"Why—it sounds like a couple of jungle politicians engaged in a tariffargument."

"You weren't down there?"

"I strolled to the wall, to make sure it was closed for the night."

"There was nothing—up here? I dreamed there was something—fightingwith you—some terrible creature—like that."

She waved her hand towards the hideous sounds, retreating swiftly inthe darkness.

"Can't understand such a dream," he said. "We've had no corned beefand cabbage. You'd better go back and try again."

He started at once for his pottery fire, in his brusque, indifferentmanner.

Elaine stood there, watching his figure, retreating in the darkness,and made no move to retire. Like a dim silhouette of Vulcan, projectedagainst the reddened glare of his furnace, he presently appeared, fromthe place where she eagerly kept him in her vision. She felt she couldnot bear to creep away until he should return.

She saw him stand for a little time observing his waning heaps ofembers before he faced about to return once more to his seat. Then,slowly, as she heard his footsteps approaching, she glided silentlyback to her shelter, and so at length within the door. Even then shelingered eagerly, to make certain he was not far away. Until he satdown, and stirred up the flames, she did not return to her couch.

"To be so perfectly fearless!" she murmured, half aloud, and so creptaway to her dark, uncomfortable cave.

Grenville pocketed the documents, still lying face up on his rock. Hefinally slept beside the fire, to finish his plans in dreams.

These plans, which were vague enough that night, matured fairly earlyin the morning. He had resolved to try for the tiger at the spring.

Fully expecting to encounter abundant signs of the animal conflict ofthe midnight hours, he descended the trail before Elaine had appeared,intent upon removing such evidence of trouble as might be founddisturbingly near their tower.

There was nothing at all along the trail to show that a fight had takenplace. Where the grass and shrubbery began in the clearing below thewalls, there was one mere tuft of hair upon a twig. But a rod removedfrom this there was at least a hint as to what might have caused theengagement.

This was a trampled and slightly reddened ring where something had beeneaten—some quarry doubtless captured by the smaller of the prowlers,who had found himself suddenly attacked and driven from the feast bythe master hunter of the jungle, on whose sacred preserves he hadprobably dared to poach.

Grenville proceeded to the spring, not only to fetch a fresh supply ofwater, but as well to indulge in a vigorous washing of his hands andface, and to make some observations.

He found that by breaking several limbs a none too comfortable seat inthe branches of a rubber tree might be prepared, provided he couldclimb to the perch. With a very long fuse attached to his bomb hemight be enabled to execute a coup upon the tiger, under cover of thenight. Could he only slay some animal—another wild hog, forinstance—and place it here as a lure, his chances of securing thetiger's attendance would be infinitely increased.

A number of things were essential to his plan. The first, a ropeladder, was the simplest of the lot. That he could fashion with ease.His greatest problem was the fire with which to ignite his fuse, shouldhe wish to explode his bomb. The wood he had found, that so amazinglyretained its glow, might answer his needs for, perhaps, two hours, ashe sat high up in the tree. It was all he possessed, and upon it hemust needs rely. But how he should manage to discern his beast, in thedarkness, when the prowler came at last to drink, was more than hecould determine.

"A dead-fall might do for the brute," he soliloquized aloud, as thebusiness revolved in his mind. "But I couldn't get one ready byto-night."

For several reasons a dead-fall was impracticable. The thought was,therefore, abandoned, while the details of loading and placing the bombwere elaborately planned. So vivid was Grenville's imagination thatalready he pictured himself high in the tree, heard the tiger come tolap the water, lighted his fuse—and ended that trouble forever.

CHAPTER XIV

TRUANTS OUT OF SCHOOL

He returned to the terrace, lightly whistling. The morning wasperfect, a delightfully refreshing zephyr lightly stirring in thetrees. Elaine beheld him approaching, and nodded from the cliff.

"The jugs look beautiful!" she called, enthusiastically. "The fire isbarely warm."

He had brought their supply of water in the sea-shell, so variouslyemployed. Before providing fruits for their breakfast, he went to hisfurnace with Elaine. The firing was complete, though the vessels werenot yet cool. A few were cracked, slightly, despite the care thatGrenville had exercised, and one was hopelessly ruined. However, hefelt the product as a whole was surprisingly satisfactory, especiallysome of his molds and the crucibles meant for his foundry.

"At noon we'll fill a jug with water," he said, "and you'll find itwill keep surprisingly cool. The clay is slightly porous. The wateroozes through, evaporates on the surface, and thereby chills thecontents. They use nothing else in Egypt, and, I think, in Mexico.

"If it weren't for the tiger," said Elaine, "I could often go to thespring."

"Right ho!" said Grenville, cheerily, believing he understood a wishthat lay beneath her speech. "That reminds me. I believe I couldmanage to deepen a basin I saw in the rock on our lowermost shelf abovethe sea, back yonder, and easily fill it by dipping salt water with ajug on the end of a rope. Any nymph should enjoy such a pool."

"Oh!" said Elaine, delighted by the thought; "do you really think youcould make it?"

"Well—I've thought of it, you see, on an empty stomach. Afterbreakfast—— There's quite a bit to do, by the way, after breakfast."

With the fruits now presently gathered, he brought a fresh supply ofcreepers and leaves of the sisal, for labors soon to begin. And whileElaine prepared what was left of the meat, and the other thingsafforded by their larder, he went to the shelf of rock so completelyprotected by its wall, and made up his mind that, with one good tool,plus a hammer, he could hew out a bath with amazingly little trouble.

"Meant to go fishing this morning!" he confessed, as the sight of theclear, limpid tide below aroused new desires in his being. "There mustbe oysters and many good fish, if I had the time to get them."

Fish-lines and other "diversions" were again postponed when thebreakfast was concluded, while Grenville braided fibers and tied stoutrungs along their length, to form a rude sort of ladder. This hecarried to the spring at length, and hung across the limb of his treeby lifting its end on a pole.

Once in the tree, he labored diligently, breaking or cutting away anumber of interfering branches, and arranging a makeshift for a seat,on which to rest as he waited. The bomb would be better prepared inthe afternoon.

On his way, returning to the camp, he gathered a bundle of the specialwood that he used to retain his fire. It was while he was thusengaged, in an unexplored part of the thicket, that he came upon afallen tree, fairly brittle with resin. He snapped off branch afterbranch of this, till his load was too heavy to carry. With all hecould take he climbed the trail.

A piece that he tried at the embers of his fire blazed promptly enough,producing a volume of thick, black smoke, and a flame that burnedslowly down the wood, as he held the lighted end aloft.

"If we happen to need a torch," he said to Elaine, who, as usual, waswatching results, "this will always be stored here, ready." He placedthe fa*gots in a near-by hollow of the rocks, against possible futureneed.

There was nothing further to be done at the spring until the hour ofsunset. The jugs and vessels from the furnace were found to besufficiently cool for handling, and were brought to the rear of hisshelter.

The molds he had made excited anew his various ambitions.

"To-morrow I shall start operations on the smelter," he told hiscompanion. "No tools means no boat—and no boat means no escape."

Elaine felt a bound of excitement in her veins at the mere suggestionof escape. She inquired: "How long will it take to build your boat?"

"Can't tell," said Grenville, briefly. "Never built one on a toollessisland before."

"I only meant about how long," Elaine explained. "It will take atleast a week, I suppose."

"More likely two," he answered, as before. "Meantime I'm goingfishing. Want to come?"

Elaine had little liking for any such off-hand invitation.

"Not at present, thank you." She turned away from him, coldly.

"It's an art and a sport you ought to cultivate," he informed her,cheerfully. "Might sometime keep you from starving." He gathered upthe necessary paraphernalia, adding, "I hope the fish will bite," andstarted on his way.

He had fully two hundred feet of the line he had braided from fibers.It was thoroughly "waxed" with juices from the rubber tree, andalthough it was frequently knotted along its length, it was strong as awire, and not inclined to kink.

His wooden hook was clumsy, but tough as steel, while its point and itsbarb were exceedingly sharp. Also, the bait he thrust upon itconcealed it well, except where the line was stoutly attached. Withone of his old rusted hinges for a sinker, it was presently ready foruse.

He had chosen that protected shelf of rock whereon he meant to hew outa bath for Elaine, since this was the nearest possible approach hecould make to the water from the cliff. There, alas! at the very firstcast attempted, his line was atrociously tangled, while the hookremained suspended some ten feet up from the tide.

In patience he sat himself down on the ledge to restore the line toorder. Elaine, who had doubtless pondered wisely on his observation,anent fishing as an art to be acquired, came half reluctantly wanderingover to his side, while Grenville was still engrossed with his mess oftangles. She watched him in silence for a time, then, finally, sank tothe bench of rock and began to lend her assistance. He made not theslightest comment, and even failed to thank her when the task wasfinally concluded.

Once again, at last, he swung the line for a cast far out in thewaters. It seemed to Elaine the hook and sinker would never ceasesailing outward. Yet they fell and sank, much closer in than evenGrenville had expected.

He began to pull it back at once, since there might be rocks on whichthe hook would foul, and his labor be wholly lost. The sinker, andthen the bait, emerged from the crystal depths of brine without so muchas a nibble. Again Grenville sent them full length out, and again drewin with no results, save a possible inquiry, far below, where hefancied he saw a gleam of silver.

The third cast fared no better than the others. But the fourth was nomore than started homeward when a sharp, heavy strike was brisklyreported on the line, and Grenville's jerk responded.

"Oh! you've got one!—you've got one!" cried Elaine, with all the truepleasure of a sportsman. "Please, please don't let it get away!"

Grenville was taking no chances on slack in the line, with his simplewooden hook. He hauled in, hand over fist, while his catch foughtmadly to escape. With a wild inward dash and a mighty flop, thesilvery captive on the barb leaped entirely out of the water.

Grenville's answering maneuver with the line, snatching up fully a yardof its length, and instantly stooping to clutch it low again, was allthat saved the situation. His fish barely touched the surface, afterthat, then was swiftly sailing up in air.

He was a beautiful specimen of his kind, but the species was new to hiscaptor.

"What's the use of going to school?" was Grenville's query, his eyes asbright as a boy's. "The next one may be a whale."

The next one, however, was a long time coming. When it was hooked, thewise fisherman knew it was small, and, most unexpectedly, he deliveredthe line to Elaine.

"Now, then, give him the dickens!" he instructed. "You want to makehim think he's struck by lightning."

Surprised as she was, and unprepared for this particular favor, Elainedid her best, and hauled in valiantly, but the captive got away.

Five or six casts were made after that before the hook was once morenibbled. Grenville was rather inclined to change for a spot morepopular with the purple water's tribe. Yet he made another of hislongest throws, and had drawn in much of the dripping line when a cleanyoung tortoise so deeply swallowed the hook that he could not have spatit out to save him.

The fight he offered was tremendous. He dived and skittered throughthe crystal tides like some giant saucer of dynamics. Whole lines ofthe brightest silver bubbles arose as he visibly flapped about andscuttled towards the bottom. The line raced wildly here and there,cutting the waves with the sound of something hot and sizzling.

But it held for a full half hour of fighting. It was strong enough forthe weight of a man, as Grenville afterward declared. It conquered thetortoise finally, and drew him up, but not before he had wearied thefisherman's muscles and greatly fatigued Elaine, who was panting withsheer excitement.

"There you are," said Grenville, boyishly exultant, "he's wash basin,comb, a few hairpins, and what-not, all in one, not to mention turtlesoup."

There was no more fishing done that afternoon, nor were knittingneedles carved. What with his turtle, his fish, the digging of severalyams, and the making of his bomb, Grenville was amply employed.

Elaine was at length made acquainted with his programme for the night.She made no effort to dissuade him from his purpose, but excitementrose in her bosom. She feared for what the tiger might by mischanceaccomplish, and, also, she felt that in some occult way her own fateand the animal's were alike, if not related—that if such a brute musthelplessly succumb to the man's superior prowess, there was no chanceat all for anything as feeble as herself.

A wild, unreasoning hope was in her breast that the tiger might escape,or die in some different manner—do something, almost anything, ratherthan contribute one more testimony to Sidney Grenville's might. Shecould not wish the creature to live, nor yet to injure this bold,audacious man. She only knew that some dread of the being who coulddare engage or attack this savage monster of the jungle was once moreassailing her quaking heart and stirring her nature to rebellion.

In a manner that was largely automatic, she assisted in providing anearly evening meal. It was dusk, however, when Grenville was finallyready to leave her on the hill.

She followed him down to the gate against the wall, in the way of achild who fears long hours alone.

"Good-night," he said to her, cheerily. "If you hear my littleimitation of Bunker Hill—you might drop one tear for the departed."

Her dread of the night, and the outcome of his excursion, had suddenlyincreased. "If you kill him," she said, "you'll come home?"

He nodded. "Tickled to death and bragging like a pirate."

Then he placed the logs and rocks against the barrier, and once morebade her good-night. She waited till his final footsteps died away inthe gloom, then hastened once more to the brink above for a finalglimpse of his form.

He had passed, however, across the clearing, and not even the sparkthat he bore to the gathering darkness threw her back a dull red ray.

He had lost little time after leaving the foot of the trail. Thejungle was wrapped in somber shadows as he made his way to the spring.

Some nimble little creature leaped lightly away when he came to theplace. Otherwise there was not a sign or a sound to disturb theringing silence. His bomb he placed beside the ebon water, where aledge of rock would throw its violence outward. The fuse, which hecarefully uncoiled and laid upon the grass, was amply long to meet hisneeds.

At length, with his fire-stick held between his teeth, he ascended theladder to his perch. The end of the fuse he now brought to the limb,conveniently near for lighting. Then he settled himself to wait.

Once he blew on the coal slowly eating his brand, to clean theincandescent cone. Of a sudden, then, he heard the sound of somethingdirectly beneath him, rudely brushing the foliage aside.

His heart for a second stood still.

CHAPTER XV

A NIGHT IN THE JUNGLE

It was not the tiger Grenville heard above the pounding of his heart.

The squealing of some little insignificant beast, apparently more insport than apprehension, betrayed very soon the fact that no sinistervisitor was even prowling near. So heavy a sound as the little brutehad made would doubtless be avoided when the master of the jungleshould arrive.

All the excitement unduly engendered in Grenville's system rapidlysubsided. He listened as intently as before, and peered below in aneffort to pierce the densest shadows, but could not detect the form orwhereabouts of his early visitor. He doubted if this small creaturedrank, since the pool of the spring was still quite clearly visible,like a surface half of ebony and half of tarnished silver.

At length the absolute silence prevailed as it had before. Save forthe lightest of zephyrs, that barely sufficed to fan the topmostfoliage, not even the slightest stir could be detected. The darknessbelow became absolute, where shadows, tree-trunks, and thicket allblended into one. A portion only of the pool was now discernible, andin this, clearly mirrored, were two bright stars, that burned dull goldin the ebon.

Grenville sat back in his lumpy perch and blew, as before, on his coal.Its slender wreath of invisible smoke ascended pungently. The hour wasstill very early for nocturnal business to begin. The tiger might notcome till midnight. Sidney reflected that the brute would doubtlesseat before a drink would be desired.

He regretted, vainly, that no bait had finally been provided. Even thefish they had only partially eaten for dinner might have beenattractive to the tiger. Any price now would be cheap enough to ridthemselves of this terror.

His reflections ran the gamut of their island world, and sped far overseas. He thought of that day with Fenton, and of what this friendwould think. Had they heard the news, in that far-away home, of thesteamer gone down with every soul?

He thought of the morning he had greeted Elaine—and the something thathad happened to his nature. He remembered in detail every hour ofevery day they had spent together on the steamer. Then the hideousdetails of all that last experience, in the storm and night, paraded byfor his review.

One after another the swiftly moving procession of events brought himback to this present hour. He was, then, confronted once again by thequestions—how long would it last?—how might it end? The island'smystery impinged once more on his varied cogitations, making him wishhe might have had a torch, by which to study the documents reposing inhis pocket.

Mentally picturing forth the signs on the leathery piece of parchment,he busied himself for above an hour for a clew as to what they couldmean. They suggested nothing to his mind that made the slightestsense. He tried to recall the characters on the "explanatory" sheet.But this was a hopeless task.

Aware of the value of deduction, he began on a reasoning line.Anything to occupy his thoughts and time till the hour when the tigermight have fed, and would come for his evening drink, was highlywelcome.

He began by a natural presumption that both the documents, foundtogether in the tube, and so carefully concealed, related to thisparticular island. Did they not, then of what possible value would betheir final decipherment and solution?

Granting this premise, then what should follow next? Certainly somemention of the island—with its name—in the written message, at least.There would naturally be, in these circ*mstances, some word in thecipher spelling "Island"—but what would the place be called?

Such places, he knew, were frequently named quite unofficially, bywandering sailors, adventurers, and drifters on the sea. Attempting tolevel his state of mind to that of such human beings, he wondered whathe, if left to himself, would christen this bit of rock and jungle.

So often, he reflected, a place was named for its appearance. Thisone, for instance, might aptly be called "Three Rocks," "Three Walls,"or "Three Towers." He remembered, finally, the abominable soundsproduced by the tides twice daily—sounds he had thought might havefrightened the natives away. The cognomen, "Haunted Island," might notseem wholly inappropriate to a superstitious mind.

The more he reflected, the more certain he felt that some one of thenames suggested to his mind might also have occurred to those ofothers. Considerably aroused in his centers of curiosity, andconvinced that even by the dull cherry glow of his firebrand he mightbe enabled to confirm or confute his theory, he moved sufficiently todraw from his pocket the closely folded documents, and held them up tohis torch.

The one with the inexplicable signs he promptly returned as of noimmediate avail. At that instant his attention was arrested, by asound below him on the earth.

Something, he thought, was lapping at the water!

He leaned far forward, tense and rigid on the limb, shielding his sparkin one of his hands, while he peered about the pool.

There was nothing he could possibly discern—no form of a headprojected out to obliterate his stars. Yet the sounds at the edge ofthe silent basin rose distinctly to his ears.

All but ready to bend to the end of his fuse, and touch his fire uponit, he paused, looked closer, saw ripples move to disturb his mirroredplanets—and then beheld some form darkly limned on the waters.

For a moment he was certain his insolent tiger was there. Some hugeblunt muzzle seemed inkily contrasted with the dull gray surface of thespring. Then the muzzle suddenly detached itself from the imaginedform behind. The entire figure of some little beast was seen as itwaded the pool.

Once more, disgustedly, Grenville reclined and relaxed the strain onhis nerves. It was some time, then, before he thought to return to hisquest of the cipher. He remembered, finally, he had meant to count thecharacters in some of the words to see if the number of signs thus usedmight not correspond with the number employed in "Island," "Three,""Haunted," "Wall," or "Tower."

A dull red glow, of most unsatisfactory dimensions and illuminativecapacity, was the most he could procure from his brand. It barelysufficed to present the "writing" to his vision. For a moment, indeed,he despaired of discriminating clearly between the ending of one wordand the beginning of the next. Fortunately, however, the writer hadused large periods between his every word.

Considerably to Grenville's satisfaction, the third word thus denotedhe was almost convinced was "Three." Not only had it the proper numberof letters, or signs, but the two final characters were exactly alike,and both were the crosses he had previously selected as probablyrepresenting E.

The next word along, he was equally certain, was either "Wall" or"Hill." Its two final characters were the same particular signrepeated, while its meaning, in conjunction with the preceding word"Three," fulfilled his logical deduction.

A word of two characters followed this, and then, to Grenville'sintense delight, occurred a word of seven letters, which not only metthe numerical requirements of "Haunted," but, also, in proper sequence,employed the various letter-signs already somewhat proved by the wordhe felt certain was "Three."

This was more than sufficient evidence on which to base a test of themessage's sense, if it were not, indeed, enough of a key with which todecipher the entire inscription.

Eagerly fumbling in his pocket for his pencil, with the intention ofattempting a bit of substitution of letters for the signs containedupon the sheet, Grenville shifted his position—and the paper fell fromhis fingers, fluttering obliquely from his sight.

He leaned quickly forward, as if to follow the flight of the missivethrough the darkness so densely spread beneath him. But it disappearedalmost instantly—with its mystery still unsolved.

On the point of descending, at whatever cost, to recover the importantbit of foolscap, Sidney was halted in movement and impulse by some newarrival at the spring.

As a matter of fact, two animals were there, as he presentlydiscovered. That neither was his tiger he was presently persuaded, butthat one or both were fairly large seemed equally assured.

It was certainly not a time to leave the tree. And while thereflection that, perhaps, the silent visitors were leopards waspresented to Grenville's mind, and a momentary thought of slaying thepair by igniting his fuse became a strong temptation, he contentedhimself by staring more or less blindly down upon the place where theyseemed to be, and bided his time as before.

At nine o'clock it seemed, to the cramped and impatient hunter in thetree, that ages had passed since he bade good-night to Elaine and cameto this lonely vigil. There were sounds in abundance about him now,arising from time to time. Some were the cries of the lesser beasts,in the clutches or jaws of their captors; some were sounds of munching.All of them indicated rather grimly the tiger's absence from the scene.There would be no petty murderers thereabout when the arch brute camefor his drink.

Leaning back once more, and long since weary of his fruitlessadventure, Grenville stared at the glowing cone of fire slowly eatingaway his brand. It was lasting far longer than he had believed wouldbe possible—yet certainly less than one hour more could the consumingsubstance serve to give him a spark.

He could almost fancy he saw a face, in the film of ash upon itssurface. He was sure the face was developing a likeness to Elaine.Even the soft clear radiance of her cheek—— How eagerly she hadasked concerning his coming "home"—but how far it seemed away.... Hecould hear her saying "You'll come home ... come home ... come back...."

He awoke with a start, for something had burned him on the wrist.

The firebrand, all but consumed in his relaxing fingers, had droppedand deposited a blister. In his sudden move to rid himself of thetorture to his flesh, he threw off the red-hot candle of wood, and itfell straight downward, sizzling once where it struck in a trickle ofthe water.

Reviling himself for a stupid blunderer, and arousing vividly to asense of where he was, and why, he began to question the expediency ofreturning at once to the terrace. He was still debating the wisdom ofthe move, when the question was decided by the tiger.

That belated midnight reveler—the old roué of the jungle—was usheredin with questionable pomp—the panic of lesser brutes in flight. Andwhen he drank, beside the useless bomb, there was no mistaking hispresence. He presently paused, half satisfied, and lifted his head,against the shudder of the water, to sniff at the jungle breeze.

The wind had betrayed the presence of the man, and the great brutevoiced his satisfaction.

CHAPTER XVI

A DEAD MAN'S SECRET

That was a long, weird night in the jungle.

What hour it was the tiger finally departed was more than Grenvillecould have told. And whether the daylight, finally approaching, or aroyal disgust, or some easily captured morsel, had served to urge thebrute upon his way, was equally unknown.

Grenville descended from his perch at last, when the palms and fernshad darkly emerged from the velvety blackness of the thicket. He tookup his club, left the bomb in its place, and, searching about,recovered the sheet of parchment dropped in the darkness. Aware thatthe silently moving enemy might still be lurking by the pathway, hemade his way no less boldly from the shadows, and came duly to the hill.

His chagrin was complete when he told Elaine that his night had beenspent in vain. She had scarcely slept, as he could see, for her facewas still pale with worry, while her eyes showed her lack of rest.

"I shall try again to-night," he said, but from that he was dissuaded.

The strain was too great upon Elaine, if not upon himself. Hepresently promised to wait a day, and see what might develop. He couldnot subject his companion to another such session of agonizing worry asElaine had undergone until he felt more certain of results.

But to wait a day in idleness, while he felt that every hour thatpassed might bring new dangers upon them, could scarcely accord withhis intentions.

He declared the tiger an arrant coward, who dared not confront him inthe day.

"We have faced far greater perils than this," he told her, as they atetheir simple breakfast, "and we may be called upon to face the likeagain. We're enormously fortunate to have nothing more than thisstriped beast to limit our freedom on the island."

Elaine could have thought of countless other animals, including snakes,that would amply curtail her roaming inclinations, but she was not inthe least in the habit of rehearsing her many dreads.

Grenville went promptly to work, after breakfast, fetching clay in thebasket from the pit. It was not brought up to the terrace, but dumpedin a heap beside the hollow tree, in the burned space under the walls.This tree, he at last explained to Elaine, he intended to use as asmelter.

"It's a natural chimney I've annexed," was the way he presented theproblem. "If I built a fire in it now, however, it would burn, and bedestroyed. I intend to line it with clay—plaster it on, inside, someeight or ten feet high. Then when this fire-resisting substance dries,I can smelt my metal and run it in the molds. The draught will make aprodigious heat—far more than brass requires."

"I see," said Elaine. "Meantime I am utterly idle."

"I'll cut you those needles. You can knit," he said, "unless youprefer to go fishing."

He had come to the camp for one of the jugs in which to carry water forthe clay. This task was temporarily abandoned while he sat in theshade, beside Elaine, and carved out the promised tools. These weremade of wood, instead of bone, since the latter material was far toohard for his fragment of a blade, and one of the woods provided by thejungle was so straightly grained and elastic, that even a slendersplinter would bend like steel before it broke.

For a short time after they were finished, he sat there to watch thecraft displayed by Elaine's nimble fingers, as a slender bit of thefiber stuff began to accumulate in stitches.

"You were made for a home-builder's mate," he said, and arose and lefther to her thoughts, and to certain inflammable emotions.

He carried his jug down the trail and to the spring, resuming thebusiness in hand. The sight of the pool not only served to arouse hisdisgust anew, but he was likewise reminded of the documents, reposingstill unread in his pocket. The bomb, he knew, should be carried backto camp, lest the fuse become dampened in the thicket. With this andhis jug full of water, he hastened back to the foot of the trail—andforgot them both forthwith.

The half sheet of paper, readable at last, had enslaved him then andthere.

He sat on a rock, with the paper on his knee, and was lost to allthings else.

For a moment he thought, perhaps, he had dreamed of obtaining the keyto the hidden message. But one hurried glance at the words he had readconvinced him the trick had been done.

On the back of the sheet he began at once to jot down the signs ofwhich he felt most certain. The results, as he made them, were these:

The next word, according to his deductions, should be "Island." This,he felt, was indisputably confirmed by the fact it contained preciselythe required number of "letters," with the sign for L, A, and D,already discovered, occupying their proper positions. He, therefore,added:

to his growing collection of letters, and promptly produced thefollowing results by the process of substitution:

There could be so little doubt, after that, concerning such words as"Under," "High," "Important," and "Water," which supplied thecharacters, U, G, M, P, W, and O, which was also suggested in "Or,"before "Haunted," that a bit of additional substitution very promptlycleared the entire affair.

Grenville jotted it down, to make sense, in the following fashion:

"Under tree, Three-Hill, or Haunted Island, Cave. Get in (during) highwater (in) Spring time when noise loud. Important. Make no mistake.Map on Buli shows same."

The one word which he felt to be doubtful was "Buli," which, heconfessed, might as readily be "Zuli," "Juli," or "Quli," but this wasof no significance, one way or another. Its meaning was still obscure.

There were several things in the message or statement, however, thatconfirmed his earlier uneasiness. The principal of these was thestatement that it was important for the possible seekers of some cavernunder the greater wall of rock to visit the island only during the timewhen the hideously haunting sounds were at their height. This argued,he thought, that the sounds would finally subside, or altogether cease,when complications—doubtless in the form of visitors—might beexpected to develop.

That the visitors would be natives and, probably, Dyaks, Grenvillecould have no doubt. As to what there was in the cave beneath therock, he had small curiosity only, since it was hardly likely suchtools as he desired would be so concealed from a prying world, andtools alone had value for him now.

He could not doubt, however, that something there was in the cave heredescribed, for which men had risked their lives. He thought of theheadless skeletons, and then of the mummy in chains.

Suddenly, at thought of that guardian of the barque, his heart gave anadded leap. He snatched from his pocket the parchment referred to as amap. He could instantly see, by the light of day, that the leatherysubstance was leather, indeed, of the most grewsomely repellentdescription! It was simply tanned human skin!

And abruptly he understood that phrase—"Map on Buli shows same." Thepyramids represented the island's three great hills, and other signsthe cave. The pole with a knob, on the tallest hill, was the tree sonear his camp.

Aye, the thing was a map in very truth—and once it had been ON Buli!For Buli was he who sat in the barque, chained fast to prevent hisescape!

This map he had borne, tattooed on his breast, from which it hadfinally been stripped!

CHAPTER XVII

FEVERISH EMPLOYMENTS HALTED

A species of horror attacked the man on whom the truth had flashed.What abominable cruelties and crimes lay back of the business thusfinally to some extent revealed, he could only faintly imagine.

He felt quite certain of one or two things, that were not to be told toElaine. First, he could not for a moment doubt that the barque hadbeen brought to the island with the sole intent and purpose of lootingthe cave of treasure. He was equally convinced its crew had beenfoully slaughtered—and their heads removed. This smacked of Dyakatrocities. Finally, there was ample evidence that men of some sorthad visited the island long since the wreck was stranded, and probablywithin the year.

He had not required the warning made "important" on the sheet to urgehim to haste in preparing a boat with which to attempt an escape. Tolearn that the haunting sounds of the tide would at length subside wasa new and disquieting addition to what he had previously deduced. Hehad accurately hit upon the natives' superstitious awe of the sounds toaccount for the island's desertion.

How long these invaluable shrieks and moans might be counted upon tocontinue became a vital question. Could they only last till a boatcould be completed, launched, provisioned, and directed away to a saferretreat, he would ask for nothing more.

He returned again to an inspection of the "map"—now singularly plain.The island was graphically represented by the three conventional"hills," with the sign for water inscribed at either end. The tree, soconspicuous upon the tallest wall of rock, was no less vividlyportrayed.

Below this identifying picture of the place the hill with the tree wasrepeated, with the cave and design for water, while just to the rightthe detail of the cavern, with more water signs, indicating both highand low tide, was depicted somewhat enlarged. The cartouch was not soreadily comprehended. Grenville was inclined to believe it spelledsome crude king's name, while the scarab, or beetle, was, of course, anold Egyptian symbol concerned with life and death.

It would hardly have been human of Grenville not to wonder about thecave or to contemplate a visit there—just to have the merest lookabout the place. He even went so far as to wonder if its entrancemight not be effected from the upper brink, by means of a longer ropeladder than the one he had already made.

He did not, however, seriously contemplate delaying affairs moreimportant to gratify this whim. Indeed, he was fired with newimpatience to work night and day against the hour of escape. Thethought put him back on his feet, then and there, with the documentsstored away. There was no time to lose—not a moment—not even to foolwith the tiger!

He left his bomb and its fuse upon the rocks, and carried the water tohis clay. To line his hollow-tree furnace as promptly as possible mustbe his first concern. No boat could be made without suitable tools,and—— He wondered how he should make it, even then.

The log he had found on the day they arrived was such a huge affair toattack with the implements his limited craft made possible, despite allthe bronze he could melt. And yet, without it, he was helpless. Theraft was far too clumsy for propulsion. It afforded practicallynothing transformable into a boat, as he had no nails, no saw, noanything with which it might be first dismembered, and finallyreconstructed.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed to himself, aloud, as a new thought creptsubtly to his brain. "I can hollow the log with fire!"

He went at once to the straight and ample tree-trunk, lying proppedupon a rock. Its ends had already been partially consumed, and therebyrounded, in the flames that had ravaged the place. How he could coversuch parts as he must not burn with a plaster of his clay, Grenvilleinstantly conceived. And there was the log already lifted away fromthe earth, for the fire to be kindled beneath!

The wisdom of starting this process at once, even before his tools weremade, was immediately apparent. Back to his clay heap he hastenedeagerly, and, pawing it over to form a hollow pyramid, he poured in thewater to soak through the mass, and so make it soft enough to use.

A new, unsparing spasm of labor seized the man in that hour, and heworked unremittingly. He felt he had loafed away his time whichimportant requirements demanded.

The task of digging the clay from the pit and fetching it up to hishollow tree in the basket, made of creepers, was interminable. Thesticks and wooden "spades" he had managed to fashion, not only brokefrom over-use and straining, but they were dull and heavy and awkward.The basket was scarcely more convenient than the implements infulfilling its simple function. He could manage to carry its weightupon his head, but at this he had meager skill.

For three days he worked to get the clay, or to work it up and apply itwith his hands. A considerable portion of the fallen log was thusquite promptly covered. He had then to wait for the clay to dry beforehis fire could be ignited.

The supply of clay he had managed to amass was clearly insufficient.He paused, on one of those warm and breathless afternoons, to set anumber of traps in the animal pathways, and construct an awning forElaine. This was merely a structure before her cave, to support a roofof leaves and grasses. It afforded a shade, however, that wasexceedingly grateful.

There were numerous interruptions, also, for procuring meat and fruits.Grenville had brought down a pheasant with the last of his tworemaining arrows. And not even a quill, supplied by the wings, hadblown away from his "store." He had cut new shafts by his eveningfire, and tipped them with points of sharpened wood. Elaine hadfeathered them skillfully, after once being properly directed.

Not a sign, all this time, had Grenville seen of the tiger, stillhaunting the jungle. He had been too industriously engrossed, eitherto wonder or to care where the brute had recently been lurking.

On the fourth warm morning of his toil about the furnace, the remindercame home with a jolt. Some few yards away from the clay pit's edgelay the master murderer's kill. It was part of a freshly eaten boar.

Grenville was neither revolted nor angered by the sight. He wassuddenly excited with a new hope of getting a certain robe to lay atthe feet of Elaine. It never occurred to his eager mind that the brutewho bore it might be lying near, in a mood to resent his intrusionhere, where the kingly banquet had been left for a sitting again thatnight.

His first concern was to keep away, as far as possible, lest the smellof his boots offend the lordly brute when he finally returned.Meantime such preparations as the scene made possible must not beunduly delayed.

The trees above the reddened spot afforded more choice for hisnecessary perch than he had found on the previous occasion. He rapidlysketched his plans for the night with mental notes and observations.Where the bomb could lie, to prove most efficacious, and still at thesame time offer no great menace to himself, was readily determined.The ladder required for ascending to his stand would better be hung onthe side most removed from the trail, for which he must a little clearthe thicket.

His club, without which the visit here at sunset was not to beundertaken, could lean on the tree-trunk while he sat above, sincethere, should any need arise, he could find it in the dark.

He abandoned all thought of treading back and forth from the clay pitto his smelter, and carried his basket away. The ladder he brought atonce from the spring, and, expending an hour in more carefulpreparation for his comfort than had even been possible before, hefinally departed from the site of the tiger's gory refreshment, wellsatisfied with all he had been able to accomplish.

He returned to the camp, made a careful examination of the bomb and itsfuse, and selected the wood to be finally used in preserving hisessential spark of fire. Then, willing at last to turn his attentionagain to his daily occupation, he once more descended to hisclay-covered log and found the plaster sufficiently dry upon it for thefirst of the burning to be started. He called to Elaine, who threw himdown some glowing embers, from the fire always burning near his shelter.

All day he found abundant employment, working with flame and clay. Theeating away of the log in a manner to leave a hollow shell, could not,he found, be accomplished as swiftly as he had hoped. Moreover, thefires required his constant attention, lest they burn too deeply toright or left, and thus destroy, or considerably impair, the walls hedesired to protect.

In the afternoon he permitted this fire to die. Until more clay couldbe plastered about and the blackly charred portions of the wood removedwith a tool, the process must be halted. He had still a small sectioninside his natural smelter to cover before he could undertake themelting of his metal, but his heap of clay was gone.

Once more, as he had on the previous occasion, he informed Elaine inthe late afternoon of his intentions for the night. Her look of alarmwas the only sign that escaped her resolute being. She had silentlynoted his earlier activity with the bomb and his fire-preserving wood;she was not surprised by his plans.

"I shall not be down at the spring," he said, "but over there nearerthe clay pit. I have found a place where I rather expect our friend toarrive at a decently early hour."

Her eyes were startled and wide.

"Do you mean he sleeps where you have been walking every day?"

"No—certainly not. But I'm sure he was there last night—and I hopehe'll come again."

She was quick to divine the unpleasant truth that Grenville wasstriving to avoid.

"You mean—he's been eating there—and left some awful——"

"Good pork," he agreed, as he took up his bomb; "a fine wildboar—enough to have done us for a week."

She resumed her work of knitting, on a small, round basket-like affair.

"I hope there are more of those hogs for him to get," she told him,quietly. "I hope they are easy prey."

"Right ho! But I trust he'll not be off with the old pig before he ison with the new. I want him to come to the party there to-night."

Elaine looked up for a moment, and thrilled to the look in his eyes.

"Yes," she said, "I suppose you do."

CHAPTER XVIII

AT THE TIGER'S KILL

The island twilight was brief. When the sun departed from that speckof verdure in the purple sea, the covetous darkness seemed to form likea presence that had crouched to bide its time.

Grenville was early on the scene of the tiger's previous feast. He hadno idea how soon after sundown the jungle monarch might appear. It wasnot such a place as inspired hilarious joy in the heart, in anycirc*mstances. Moreover, one last examination of the bomb and fuse,and one clear impression of the features beneath and about his tree,seemed to Sidney a wise precaution.

The day had, therefore, barely ended when he climbed aloft to hisperch. The end of the fuse was tied to a limb a little removed fromhis feet. He closed his eyes and found it with his hand, by way ofmaking certain it should not be missed in the dark. The larger anddenser of the forms below, created by shadows and growing plants, henoted in their relation to the kill. The latter was not to be clearlyseen, since a screen of leaves he had purposely left to conceal hispresence from the banqueter, served to shield it from his view.

Finally, closing his eyes again, he practiced retreating behind thetrunk itself, as he knew he must do when nothing could be seen and hisfuse was finally lighted. This was rather a delicate operation tomanage in the dark. He made up his mind it must be calmly done, forample time would be provided by the generous length of fuse.

This length, by the way, was considerably less than he had formerlyemployed. The bomb was, therefore, nearer to his stand. Yet the bulkof the tree-trunk was, he thought, an entirely adequate protectionshould he have the delight of hearing his powder explode.

Through the lattice of leaves he presently beheld the last of the day'sdying splendor. The army of shadows, already on the march, was takingrapid possession of all the jungle deeps. The same impatience he hadfelt before, the same vague dread and loneliness previouslyexperienced, and the same slow drag of time impressed themselves uponhis senses.

He wondered how long his brand would last, although it was longer thanthe other. He wondered about Elaine, on the hill, and how tedious thehours would seem to her. But the constant, underlying worry was—whenwould the tiger arrive?

Elaine's suggestion was a bother. Might there not be hogs soplentiful, quarry so readily captured, that the overdisdainful monarchwould prefer warm meat to cold?

There was no mysterious cipher to be studied here to-night. There wasnothing, in fact, with which to pass the time. Not even a newspeculation concerning the cave and the rotting barque arose to givehim entertainment. The haunting, suggestive stillness engulfed himwhere he sat. The world below had merged in one featureless gloom.Except for a few fringed patches of sky between the leaves andbranches, there was nothing but velvety blackness to be seen above orbelow.

He waited and waited, a time that seemed eternal. His resting-placewas hard and uneven. One of his legs was cramped. To shift about andmake no noise was not an easy matter.

Without the slightest warning, suddenly down below him something leapedand crashed through the thicket with a most unexpected sound. Whateverit was, it went bounding off, recklessly parting the jungle. Somecreature in fright it undoubtedly was—and Grenville was instantlyrigid and alert for the next development.

He was certain the tiger, coming to his feast, had thrown some timidcreature into a panic of blind and desperate fear. He listened, withall his powers of concentration, for the sounds that should presentlysucceed.

But save for another plunging, far beyond, there was absolute silenceas before. For fully half an hour after that the stillness waswell-nigh insupportable, so fraught was it all with the tragic sense ofnoiseless life where both hunted and hunters moved about with thecushioned feet of shadows.

Far off towards the spring, or the estuary, a disturbance finallyarose. It was neither loud nor clear. It seemed to interpret somestruggle for life, or pursuit of the weak by the strong. It approachedfor a time, then ceased for nearly half a minute, only to break intoclearer accents of some brute's agony, poignant but mercifully brief.

At this the discouragement in Grenville's breast was unavoidablyincreased. He was certain the tiger had taken fresher prey, and wouldnow ignore his former kill. So intent were his senses on that far-offbit of jungle drama that he failed to detect a nearer sound repeatedbeneath his feet.

When his sharp ears abruptly warned him that something was moving downbelow, an extraordinary climax to his adventure was swiftly coming to afocus.

Some creature had come to the tiger's kill—of that there could be nodoubt. It was lapping, or chewing at the meat!

Unable to distinguish the slightest thing in all that Stygian darkness,Grenville paused, with his brand slightly shielded from the creature'spossible notice, waiting a moment to confirm the fact that a banqueterwas present before he touched the fuse.

A tremendous roar instantly startled the silence, a few feet beyond theboar's remains. Before the man could move a hand, either to light theready fuse or steady himself in the branches, some heavy form washurled against the tree in which he sat—and that something wasclimbing madly upward!

Only a tremor had shivered through the trunk, but the limbs were bentand the foliage stirred as if from a breath of heavy wind. That thecreature might run against himself and turn to fight, in its doublefear and desperation, Grenville was keenly aware.

Subconsciously, also, he was equally sure the tiger was below. Thecatlike thing in the tree with himself had undoubtedly dared to sitdown at the huge brute's kill, to flee for its life a moment later.

Instinctively turning to protect himself and thoroughly disturbed bythis unforeseen complication, Grenville heard his unwelcome companionutter one sudden whine, of surprise and added terror, as it cameabreast him in the branches.

It dared not retreat, and, therefore in a wilder panic, clawed its wayhigher up the tree. The limbs continued to shake their leaves foranother protracted moment. Then the beast found a place to halt abovehis head, and doubtless glared down upon the unknown peril which mansupplies to all the brutes.

Grenville recovered his wits as best he might. He had no particulardread of the animal crouched somewhere in his neighborhood, but neitherdid he relish its presence. What effect the affair would have on thecreature he had come there to engage he could not, of course, determine.

He bent to listen for sounds from the space below. Not the faintestsuggestion of a moving or feeding animal could his focused sensesdetect. He thought perhaps the tiger might have smelled him or seenhim in the tree. It occurred to him, also, the brute might be waitingfor the catlike thief to descend and be slain at the kill.

But a far more likely supposition was that the tiger, having sniffedthe taint of some beast without caste, now left on the meat that wassacred to himself, had disdained to touch it, and had gone away, toreturn to the place no more.

Ready to curse the despicable animal now sharing the tree's securitywith himself, Sidney was all but resigned to another long night, spentin vain and in utter discomfort, when once again a lapping sound camecrisply to his attention.

His brute was at the feast!

With heart abruptly pounding and senses suddenly tense, Grenvilleleaned down, with his glowing brand, to complete his work for the night.

His hand felt blindly along the limb, to pick up the end of the fuse.But someway the place was lost. More eagerly then, and telling offeach twig like a sign that blazed the trail, he explored the branchanew.

He found the fiber that had held the fuse—but the fuse itself wasgone! The panic-stricken creature that had climbed the tree had clawedor broken it down!

A bitterer disappointment to Grenville could scarcely have beenplanned. He was sickened all through by disgust, and a sense of theutter uselessness of all he had striven to accomplish. With fire inhand, the bomb all laid, and the tiger actually present—he washelpless, after all!

It was futile to rage at the cowering beast, above him somewhere in thedarkness. He glanced up once and saw its eyes—two blazing coals offear and malice, like near-by sinister stars!

"By Heavens! I'll not be cheated!" he murmured to himself. A mad newthought had possessed him.

The fuse had been drawn about the tree before it could be fastened nearhis perch. Had it fallen straight down, when torn from its hold, itwould still lie close at hand.

His ladder was hidden from the tiger's position by the tree. Anysounds he must make might be thought to be those of the cat. There wasno particular danger in descending to the ground—with the ladder nearwith which to regain a safe position.

Noiselessly, yet not without excitement, he began his retreat from thebranches. With every step he paused for a bit, to listen to the soundsof the tiger.

The brute was seemingly quite engrossed in the business of filling hisbelly. But, despite his utmost efforts at silence, the leaves of oneof the branches loudly rustled as Grenville's weight was intrusted tothe ladder.

He halted and held his breath. The tiger continued his eating.Holding his firebrand firmly in his teeth, Grenville slowly andcautiously descended, with the furtive alertness of a thief.

When he reached the earth, he was certain his heart would betray hispresence with its pounding. He leaned there, heavily, against thetree, to still the mad leap of his pulses. Then, at length, he beganto feel about for the fuse that should be at his feet.

It was not to be found—and he moved a little outward. His hand camein contact with a long, slender thing—but it proved to be a creeper.

Further and further out he moved, blindly groping with his fingers. Heencountered a shrub, and, fumbling between it and the tree, bethoughthim to feel about its crest. There he found one end of the fuse hesought—but it proved that the length had been broken! He held theuseless end!

One despair after another had seized him within an endless minute.More recklessly, in a burning fever of impatience, he pawed about andmoved even closer to the tiger—whose sounds were horribly near.

He could almost have uttered a cry of joy when the severed fuse wasdiscovered. He waited for nothing, but immediately pressed his brandagainst the sun-dried substance.

There was no powder there. It had spilled when it broke, and itharmlessly smoked as it burned.

Why a groan did not escape him, Sidney could never have told. He brokeoff the tough, resisting substance six inches further along and againapplied his spark.

It seemed as if in all its length there could be no powder remaining.He was savagely grasping the fuse once more, to break it at a fresherplace, when a fiery-red line, some four feet away, seemed creeping likea snake out beyond him.

The spark that was racing along to the bomb had been started whilestill he was sweating there with baffled and excited impatience.

He took no time for further caution, but sprang away to the shelter ofthe tree and caught at a lungful of breath.

There was not a sound in all the place. This much he knew in thatsecond, as he hugged up close to the trunk. The tiger had ceased tolap at the meat, and perhaps was poised for a spring.

It seemed to Grenville, waiting there, that nothing would ever happen.A thousand doubts went darting through his brain. The fuse had failed!It was broken again. Or, perhaps——

A low growl broke the stillness. There was a sound of something movingtowards the tree!

Instantly a frightful red-and-yellow glare leaped upward from theearth. A deafening, crashing detonation rent the intimate universe andshook down incredible stars. The air was filled to overcrowding withrushing billows of concussion that rocked the trees as in a storm.

Grenville went down, dazed and helpless, unable to think, so jarred tochaos were his senses. But, beyond being stunned for a moment, he wastotally unhurt.

He leaped to his feet, aware of some mighty disturbance in the curdled,heavy darkness that had followed.

The tiger it was, in some extravagant activity, moving towardsGrenville and the thicket. He was almost upon the staggering manbefore he could move to escape. Then Grenville stumbled towards theladder.

The jar to the limb, as he tugged at a rung, brought something downfrom above. This was the creature that had hidden in the tree. It hadpartially fallen, earlier stunned by the huge concussion. It droppedupon Grenville leadenly—and down he went in a heap.

The three sworn enemies—tiger, man, and jungle-cat—were embroiled onthe earth together. Before the man could sufficiently recover tostagger from his knees to his feet and grasp his club, the tiger flungout a mighty paw, that struck him a blow upon the chin.

Without a sound he sank limberly down, inert and helplessly unconscious.

CHAPTER XIX

GRENVILLE'S RADIANT STAR

Even had sleep overcome Elaine, the explosion must have startled herawake like a wildly fluttering bird.

All her life she had known the sound of guns, but never before had herears received such an air-splitting shock as this.

Her alarm could know no bounds. It had come so suddenly andunexpectedly; it had been such a cataclysmic destruction of theisland's haunting calm! She was certain some hideous blunder hadoccurred—that Grenville, too, had perished by the thing he hadfearlessly dared to create.

She had seen for an instant that fan-like glare, as she gazed far outacross the jungle. And now, as she stood there, rigid with fears andfixedly staring at the formless gloom—why did she hear no sound?

"Oh, he might—he might call!" she said, and she tried to halloo, butin vain.

She waited a time that seemed endless for some little sign from thejungle. He had promised before that, if all went well, he would hastenhome at once. Surely this promise held good to-night—especially afterthat explosion!

Perhaps it was not yet time; perhaps it was farther away than she hadthought. The glare had seemed near, but he had no torch, and must walkbut slowly through the thicket. How dark it must be along the trails,in that tangle growth, with nothing for a light! How could he possiblyhasten?

She was standing out on the brink of the wall, staring down at thegloom of the clearing, convinced that her ears, if not her eyes, woulddetect the first sign of his coming. Just the merest red gleam fromthe firebrand was all she would ask of the darkness—just that dulllittle star in the firmament of black!

But the ebon remained unbroken. That he might be lost occurred to hermind, but again she thought it was yet too soon for his return. Shestumbled swiftly to the fire again, to stir it to brighter refulgence.It would seem to him a beacon against the sky to guide his footstepshome!

She thought of a blazing brand she could carry to the brink of thewall. With the largest limb afforded by the fire she returned, inhaste and eagerness, to wave him a signal of welcome. And stillnothing came from the clearing.

"Sidney!" she cried through the stillness, at last. "Sidney! Are youthere?"

The night surrendered no response, save some animal cry far off wherethe barque was rotting.

"If he's dead!" she moaned. "If he's dead!"

But he might be wounded and helpless, she thought, with no one to cometo his side. He might not be hurt unto death itself—if aid couldreach him now!

If he died—if he left her thus alone—— A thousand times shepreferred to die beside him!

"Sidney!" she cried, as before.

With a strange dry note, choked back between her lips, she fled oncemore to the fire.

Meantime the man by the tiger's kill continued to lie without motion onthe earth. Not even the glow of his cheering brand remained like asign of life in that silent theater.

The jungle cat, smitten and addled in its brain, had dragged itselfpainfully away to the cover of the thicket, its instinct feebly alive.There was not a sound in all the place, where crash and roar had beenso tremendously expended for one prodigious second.

A vague, weird dream came finally creeping intangibly throughGrenville's brain, resuming an intermittent function. When at lengthit began a little to clear, he dreamed he was trying his utmost torise, but something held him down.

Consciousness poured a trickle through his being, and he felt he waspartially awake. Then a flood, a cataract of surging life, rushingback to its centers, brought confusion and tumult to his thoughts. Hewas still only partially aroused.

His eyes at length were opened. The darkness which their gazeencountered seemed more complete than that of his region of dreams. Heattempted to rise, but his muscles and nerves refused their customaryobedience to his will. He tried to remember what had happened, but theglancing blow sustained on his chin had blotted him out, temporarily,like a stroke of death itself. And, had the stroke been more direct,his jaw or his neck must have broken.

When he raised his head a bit from the ground and propped himself up onhis elbow, the sense of dullness and leadlike weight in both his feetand legs continued unabated. He was battling to retain hisconsciousness.

He began to remember, slowly. The process was only well started,however, when it was singularly interrupted. He was staring blanklythrough the jungle, which he partially recollected. It was funny, hethought, how a star should fall and wander through all those aisles oftrees.

It was a star, he was fully convinced, coming haltingly through thegloom. Its course was erratic. He lost it at times, but still itpersisted in approaching. How beautiful it was—the largest star hehad ever known—with its flames divinely ascending.

He sat up stiffly, his will momentarily gaining strength to resume thesway of his body. Some mantle partially fell from his brain, toaccompany his physical rousing. Then he knew, not only what hadhappened, but also what was happening.

"Elaine!" he tried to call aloud, vainly striving to rise or regain theuse of his limbs, then once more he sank in oblivion.

A strange, wild note broke from her lips as Elaine came plunging alongthe trail with a torch redly blazing in her hand, held well above herface.

She saw, before she could reach his side, that the tiger lay lifelessupon him. She feared the man was dead, but, with wits exceptionallyclear and ordered, she thrust her torch-end firmly in the earth, laidhold of the huge, limber beast she so fearfully dreaded, and tugged anddragged it feverishly off with all her fine young strength.

The face of the inert man beside the tree was redly smeared with blood.He lay horribly loose and still upon the grass. She knelt at his sideand placed her hands upon him, feeling above his heart.

"Sidney!" she said to him. "Sidney! You cannot—you shall not die! Inever meant the things I said—or thought—or anything! Oh, please,please don't—don't look like that! You've got to come back—you'vegot to!"

She tore at the band about his neck and lifted his head on her knee.She wiped the red from his pallid face with the hem of her briar-tornskirt.

"I'll find the spring!" she told him eagerly, starting as if to rise,but the still form moved, and, dully at first, the two heavy eyes wereopened.

"Oh!" she said. "Oh, you're hurt. Don't try to do anything butrest.... You didn't come—you didn't come home!"

Despite her entreaty, Grenville weakly raised his head and proppedhimself, half sitting. The weight being gone from his outstretchedlegs, his normal circulation was returning. He regained his strengthwith characteristic swiftness.

"Hurt?" he said. "No—I don't believe—— I must have got a knockoutblow. The tiger? Did I get the tiger?"

He sat up uncertainly and, glancing about, saw the huge striped formwhere Elaine had dragged it from his body. She still remained on herknees, fixedly gazing on his face. Her strength was ebbing rapidly, asGrenville's now returned.

"You didn't come home," she repeated, by way of explaining her presenceat his side. "I couldn't live here alone."

Grenville arose and assisted her weakly to her feet. She stumbled toand leaned against the tree.

"By George!" he said, "I'll bet a hat you could!"

He knew what courage had come to her aid before she could make herexcursion. "I went down like a dub," he added, in his customarymanner. "No good excuse, but I do apologize. Better get out of this,I'm thinking."

He took up the torch she had planted in the earth, to examine thetiger, dead and mangled in the grass, One of the creature's great frontpaws had been rudely torn from his body. He could only have escapedinstantaneous death by having moved from the bomb at the moment of itsexplosion.

"Your robe looks mussed," Grenville continued, with a gesture towardsthe animal's motionless body. "But I think it can be washed."

Elaine slightly shivered at sight of the frame now done with life.

"You've killed him," she said. "I'm glad!"

He took her firmly by the arm and led her away through the thicket.

When they reached the camp, Elaine was not yet fully convinced thatGrenville was uninjured. She brought him a rag she had torn from someof her clothing and begged him to wash his reddened jaw. Even therestoration of his former stubbled complexion could not suffice tobring her that sense of certainty and calm essential before she couldsleep.

She remained beside him at their fire till long past the midnight hour.Indeed, she had made no move to retire when at length the weird,unwelcome disturbance made by the tide had begun its uncanny chorus.Perhaps she had waited for the conclusion of this added feature of thenight's long ritual of nerve-attacking events, for she seemed to beconsiderably cheered when its final wail had died upon the air.

"It seems to me that doesn't continue quite as long as it did atfirst," she said to Grenville, as she rose at last to go alone to hercavern.... "I think you ought to rest. I wish you would."

"I will," said Sidney. "Good-night."

But, for some time after she had gone, he sat there wondering if thoseabominable but protective cries, that haunted the island's solitude,were actually on the wane.

"God help us if they are!" he said, to himself, but he went to bed andslept.

CHAPTER XX

A GIRDLE OF GOLD

Elaine had not yet appeared on the scene when Grenville went down tothe jungle. The morning hour was still decidedly early, but plans andimpatience to be up and at work had prodded the man from his rest. Thelassitude that should have followed his night of excitement had not yetlaid its weight upon him.

Apparently nothing had come to the jungle scene where the tiger had methis end. The great form lay there, torn and rigid, but no sign of thecat could be discovered.

Grenville passed his trophy, presently, to examine the space beyond.The spot where the bomb had exploded was a gaping hole in the earth.This was not the place where Grenville had placed the deadly tube,which he knew must therefore have been moved—doubtless when the fusewas pulled and broken by the creature taking refuge in the tree.

All about the spot where the kill had been the shrubbery was shredded.The boar's remains had been blown away when the gap was made in thesod. The trail, Grenville saw, must be repaired or a new one must bemade about the place.

He returned to the tiger, and was suddenly elated to behold the metalcollar, half-hidden by the fur about his neck. He had quite forgottenthis bauble, thus singularly employed, and, kneeling down to inspect itclosely, not only found it was massive gold and set with costly jewels,but also discovered he must break or force a heavy link to take it fromthe creature.

It was not until he had brought two sharp-edged rocks to his needs thatthe collar was finally freed. Its weight and worth then amazed him.The band was fully two inches in width, with the edges curved up andturned under, in a simple and hammer-marked finish. It was allhand-wrought, each blow that the smith had struck with his tool beingfaintly recorded in the metal. The jewels—three sapphires, threerubies, and one diamond—were simply and solidly set with bands thatbarely clasped their bases. The rubies only were cabochon cut, theother stones gleaming with facets.

There was not a mark upon the collar's outer surface to show what wasmeant by its presence here in such extraordinary keeping. ButGrenville presently bethought him to glance at the inner circumference.He was not in the least astonished, but he was a bit concerned, todiscover a number of those mystic symbols, deeply graved in the gold,that had once been tattooed on the man sitting dead in the barque.

Here were the three hills, bounded by the water, and one with the treeon its summit, while on either side the cartouch appeared, bounded bycrude drawings of the tiger. That the brute had been liberated hereupon the island as a sort of sacred guardian of the cave that wasmentioned by the writing found secreted with the map, Grenville couldnot, or did not, doubt. There was nothing more to be found engraved onthe gold.

He finally slipped the heavy band about his own smooth, sun-tanned neckand went at the task of securing Elaine's promised robe. This toil wasfar more difficult than even his lack of proper appliances had led himto anticipate. Although he had sharpened his stub of a knife-blade toa very respectable cutting-edge, it was far too small for the business.

His doggedness and application were the assets on which he had most tocount, and without them here he must have failed. As it was, heremained so long away that Elaine, who was up, was alarmed. And, whenat last he appeared below with the heavy, striped skin across hisshoulder, she started abruptly, till she saw he was not another tiger.

"I thought you might like to see the size of his hide," he said, as hebrought it to the terrace, "before I take it down by the shore fortanning. I shall soak it a while in a mixture of brine and saltpeter.Both are highly preservative—-and the best the island affords."

"He was simply tremendous!" Elaine replied, when the skin had beenspread on the rocks. "What have you got about your neck?"

"Oh, this?" said Grenville, removing the golden collar. "This is asymbol of royalty that his Bengal highness wore—your property now, asa trophy of the hunt."

She took it a little uncertainly as he held it forth in his hand.

"Why—it's gold!" she said. "These jewels—— The tiger was wearingthis?"

"About his kingly neck."

"But how—unless someone put it on?"

"Undoubtedly someone did. He must have been a captive once, andprobably escaped."

It could serve no good end to acquaint her with his actual suspicions,which might be ill-founded, after all.

"It's beautiful," she continued, gazing in admiration on the collar'ssimple massiveness. "But it's not for me, I'm sure." She held it outfor him to take. But he bent above the skin.

"Then pitch it away," he instructed, laconically. "Toss it into thesea."

She colored, looking at him strangely. She could not throw away hisproperty—anything of such great intrinsic value. She was baffledagain, as he managed so frequently. Her hand and the golden circletfell at her side. She could think of no appropriate speech of finalrejection. A whimsical notion only arose to her groping mind.

"Fancy me wearing this priceless band of splendor," she said, "andeating with a stick!"

"It will just about fit around your waist," he conjectured, taking itfrom her as he rose. With easy strength he bent it in his hands, tomake it more snugly conform to her slender and graceful little body.

Why should he not bend it thus, she thought, who had wrenched it from atiger? She felt how weak and inadequate was her own diminishingstruggle. But to wear this band—a symbol, almost, of Grenville'sownership—— A hot recurrence of her former pride came surging to herbosom.

"It's too heavy to wear," she told him, a trifle coldly. She once moreaccepted the girdle, however, despite herself, from his hand. "Thetiger that wore it," she concluded, "met with a lot of trouble."

"You've met with some yourself," he answered, candidly, and heshouldered the skin and started off for the estuary's mouth.

Elaine burned suddenly scarlet, interpreting his speech in some mannerof her own. Helplessly she carried the girdle to her cave, and left itthere in a hollow of the rock.

The incident concerned with the tiger was practically closed. A new,bright era of security and liberty thereupon commenced, particularlyfor Elaine. She could not take immediate advantage of the comfort thusvouchsafed in moving about the island, but at least her worry waslessened when Grenville was obliged to venture in the jungle.

His return to the work so frequently interrupted was delayed but thebriefest time. So eager did he constantly feel to accomplish hisboat's completion that he had grudged every hour the tiger had cost himfrom his labors.

With no thought of sparing his tireless strength, he promptly resumedthe task of digging and fetching the clay. Elaine might have joinedhim in the clearing now had not some task she was eager to completeengrossed her attentions at the shelter.

That day the remaining surface of his prostrate log was plastered byGrenville's eager hands. He likewise mixed sufficient clay to finishhis furnace in the morning. The fire that was helping to hollow hislog was once again ignited. Much of the old charred substance, leftfrom previous operations, Grenville knocked away with an improvisedtool of brass, in order to daub more clay inside the shell before theflames could continue removing the wood as he required.

On the following day, while the walls in his smelter were drying,Sidney wove a two-piece door of wattle—framework of creepers,plastered with clay—to fit across the orifice at the bottom of histree. With this he felt he could regulate the draught and protecthimself while removing his crucibles of metal. The top door only wouldbe tossed aside to accomplish this latter purpose.

He likewise plastered the edges and sides of the hole that pierced hissmelter. He knew the heat, when he came to melt the brass, wouldspread at once to all unprotected wood. After that he had still tocontrive a clay-covered implement for lifting out his crucibles, and atripod affair to be placed inside the furnace to support thesecrucibles upon.

What with more work done upon the boat-to-be, and a goodly portion ofthe afternoon expended in killing and preparing another of thepheasants for their dinner, Grenville's hours sped swiftly away.

A weary but elated craftsman he was that day-end when at length hereturned for the final time to the terrace. He had been to the shore,where the tiger-hide was curing in a strong solution of brine andsaltpeter, mixed in a hollow in the sand, and, having there turned itover, had washed himself to a fresh and ruddy color.

Notwithstanding the unbecoming growth of beard upon his face, heappeared to Elaine the most commanding figure she had ever taken timeto inspect. He looked every inch a master of the island, if not alsoof his fate and her own. But she was more than usually excited thatevening, as she disappeared within her shelter.

She presently emerged with such an air of uncertainty and diffidenceabout her as had never before appeared since their coming to theisland. But she did not hesitate in the task she had set herself toperform.

"I have finished my first bit of knitting," she said, "and there it is."

To Grenville's thorough amazement, the clean, new article held in herhand, and shyly offered for his acceptance, was a cap she had made forhis head. It was not unlike a golf-cap in shape, but the visor wasconsiderably wider, to protect his eyes from the sun.

She had woven this of finely divided creeper-core on a frame neatlymade of the same. Its meshes had then been filled by fibers, snuglyand neatly plaited back and forth to make it opaque to the light. Theframe was firmly knitted to the cap.

"Pretty good," said Grenville, busied with several arrows. "Thanks;"and, placing it carelessly on his head, continued with his employment.

Elaine, who had conjured all her resolution to make of the presentationthe merest commonplace affair, was wholly confounded in her thoughts bythe man's unheard-of conduct, after all she had recently undergonebefore she could make him such a gift.

She had feared some demonstration of the passion shown on the ship—orat least some disturbing outburst she had armed herself to quench. Butthis—such scant courtesy or gratitude as this—left her absolutelyimpotent and baffled.

She was piqued, disappointed, chagrined. It was horrid of anyone, shewas sure, to be so outrageously unfeeling. There was nothing, however,she could do, and nothing she could say. Standing there, mortified,almost angry, and conscious she was burning guiltily red with variousemotions that he did not even notice, was such a footless andirritating proceeding, with the situation robbed of its point.

She turned away, fairly ready to cry with vexation, and pretended tomake herself busy with things already well prepared for their eveningmeal. But the new rebellion of her nature, partially begotten by theuncontrolled and uncontrollable impulses loosed in the jungle theprevious night, when Grenville lay helplessly stunned, with his headloosely pillowed on her knee, was not to be longer contained. Shepresently fled from before the cavern, across, through the shadows ofthe terrace, to the hidden shelf where Grenville had angled for fish.

There she suddenly sank to her knees on the rocks and covered her facewith her hands.

"I hate him!" she said, in a hot and passionate utterance, suggestiveof a sob. "I hate him! I hate him! I hate every man that everlived—and you, Gerald Fenton, as much as all the others!"

She snatched off the ring from her finger. It was Fenton's ring, witha single stone that gleamed in the failing light. It seemed to her torepresent the man far absent from her side.

"It was you who brought it all about!" she continued, in her fiercelywaging conflict, and, overwrought, she cast it down on the ledge as ifit burned her palm.

It bounded lightly where it struck and, clearing the shelf, fellswiftly downward to the water. A gasp and a moan escaped her lipstogether. Vividly, of a sudden, she remembered Grenville's predictionthat she would throw it away in the sea.

"Oh, Gerald, I didn't mean to!" she moaned. "I didn't! You've got tobelieve me!" She sank farther forward on the ledge, her face closelyhidden in the curve of her loose brown arm. She wept and wept there,bitterly, in a mood of mixed emotions.

"I hate him! I hate him!" she said, as before. "It's not my fault inthe least!"

And after a time, as Grenville did not come, she returned to the campalone.

CHAPTER XXI

MOLTEN METAL AND HOPES

The following day was calmer for Elaine, and vastly interesting, sinceGrenville's smelting operations were begun. She told herself thatinterest only laid its hold upon her nature, and, being a woman, sheknew.

The clay that lined his hollow tree was sufficiently dry at last forGrenville's fire. The other accessories, all more thinly coated, werelikewise ready for his use. He began in the morning to heat hisnatural chimney against the actual needs of afternoon. The small firekindled upon its hearth established at once the efficiency of thedraught.

Not without a certain boyish eagerness in the culmination of hislabors, Sidney began the assemblage of his various paraphernalia anhour at least before noon. His molds and crucibles he carefullybrought from the summit of the terrace, disposing them as convenientlyas his crude conditions permitted. All his rusted scraps and uselessbits of brass and bronze were divided into parcels, while salt, somepowdered charcoal, and an over-abundant supply of saltpeter wereprovided to be used as flux, according as the smelting might demand.He could not be certain of which he should use till experiment shoulddetermine which, if any, rendered good results.

The principal difficulty, he soon discovered, would be adding the fuelto his flames. His smelter-door was not well arranged for thisessential business. He expected, however, to heap a considerablequantity of wood inside before the chimney should become too hot.Later he thought a lot of short material could be readily introduced,and against this need he gathered an impressive heap of branches, whichhe broke to a workable length.

Elaine was with him when at last the work began. She was far moreexcited than Grenville seemed, since it appeared to her no less than amiracle that any man, in a place like this, should dare assume such amastery over Jovian metals and flame. She had never before seenanything of smelting. This intimate acquaintance with its mysteriesseemed to her a privilege, greatly enhanced by the fact that the lordof it all pretended she was actually helpful.

She assisted when he bound the sections of his clay-made moldstogether. She handed him fuel when the furnace-door was opened andgushes of heat came voluminously forth.

The fire, which for a time had loudly roared, was now more intense andquiet. The volumes of smoke, which the "chimney" had belched, hadlikewise finally ceased. Only a quiver of superheated air and agreenish bit of gas and fume now ascended to the sky.

From time to time, Grenville opened the top of the door to peer within.He wrinkled his features, in the waves of heat, and held his handbefore his face. At length he adjusted his "tongs" about a crucibleand drew it entirely forth.

It was white with heat, its surface sparkling with a hundred tiny starsthat died on its glowing surface.

"Just toss in some of that stuff there on the leaf," he quietlyinstructed Elaine. "It will soon be ready to pour."

The "stuff" was flux, and Elaine obeyed directions like the stanchassistant that she was. She wondered what was coming next.

It came very soon. She was certain no ruddier figure of Vulcan,employing mighty flame, had ever been presented than now when Grenvillemade ready for the climax of his work.

He removed the door as he had not previously done, and set it asidefrom his path. He thrust in his tongs, while flame and heat camepouring out to paint him a deep and glowing color. Then, seeminglyhotter than ever before, and smoking goldenly above its blindingincandescence, the first of the crucibles, itself fairly dripping,where some of the flux had trickled down its surface, was supportedover to the molds, to be quickly and vigorously skimmed of its oxidizedmatter.

But the molten brass, indescribably beautiful, with ruby and gold andsilver gleams imbedded and breaking in its substance, was the wonder ofit all. Elaine stood entranced, to see it flow and fill the hollows ofthe molds.

The second was hastily drawn from the flame, and then the third andlast. But not till all lay finally empty and smoking on the earth,their surfaces rapidly dulling, did Grenville pause to look at Elaineand smile.

"Can't even tell what we've done," he said, "till the molds are cooledand opened."

"Must you wait very long till you know?"

"I couldn't wait long," Grenville answered. "I'm too much of a curiouskid."

As a matter of fact, brass poured in a mold begins to harden at once.In less than fifteen minutes, Grenville was gingerly untwisting the hotcopper wire that bound each mold together. Soon after that the firstof his tools, a heavy and serviceable chisel, lay uncovered to the air.

It was still glowing hot, although no longer red. It was darker, lessbrassy in appearance than Elaine had expected to see, but it seemed toher a wonderful thing to be made of those useless bits of metal.

The tool next in importance was much like a butcher's cleaver—animplement intended for cutting or hacking wood or branches, either toclear a path in the jungle or to rough out anything of timber. Theedge of this casting was imperfect, where the metal had failed to flow.Both it and the chisel had a thin fringe of brass along those sectionswhere the halves of the mold had come together, but this would bereadily broken away and was quite to be expected.

Smaller chisels, a blade that Sidney expected to notch along its edgeto make a species of saw, and a number of smaller implements werecontained in the other sets of molds. None of these was perfect, andone or two merely served to instruct the master-molder in the way to goto work another time. But the net results were highly satisfactory,and seemed to Elaine a veritable triumph.

The poorness of their quality as tools with which to accomplish swiftresults developed the following day. Grenville had melted a part ofhis lead and cast the head of a hammer. With this and the largest ofhis chisels he attacked the log chosen for a boat.

So long as his gouging was confined to the portions charred by thefire, the tool held well to the labor. Its edge soon went to pieces,however, when the solider substance was encountered. It was sharpenedrepeatedly. He early foresaw that, work as he might, the business ofconjuring forth a boat from material so raw was certain to be slow, ifnot exhausting.

Indeed, at this time a tedious period began. There were days and daysof dull, stupid repetition ahead like the ones that were presentlypast. Fire after fire he maintained beneath the log, which must alwaysbe newly plastered with the clay. Hour after hour he chiseled off theblack and dusty flakes that the flames would leave behind, since ithastened the work to present a new surface to the heat. It seemed asif the task could never have an end.

But, if this was a season of dogged application to an uncongenialbusiness, it was likewise the one long era of peace vouchsafed to theexiled pair. There was nothing to rouse a sense of alarm in any nearportion of the jungle. And, if those fast succeeding days brought nowelcome sign of a steamer approaching on the distant blue horizon,neither did their lengthening hours develop those craft upon the seafor which Grenville was constantly and apprehensively watching. Theywere happy days, as well as peaceful. Concerning the ring she had lostin the sea, Elaine could not force herself to worry. Grenville never,by any chance, gave her occasion for alarm.

There were many full afternoon vacations from his work when the firewas left to hollow out his log that Sidney spent at her side. He woveher a hammock of the creeper withes and built a shady bower by theshore. He had sawed her a comb from the tortoiseshell, bent hairpinsof the copper wire, and made her a comfortable couch. Her tiger-skinrobe he had worked with his hands to a soft and pliant finish. Theskin of a cheeta he had killed he used to supplement his rapidlyvanishing shirt. Sewing was strongly, if not prettily, accomplishedwith such needles and thread as his ready ingenuity provided.

They were busy days that were doomed, however, to pall. Elaine wasassisting with a loom to weave a sail, while between times Grenvillechipped out the stone for the bath he had promised on the ledge. Hebecame a skillful marksman with his bow, and knew every animal trailthe island afforded. In many of these his traps did deadly service.Their larder rarely lacked for meat, made tender by paw-paw leaves.Elaine caught many a silver fish that they roasted together in the sand.

But her gaze more frequently roved afar, for the ship that did notcome. The days were growing sultrier, and constantly more monotonous.

The new moon had come and waxed to the full and was once more waning inthe heavens. They were marvelous nights the old orb made upon theisland, but always weird and exciting a sense, in Elaine at least, ofloneliness and aloofness from the world. On their cliff above themurmurous tides, she and Grenville frequently sat for hours at a timewithout exchanging a word.

Such times were fraught with strangely exciting moments; and subtletinglings came unbidden to her nature, giving her pleasures wildlylawless and precious beyond expression. Yet she feared them also whenthey came, and refused to give them meaning.

But to-night a new wistfulness burned in her eyes as she turned to hersilent companion.

"I wonder," she said, "if we couldn't put a fresher flag on our poleto-morrow."

"Sure shot," said Sid, "the freshest flag that ever grew."

She was silent again for several moments. Then she said:

"What should we do if a year went by—two years, perhaps, or evenmore—and a ship should never come?"

"Do?" said Grenville. "Sail away."

"I know. But I mean, supposing we found no place to go—and had tocome back every time."

"H'm!" said Grenville, rubbing the corner of his jaw, "you probablyalso mean to suppose we were always unmolested."

"Why, yes, of course. Who could come to molest us here?"

"Molesters," he said, "if anyone. But perhaps they never would."

He had given no answer to her question, which she hardly cared torepeat. It was one of the times, which frequently came, when she couldnot prevent herself from wondering if this strong, primal man she hadonce called a brute could have utterly forgotten the passionatedeclaration made on the steamship "Inca" the day before the wreck.

She wondered also, had he meant it at the time? Or had one of his manyinscrutable moods possessed him, barely for the moment? She had neverdared recently confess to herself what feelings might instantly invadeher tingling nature should she learn he had only pretended, perhaps onsome wager with Gerald, as a test of her faithfulness and love.

It was womanlike, merely, on her part, to desire to know his mind. Nowoman may long resent being loved by a strong and masterful man. AndElaine was delightfully typical of all her delightful sex.

"Well," she presently said, "we've been here now much longer than weever expected that day when we arrived."

His gaze, which had been averted, now swung to a meeting with her own.She had never seemed lovelier, braver, more sweetly disposed than now.The moonlight deepened her luminous eyes till the man fairly held hisbreath.

"Elaine," he said, finally, glancing once more towards the silveredsea, "what is your notion of love?"

The shock of the word threw all her wits into confusion.

"My notion?" she stammered, helplessly, feeling the hot flames leaplike floods of his molten metal to her neck, her face, and her bosom."I don't believe—I have—any notions."

"Your convictions, then?" he amended. "Or, if you like, yourprinciples?"

"My—my principles of—of all that—are—just about like—everyoneelse's, I suppose," she managed to answer, fragmentarily, "—beinghonest—and true—and faithful—unto death."

"To the one that you really love?"

"Why—certainly—of course." The heat in her face increased, sosignificant had she felt his words with that low even tone of emphasis.

He stared so long at the sea after that she began to suspect he had noteven heard her reply. After a time she was tempted to play, just atrifle, with the fire. She added, "Why did you ask?"

"Wanted to know." Once more he fell dumb, and again she waited, afraidhe would, and more afraid he would not, continue the delicate topic.Once again, also, she was tempted.

"And what," she inquired, "is your—notion?"

He did not turn. "Of love or crocodiles?"

"Of—of love—was what you asked me."

"I believe I did," he responded. "Oh, about the same as yours!"

Elaine had received but scanty satisfaction. After another longsilence she ventured to say:

"We might have to be here a year—or even longer."

He turned to her directly. "Do you like it here, Elaine?"

She would not reply, and therefore demanded, "Do you?"

"I'm a savage," he admitted. "This sort of thing appeals to somethingin my blood."

"I know," she answered, understandingly, "—building up an empire withyour naked hands, unaided—conquering metals and elements—wresting theisland's dominion from the brutes. Naturally you love it!"

He reddened. "I can't make an apple dumpling and make it right! Thisisland's dominion? Great Cæsar's frying-pan—this is a regularpicnic-ground, with everything on earth provided!"

She smiled. "And things all made and ready, including tools andpowder, not to mention a tiger-skin rug.... You refuse to admit youlike it for itself?"

"Like it or not," he answered, "we must get away—and home."

"Home," she repeated, oddly. "Home.... I wonder if home will everseem—— It certainly would be wonderful, a miracle, I think, to see asteamer really coming—and to go on board and have it take us backto—everything—somewhere home—— But we'd sometimes think of this—alittle?"

"Probably."

To save his life, he could not banish thoughts of Fenton.

"I'm sure we would," murmured Elaine. She gazed away, to the jungle'ssoftened shadows. She wanted to cry out abruptly that she loved itto-night, with a love that could never die. She wanted the comfort ofsomething, she hardly dared wonder what. After another long silence,she finally said, with eyes averted and excitement throbbing in herveins:

"I know the name of this little place—do you?"

"No," he said, wondering what she might have discovered. "What do youthink it is called?"

It seemed to Elaine her heart pounded out her reply.

"The Isle of Shalimar."

If Grenville knew the Indian name for Garden, he made no sign that shecould read. He made no reply whatsoever, but gazed as before at thesea.

He was turning at last when a low, but distinctly briefer, recurrenceof the island's haunting wails arose to disturb the wondrous calm—aswell as his peace of mind. There could be no doubt the tidalphenomenon was gradually but steadily failing.

What might occur when it altogether ceased was more than the man coulddivine. He felt a vague dread of that approaching hour and of what itmight develop.

"It must be after midnight," he said, at last, "—time for night'sordinary dreams."

Yet, when he was finally stretched on his bed, he did not lose himselfin slumber. Instead he lay thinking of the island's haunting soundsand the cave somewhere underneath the headland.

He had meant to attempt an inspection of this place, if only to gratifya natural curiosity. The thought occurred to him now that, in case ofdire necessity, it might afford such a shelter as was not to be foundon any other portion of the island. It was not a thing to beneglected. He made up his mind that the following day he would make anexploration.

CHAPTER XXII

A TOMB OF STONE

The ladder that Grenville constructed in the morning was not entirelynew. He had found upon testing the original contrivance, made for hisséance with the tiger, that, although the creepers had become quitedry, they were neither weak nor brittle.

He fortified the older section with additional material, however, tomake absolutely certain it would not abruptly part and drop him intothe sea. All morning he worked, while his smoldering fires continuedto eat out the hollow for his boat, securing new length to the rungsalready provided, since the distance down from the brink of the cliffwas fully one hundred feet.

To Elaine he explained that he thought perhaps a cave might exist inthe rock. The wailing sounds, it was easy to argue, would indicatesome such cavity, which he felt it important to examine. If shesomewhat divined the further fact that he hoped to discover a possibleretreat, should unforeseen dangers threaten, she made no revelation ofher thought.

It was not without considerable anxiety, however, that she finallydiscovered precisely what he meant to attempt. His ladder, she wascertain, was far too frail for any such business as climbing down,above that boiling tide. One careless step, or a parting of thestrands, and nothing on earth could save the man from death on thejutting rocks below. She had glanced at the waters under the cliff,and their crystal depths were not at all reassuring.

The thorough precautions against a mishap that Grenville finallycompleted considerably lessened her fears, yet she had no wish to watchhim descend when at length he slipped over the edge. She was gazingwith fixed and wide-open eyes at the heap of rocks in which he hadfastened the ladder.

The matter to Grenville seemed simple enough. The brink overhung thewall itself, in consequence of which the ladder swung quite free, downthe face of the scarp, till it touched at a jutting ledge below. Itswayed to and fro and sagged a bit loosely at some of the rungs, but itcould not be broken by his weight.

He made no attempt at a rapid descent, neither did he pause to enjoythe scenery. When the ledge was reached he rested, made certain nosharp-edged stone could impinge upon and perhaps cut into his twistedcreepers, and again proceeded downward.

His course for a matter of two or three fathoms was rendered rathermore difficult by the fact the ladder lay closely bent against thewall, instead of hanging free. The rock face was pitted andexceedingly rough, its indentations ill-arranged for footholds and fartoo treacherous for any such employment.

Grenville was nearly at the lower lip of this projection before heattempted a look below to determine what he was approaching. Hediscovered then it was undercut again—and likewise that his ladder wasconsiderably short. Its lower end dangled about with irregulargyrations as he shifted his weight from rung to rung. It was fully twoyards above the water. There was nothing in sight on which to planthis feet, so far as he could discern from the point then occupied.

He continued down the ledge. When he reached its base, his suspicionswere immediately confirmed. It overhung a cavern, which was not,however, the cave. To the final rung but one of his ladder hedescended, and there he rested to have a look about.

He was hanging directly before a massive pot-hole in the cliff—a huge,roughly rounded sort of chamber, the roof of which was arched. On theleft, it shared its pitted wall with a second and smaller chamber. Onthe right, its edge was jaggedly broken against a yawning hole. Thishole was undoubtedly the cave-mouth described by the documents found inthe hidden tube.

From this point only, as Grenville could see, would its mouth bereadily discovered. Thick curtains of greenery, draped from itsneighboring walls of rock, would shield it from view from passingboats, unless they should nose to its portals. This, with a swirlingand dangerous tide, no craft would be likely to attempt.

The shrubbery, hanging so thickly from the ledge, afforded Grenville apuzzle. He knew it could not be a seaweed, since the tide never roseto such a level. He presently realized it was simply an air plant ofunusually luxuriant growth. Its roots had found lodgment in a crevice,where nothing would be likely to disturb it in its possession.

Concerning the possible contents of the cave, its extent, or immediatesurroundings, there was nothing to be discovered from his ladder, twistas he might or crane his neck to stare in the cavern's mouth.

He had practically determined to return to the top, shift his ladderalong, and once more make the descent, when he realized his effortwould be wasted. A thick, broken shelf of the pitted tufa jutted manyfeet out above the cave, and even beyond the growing weed. Should hehang his ladder directly before the opening, he would find himself,when he came to its end, swung helplessly over the water.

He could see distinctly where the final base of the wall projected intothe tideway. It would certainly be no less than ten feet removed fromthe nearest point he could possibly reach by this particular method.

It occurred to his mind he could lengthen his strands, drop himself offthe ladder-end, and swim to the edge of the cave. But, even as heturned to examine the physical features afforded to a swimmer, a hugedark form loafed like a shadow through the crystal tide, to rise beyondand cut the sparkling surface with a blackish dorsal fin. There was nomistaking Mr. Shark.

Grenville nodded, grimly. "Thanks for the timely suggestion," he said,as the monster once more sank. He presently added, "It's a boat or noexplorations." Somewhat disappointedly, he returned up the ladder tothe top.

"The cave is there," he told Elaine, who promptly sat down, in sheerrelief, when she saw him finally safe, "but it has to be entered fromthe water."

"Oh!" said Elaine. "But why does it have to be entered?"

"Well," said Sidney, at a loss for a better argument, "it might be fullof treasure;" and he smiled.

Elaine was no less ready with her answer. "Treasure is certainlyindispensable to us here. No wonder we've felt that something wasstrangely lacking."

"There you are," he rejoined. "I think I can paddle the raft about thecliff, for the tide could never be better."

She was certain that Grenville attached some unusual importance to aninspection of the cave.

"Couldn't I help?" she asked him. "What was the fault of the ladder?"

"Fully six feet too short. Perhaps you'd better watch for passingsteamers. If we missed one—whom should we blame?"

They had slowly returned to the shelter, where the table wasattractively spread.

"What a luncheon!" said Grenville, enthusiastically. "I'll eat in arush and be back before you know I've gone." He certainly ate withlively promise.

But, after the raft was launched on the tide, he lost all sense oftime. He had left his shoes and stockings on the shore. He hadbrought a torch, lighted, which he lashed in an upright position on theraft. Wading and paddling, punting, pulling, and at times even pushinghis craft along the beach, he warmed to his work in the briefest space,since the tide could hardly have been more favorable to his needs.

The pole he had brought had a hook at the end, bound firmly in placewith copper wire. This was an excellent provision, especially when hecame to the cliff, where wading was out of the question. He was thusenabled to catch at a ledge, or any open crevice, and draw his unwieldyfloat along, while fending it off from various rocks on which it mightotherwise have pounded.

His work was hard and slow. The distance was not discouraging,however, and with some of the swirls to assist, here and there, hefinally came to a broken sort of cape, from which he readily saw hisdangling ladder. After that a hot bit of fighting was required tomaintain his position near the wall. The tide was uneasy—a hungry,ugly swirl that alternately came and subsided.

When he passed it at last his task was done, for the cave was a stone'stoss away. It was not even then to be seen, and its presence in thecliff would scarcely have been suspected. But Grenville knew theluxuriant plant that grew across a portion of its entrance. When hepresently moored his raft to a rock fairly under the shadow of theweed, the cave was just above him.

Under his feet the ledge was rough and sloping. It was pitted socompletely as to form a rude natural stairway to the opening under theoverhanging shelf. This mouth to the cavern was hardly six feet wideand not more than four in height. Its access was comparatively easy.

Grenville, with his torch in hand, was presently gazing within.Obliged to stoop, and beholding nothing but absolute darkness ahead ofhis light, he stumbled against a lumpy vein of rock—and nearly metwith disaster. He barely halted at the edge of a pool of ebon water.

After all his effort to gain the cave, it appeared to be filled withthis inklike accumulation. The pool was absolutely still. Not aripple disturbed its shining surface. How deep it was and how far itextended from the ledge that held it from flowing into the sea, couldnot be gauged by Grenville's torch, as he held it aloft to stare at thewall of velvet gloom.

He sounded a note that rolled about and reverberated weirdly. But hecould not determine from the echoes how far the waves had traveled.

Casting his dull-red illumination to the left, and lower down, heproceeded a little along the ledge, till it merged in an upright wall.There was nothing at all to be seen in this direction save water androck, that faded away into Stygian darkness beyond.

He retraced his steps and explored the ledge on the right. This ledhim considerably further than the first had done before it wassimilarly ended. He was then aware the cavern was of no inconsiderabledimensions, at least with regard to its width. He raised his eyestowards the ceiling, where nothing was to be seen.

At length he bethought him of another test—that of throwing lumps ofrock against the walls. There were fragments in plenty scatteredloosely at his feet. The first one he threw went straight outahead—and presently thumped on something solid. He reckoned thedistance some sixty feet away, but admitted it might have been eighty.

Every missile he cast right, left, or at an angle promptly reported awall; and some plumped back into water. The cave was not gigantic, butall its floor was apparently flooded. His hand, which he thrust in thewater where he stood, groped blindly and found no bottom. He rolled uphis sleeve and tried again, without more definite results. The water,however, was warm.

"Good place for a swim, in any case," he told himself, aloud; and,planting his torch with a sudden determination that he would notretreat with information so utterly meager, he stripped off hisclothing at once. He let himself into the ebon depths, with his torchheld well above the water. He had rather expected to be able to wade,but he sank to his neck without sounding to the bottom.

Swimming almost perpendicularly, employing one hand only, he presentlylost all sight of the walls and was out in an unknown pool ofblackness. Save for a slight sensation of its weirdness, theexperience was decidedly pleasant. He tasted the water as he swam andfound that it was fresh. He turned to look out at the opening, butcould barely see light through the weeds.

Some twenty or thirty feet from the ledge, his feet encountered aridge. It was stone, and across it he waded to a greater depth beyond.Yet once again he was soon enabled to stand erect and walk along thebottom. The broken, uneven surface that he felt with his feet made hisprogress slow and careful.

He had presently crossed the underground pond, up the sloping bank ofwhich he was soon making rapid progress. He emerged on a dry ledgebeyond. Even then the walls were not to be seen till he walked a rodstraight onward.

The briefest examination sufficed to establish the fact he had come toa sort of natural antechamber to the larger cavern he had crossed.Also, apparently, the entire place was as empty as a last year'sbird's-nest.

Vaguely disappointed, though he hardly knew why, the man surveyed theplace anew, by the light that entered at the opening as well as by thatof his torch. He saw at once that, could it be drained, the placewould afford a retreat of amazing security for anyone needful ofshelter. He was also certain he could drain it in a day by blastingthrough the ledge of rock that blocked the entrance from the sea and soretained the pool.

With one more brief and cursory examination of the rocky structureabout him, he was turning away when something foreign about a slab ofstone, that seemed a fragment of the solid wall, attracted hisattention.

He laid his hand upon its top as if to pull it down. It came away soreadily it all but fell on his feet. Behind it the crudest sort ofmasonry walled up a natural door.

Ten minutes later, standing on the heap of blocks he had tumbledrapidly down in forming a gap through four feet at least of thisbulkhead, Grenville thrust his torch within a nichelike chamber of thecavern.

A low exclamation of astonishment burst from his lips at the visionthus suddenly encountered.

The place was a tomb for dead kings' gold and precious stones thatthrew back the gleams from his torch!

CHAPTER XXIII

A DESPERATE CHANCE

For fully a minute Grenville was motionless, there in the gap,surveying the treasure crypt.

The more his eyes became accustomed to the yellowish light and inkyshadows, the more extensive became his estimate of the wealth the cavecontained.

The symbols and trinkets of solid metal and glistening stones werearranged not only on rudely-hewn shelves about the cavern's walls, butlikewise in several stone receptacles, like sarcophagi in miniature,cut from the tufa of the island. It was partially because of thisfeature of the hidden niche that Grenville concluded the property herehad once belonged to either Indian or African native chiefs and thatthis was a mortuary house of guarded treasure.

There was, however, further confirmation of his theory. This was acrude inscription on the wall above the shelves and caskets. It wassimply that same cartouch he had found on the map or parchment—oncepart of a living being—with the figure of a mummy in the oval. Oneither side of this the beetle or scarab was repeated.

The utter inutility of gold and gleaming jewels was momentarilyforgotten as Grenville stared in from the wall. The island, itsperils—everything save an underlying current of thought that woveabout Elaine—had ceased for the moment to impress his newly dazzledsenses. He withdrew his arm to plant his torch in the stones alreadyremoved. Then lustily heaving out stone after stone, like some nakedgod of the underworld, half revealed in the smoky glare, he began todemolish the barrier so carefully erected in the cave.

He had torn down nearly half the bulk of this uncemented wall, fillingthe larger cavern weirdly full of the crashing and thudding noises,when one of the fragments, tossed unthinkingly behind him, bounded fromanother rock and struck down his torch and its light.

Utter darkness instantly descended. He tried to grope his way quicklyforward, thinking the torch might be recovered and blown to a flameagain. But he stumbled, fell down upon his knees, and was bruised onthe stones about his feet. When he finally found the torch with hishand, a rock lay squarely upon it; the last of its fire was gone.

Thoroughly disgusted with his carelessness, he stood undecidedly abovethe unseen ruin he had wrought. To attempt further work of removingthe wall by the faint diffusion of light that entered from the outsideworld, was out of the question. To enter the crypt before the aperturecould be considerably enlarged was equally impossible. Moreover, thetreasure was safe, as he presently admitted.

As a matter of fact, he began to realize at last how futile had beenhis labor. He remembered, abruptly, where he was, the details of hishelpless situation. Except as something to show Elaine, or to load herwith as presents, the stuff in the cave was as worthless as so muchdross.

There was nothing to do but retreat as he had come. This he presentlydid, reluctantly turning from the half-uncovered cavern and wading intothe pool.

Without his torch, and swimming towards the light, he was now enabled,to some extent, to discern the limits of the cave. He could see aportion of the ceiling and a bit of the wall on his left. Both werefeatureless, to all appearances. The water's surface presented a moreextensive aspect with the light thus spread before him, but its fartherlimits could not be descried, where its inkiness blended with the gloom.

When he came at length to the ledge that formed a natural dam acrossthe entrance, thereby impounding the water, he looked it over withgreater care than when he had first trod upon it, to determine wherewould be the likeliest spot for a blast to break it down.

There could be no debate upon this subject. Over against the uprightwall, on the left-hand side looking out, the ledge not only narroweddown, where a pot-hole pitted it deeply, but a tiny crevice extended sonearly through the remaining substance that a trickle of water alreadyoozed downward towards the sea. The perpendicular wall here also wasbroken, a number of fragments of exceptional size appearing so loose asto threaten toppling over.

Grenville was leisurely in all this examination. He was either obligedto permit his body to dry in the air or dress while dripping wet. Yetat length he was once more clothed and ready to depart. He remainedfor a moment, taking a final survey of the place and planning thedetails of his blasting operations, then stooped and made his exit fromthe place.

The brilliant light of outer day bewildered him momentarily. He staredbelow, however, as if he felt he might be blind. The raft was notwhere he had left it.

Hastily scrambling down the incline of the ledge, he promptly arrivedat its base. His view was limited, even then, to a segment of theopen, purple sea. But the worst of his fears was confirmed. The rafthad floated away. It was nowhere to be seen!

The tide had run out with amazing swiftness. Its level was such thatthe ceaseless swells ran under his ledge, instead of up about it. Thecreeper-cord, which he had utilized to moor his craft to the bowlders,hung uselessly over the edge. It had parted at once when the ponderousraft had been caught in the swirl of an eddy.

This eddy was running intermittently, as Grenville soon discovered.Disgust with himself for his carelessness, and a vague disquietconcerning his helpless situation, addressed his comprehensiontogether. He was bounded by huge overhanging walls and a waterabounding in sharks. If only by boat could the cavern be reached, thenonly by boat——

He thought of his ladder, dangling in air where he had left it, andbelieved for a second he could hook it in with his pole, still lying onthe rocks. But no sooner had he climbed a little up the ledge, to apoint from which the ladder could be seen, than he realized the follyof his hope. It was twenty feet off at the least, and fully eightabove the water.

The fact that the tide was continuing to fall, that the raft haddoubtless departed the island forever, and that night might find himhere, a helpless prisoner, was no great motive for alarm. ButGrenville was not slow to realize that escape from his predicamentwould be no more readily accomplished on the morrow than it couldto-day—that high tide and low tide were alike of no avail to returnhim to the terrace and Elaine.

The thought of Elaine and the fears she must certainly experience, didhe fail to return that night, aroused a new impatience in his blood.He could almost have made up his mind to slip overboard at once andtake his chances of swimming about the base of the wall, despite itstreacherous currents, had he not remembered the sharks.

"It's the ladder—or night," he murmured, paraphrasing Wellington'sutterance at Waterloo, somewhat grimly, and again he went down to theedge of the shelf of rock left dripping by the tide.

"Elaine!" he called, with a lusty breath, yet without an accent ofdistress. "Elaine! ... Elaine! ... Are you there?"

There was no response, save the swashing of the waves, which he knewwere constantly retreating, leaving the ladder yet more high above theheaving surface.

Once more he shouted as before, perhaps a trifle louder. And again heheard no reply. He began to fear the shelf of rock that projected outabove him might send the sound waves too far outwards, towards the sea,for Elaine on the terrace to hear.

He had no alternative but to shout repeatedly. This he did, at regularintervals, all the time striving to eliminate the slightest accent thatwould rouse her sense of fear. It seemed, however, as if no sort ofcry could bring a response from the top. He moved to another positionat last and tried with a longer, shriller tone.

"Yes! Yes!" came a bright, clear call, at last. "Can you hear me nowany better?"

She had answered before, as he instantly knew, but her voice had beensnatched afar from the cliff by a circular current of wind.

"All right!" shouted Grenville, enormously relieved. "I'm down herebelow and I'd rather return by the ladder. Can you hear me quitedistinctly?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Elaine, whose fears were vast, though she would notbetray them in her voice. "Do you want me to change it—or something?"

"A trifle, yes—as I'll direct you." He paused for a moment to makehis directions as clear and concise as possible. Then he shouted:

"First move a few of the rocks to a point as near the edge as possibleand about ten feet to the left of the present position.... Is thatclear?"

"Yes—very clear—quite clear—— And then?"

"Then lift off the others and remove the ladder—carefully. Mind it'sjust a bit heavy."

He paused, and she cried: "Yes! I hear you!"

"Take the ladder at once to the rocks already placed and roll them onits end, to hold it down."

"Then heap all the others upon it?" Her question came ringing down thecliff.

"Yes—and as promptly—— But don't overtax your strength."

There was no reply to this final instruction. That the quickest ofaction was highly essential, she had felt in the very air. She washotly, valiantly tugging at the rocks before his last words had diedupon the breeze.

He presently saw the ladder-end jerk about spasmodically and ascend forperhaps a foot. Elaine had the weight of it in her hands—and herstrength was equal to the task!

He watched it, his heart wildly thrilling at the thought of her readywit and courage—her certain, sturdy helpfulness in every trying crisis.

With more wild gyrations about the ledge, the ladder-end nowdisappeared. It was gone for a moment only, to return at a point moredirectly above his head. Here it halted, moved about uncertainly, thenlowered jerkily downward, to dangle at last with its last rung all buton the water, some eight or ten feet away. He knew that its upper endwas lightly anchored and would soon be firmly held in place.

He caught up his pole, with the hook at its end, to fish the ladderinward. But, fearing that any untimely tug might fetch it all doublingdown the cliff, he instantly halted the maneuver and compelled himselfto wait.

Five minutes went by—five ages for slowness of movement. He wascertain by then Elaine had made the end too secure to be readilydislodged. He stepped to the outermost edge of the shelf, with thepole horizontally extended.

It was short by perhaps six inches. Strain as he would, he could notreach either one of the rungs or supports. A light puff of wind thenbent it slightly inward, and he fished out wildly, in the hope thediscrepancy thus amended might be wholly overcome.

But his hook still prodded the empty air, while the zephyrs that playedwith the dangling thing seemed solely bent on his torture. The sweatoozed out on his temples, for the straining made him warm. A sense ofdisappointment amounting almost to despair attacked him for a moment.

"I shall leap out and swim!" he told himself, at last. "I'll notremain here for the night!"

He returned to the point from which Elaine had finally been heard.

She did not immediately answer when he called as he had before. Whenher voice came down, he was certain her breath was broken.

"I've—carried the last rock—over—and one or two—extra, besides."

"Right ho!" responded Grenville, cheerfully. "You might stand awaywhile I test it."

He knew that a sudden throwing of his weight upon the ladder mightsuffice to fetch it down. He could not be sure that, with all herready helpfulness and promptness, Elaine had so heaped the rocks aboveas to make the thing secure.

"I can always get back here for the night," he murmured to himself, ashe scanned the swirl below. "And when it calms down from that ballytwist——"

The whirlpool was even then subsiding, in its intermittent way. Hequickly ascended the sloping ledge, the better to run and leap faroutward. His pole he dropped upon the rocks as he hung there poisedfor his plunge. His eyes were keenly fixed on the tide.

The waters became quiescent. Swiftly Grenville darted down the ledge,leaping well out, towards the end of the ladder. He was fairly inmidair when his gaze was directed to a dark form loafing in the depths.

Before he struck, by some quick flirt the huge form rose, cominginward, and a black fin cut through the waves.

CHAPTER XXIV

A DREADED VISITOR

What it was that happened when he felt the waters swiftly rising allabout him Grenville could never have told. He was almost certain hisfoot had come in contact with a heavy, pulpy surface, like a wet thingmade of rubber, as he did his utmost to strike his assailant with hisheel.

He could only be certain that he seemed to plunge downwardinterminably, and that afterwards a horrible rush of waters, lashed toviolence, was sounding wildly in his ears and confusing his staringeyes.

Then he came to the top with a sickening conviction, that one of hislegs would be gone almost before he could feel the incisions of theteeth where the shark was closing upon it. He lurched tremendouslyforward in the water, to close the short but vital gap between himselfand the ladder.

It seemed to him then a nightmare must be binding his limbs toinaction—that incredible time was elapsing while he still remained inthe tide. As a matter of fact, he had moved with prodigious energy,his strokes and velocity through the water phenomenally swift. And,when he caught at the lowermost rung, he shot from the depths like someweirdly living projectile, doubled up in a knot by its speed.

For his knees were drawn sharply upward, and hand over hand he scaledup his swaying support. But his ears heard the hiss where thatterrible fin was cutting the waves beneath him. One quick glance hesped to the place comprehended the turning monster's belly, the openmouth, and even the hideous nose that shot beneath his very foot likethe point of a speeding torpedo.

To the round above he scrambled no less galvanically—only to feel asudden giving of the ladder. A wild conviction of the structure'sinsecurity above—its giving way beneath the incautious strain he hadunavoidably put upon it—scorched its way into his brain, while hestill looked down upon the shark.

But that one slip ended as abruptly as it had come. It was all in therung he had clutched in desperate violence, and not in the ladderitself. Elaine's rock anchorage was firm!

A swift and weakening reaction now ensued in all his being, as he clungthere, dripping but safe. He leaned on the ladder-rung heavily, toregain his breath and strength. He was panting and all but exhaustedfor the moment. When at length he resumed the upward climb, the sharkwas no longer to be seen.

He paused a bit longer on the shelving ledge above to gather his witsin proper order.

"Sidney!" he heard. "Are you coming? Are you there?"

"Well, rather!" he called out, cheerily. "Stopped like a kidto—examine the geological formation." He started upward promptly,whistling as he went.

It was not, however, without a tremendous effort that he finally pulledhimself over the brink, in all the weight of his soaking garments, andstruggled to his feet.

"Why—you're wet!" said Elaine, concealing her hands, which were cutand bruised from the heavy stones she had carried. "Did you have toswim to get the ladder?"

He knew her hands were hurt, but maintained his usual manner.

"I did. But the water is warm—in fact, it was very warm, indeed."

"But couldn't you use the raft?"

"I couldn't," he answered, candidly. "The raft got away while I waspothering about, and, unless it faithfully floats ashore, we may neversee its honest face again."

Elaine's expression brightened.

"I'm perfectly delighted to hear it! Now you never can go there again!"

Grenville was amused at the turn of her reflections.

"But what about the treasure in the crypt?"

"I don't believe there's any treasure in the crypt. There never is,except in wonderful stories. And, if there was, what good could it beto us?"

Grenville met her magnetic gaze, now brightened by her challenge. Itwas not a time to excite new alarms in her heart by divulging the factshe had discovered. For she would be alarmed were she once informed ofthe wealth concealed beneath their feet. She would instantlyunderstand the dangers to them both from the men who had hidden thetreasure.

"Well," he said, with an air of lightness he was very far from feeling,"I confess I'd rather have a good pot of steaming black coffee at thisparticular juncture than all the gold and jewels of the land."

"Oh, please don't mention it!" said Elaine. "Haven't I tried everyleaf I could find, to make you something to drink?" And a wistfulpucker came to her brow that made her more than ever enchanting."You've no idea," she added, "what horrid messes this island foliagecan make."

"Wouldn't wonder," said Grenville, calmly. But, having come to theshaded cave, he was grateful for a drink of cool, sweet water and gladto sit down for a rest.

The subject of the cave was dropped, but his thoughts could not fade inGrenville's mind. They lay in substrata, beneath more homely plans forresuming his interrupted labors. But, beyond going down to dig someyams to roast with a pheasant killed the previous day, he returned tono toils that afternoon. He paused to examine the shell of his boat,which fire, plus his chisel, was finally evolving from the log, and,finding unusual quantities of blackly charred stuff to be gouged awayin the morning, determined to be early at the task.

This plan was one of the sort that "gang aglee." He fished, withElaine, till nine o'clock the following day, to provide a needfulchange of their diet; then placed some fresh signals on their flagpole.At eleven, however, he was once more at his boat, with his firesfreshly blazing. He was working gayly, aroused to a new enthusiasmover final results to be achieved by the excellent progress his formerfires had made upon the log. A few more days of work like that—and hewould have to be thinking of the launching.

This was not a thought he had neglected. In a vague sort of way theproblem of moving his boat to the water's edge had bothered him fromthe first. It would have to be run on rollers, he admitted. Doubtlessa way would have to be cleared through some of the undergrowth.

Reflecting that this was a task to be performed while the fires weredoing their daily stint, he made a preliminary survey of the jungle toselect the most practical route. The way across the grassy clearingwas not only long, but in places inclined to be rough. Fortunately, ineither direction the way was all down-grade.

He had never yet forced a way to the shore through the jungle beyondhis tree-trunk smelter. Thither he wended his way to note what thisroute might offer.

Breaking the branches from before his path, and rather inclined tobelieve a trail might once have been forced through the thicket, he waspenetrating deeper and deeper into the moist and thickly shaded regionwhen he presently halted, almost certain he had heard someone callinghis name.

"Sidney! Sidney!" came the cry again, from Elaine up above him on thecliff. "Sidney! Where are you? A boat! I've seen a sail! There'ssomeone coming at last!"

He had smashed his way out while she was calling.

"A sail!" she repeated, excitedly, the moment he appeared. "Oh,come!—please come at once!"

She disappeared swiftly from the edge, running back, lest the sight belost forever.

Actively, Grenville went bounding across the clearing and up theirnarrow trail. He was panting and eager when Elaine ran forward to meethim, and clutched him by the arm.

"I knew it would come!—I knew it!" she cried, as she hastened hotlyforward at his side. "We must wave things as hard as we can!"

She had guided him swiftly to the great lone tree that stood like theisland's landmark, to be seen for many a mile. She pointed in triumphafar across the sea—and Grenville beheld a tiny sail, like the merestwhite notch in the sky.

"Can they see us yet? Shall we wave?" said Elaine. "They couldn't goby and miss us now?"

She was still clinging fast to Grenville's arm, and tears had sprung toher eyes. What long, long hours of torture, anxiety, and hope she hadexpended, uttering no complaint as the days went by, the man abruptlyknew. Then something indescribably poignant shot boltlike through hisheart.

Elaine felt him harden, grow rigid, as his gaze narrowed down on thedistant thing she had found in their purple sea. The note that brokefrom his lips at last made a shiver go down her spine.

He suddenly turned, and his arm was wrenched from her clasp. He spedlike a madman back to their mast and heaved all his weight against it.He threw back the rocks that held it in place in the crevice to whichit had been fitted.

Before she could follow, to question what he did, Elaine saw him dropthe pole over.

"Sidney!" she said, but the face that he turned wore a look that wasnew to her ken.

"Pull up the ladder from the rocks!" he called. "Then go to theshelter and stay!"

He himself ran to the cavern, to take up their largest jug of water.With this in his arms, he hastened down the trail to quench the flamesbeneath his boat.

And when, with more water, hurried from the spring, he had drowned thelast blue wisp of smoke, he brought the full jug to the cave again andtore down the improvised awning.

"We had better hail death than that craft!" he said, "unless I am verymuch mistaken!"

CHAPTER XXV

AN IRREPARABLE LOSS

Elaine was dumbly appalled for a moment by the words that Grenville haduttered. She finally found her voice.

"But—why? I don't believe I understand. It isn't someone—somehorrible men who hunt human heads for trophies?"

Grenville was glad she knew what a head-hunter means. He loathed thenecessity of making revolting explanations. He vainly wished he mightspare her now—that his judgment might be in error. But the rakishangle of that sail, though so far away on the water, had left him noroom to doubt that natives were manning the craft.

"They may be friendly visitors, after all," he answered. "And thenagain they may not. It may be as wise for us to see them first, anddetermine our conduct later."

"You do fear them, then? But how can we hide—if they land and come upon the hill?"

"They shall never come up—if I can help it! If I only had a few morebombs!" He had gone to his cave and was dragging forth his littlecannon. "I haven't even a hatful of slugs with which to charge thisplaything!"

Elaine had remained obediently at her shelter, in the door of which shestood.

"Won't they see you?" she said, her voice already lowered, as if infear its accents might be overheard where the distant boat wasapproaching. "Have you more old pieces of brass?"

"Some," said Grenville, reluctant to use his remaining metal in such anextravagant manner. "I have nothing else that will answer, hang theluck! ... They can't see us yet, but we'll move about with caution....I wish I had made more powder! I have only a few feet of fuse. I mustget some additional creepers at once and let them dry out in the sun."

He went down to the jungle immediately for a fresh supply of thishighly essential growth, leaving Elaine at the shelter, a prey to dreadthat had utterly obliterated her bitter disappointment. She stooped,to steal forward on the rocks and look for the sail again. It wasstill so far on the sun-lit surface of the ocean that it seemed nonearer than before. She returned once more to the cave.

Grenville came up, fairly laden with freshly severed creepers.

"I've thought of a means for making bombs!" he told her, triumphantly."Perhaps you can split these creepers and take out the cores while I goto fetch some bamboo poles."

"Couldn't I fill them with powder?" Elaine inquired, anxiously. "Iwatched you before. I am sure I would make no great mistakes."

He knew she was nervous, eager to be employed.

"Sure shot you could," he answered, briskly, and, going to the caveemployed as his "powder magazine," he brought her a jar of explosive."Don't be afraid to put in all that the creeper tube will carry," heinstructed. "And tie it with fibers here and there, to keep the edgestogether."

With his heaviest tools he descended at once to the bamboo growth,where he was presently toiling hard. Elaine, no less industriously,was hotly assailing the creepers, held firmly down with heavy rocks, tomake their manipulation easy.

She had filled and bound a considerable length of this simplymanufactured fuse when Grenville returned to the terrace. For hispart, he bore across his shoulder three great long steins of greenbamboo that were three inches through at the base.

"I can cut this stuff at its divisions," he explained, "fill thesmaller sections with powder, and fit the larger ones over them, like ashell within a shell. A natural growth plugs each one up at the end,and I'll also cap each end with a rock, and wrap the whole contraptionabout with creepers. Of course, the fuse will go in first. I wish thestuff were dry!"

The spirit of battle was no less aroused in Elaine, whose mood was theequal of his own.

"Couldn't we use the cannon first—keep them off with that while thefuses and things are drying?"

"It's our only chance, if they raid us by the trail. They can scarcelyarrive for two or three hours more. The tide will be against them——If we keep out of sight, they may not detect our presence."

"Anyway," added Elaine, sagely, "they needn't know how few we are innumbers."

"Right ho!" he answered, cheerily. "The trail is steep and narrow. Wecan train the gun to rake its entire width. For the second shot, andany succeeding charges, we can load the piece with stones—— I'm inhopes our visitors may not land, but we'll keep our fire smoldering,making no smoke; and I'll fetch all the fruit and water we may need fora couple of days."

Elaine looked up at him quickly.

"A couple of days? We may have to fight two days?"

Grenville smiled, suggestively.

"Not if they come within range of the cannon or linger about a bomb.In time of peace prepare for the worst—and then a little extra."

He moved out cautiously, as Elaine had done, to scan the distant sail.He could see that it was steadily approaching. With eager impatiencehe hastened below to lay in needful provisions.

Luncheon was forgotten. When a large supply of fruits and water, withfuel sufficient for perhaps a week of flameless fire, had been storedin the coolness and protection of the caves, Grenville immediately setto work constructing the shells to fill with powder.

This was a task involving much difficult cutting. For this employmenthis tools were not encouragingly suited. Of fuse, Elaine had finallyproduced as much as all his bombs would require, with lengths for thecannon as well.

The gun was finally charged and primed, after Grenville had rebound itto its "carriage." It was lodged in the rocks, where it covered thetrail, and stones were piled abundantly about it. A fuse was laid tothe vent.

From time to time both the exiles had crept towards the one lone treeon the wall, to observe the on-coming boat. By three o'clock of theafternoon the wind had practically failed, but the craft drifted slowlyforward. It was plainly in sight by then—a fair-sized affair with asingular out-rigger and a queer, unmistakable sail. So far asGrenville could determine at the distance, there were three or fournatives aboard.

"If none of them ever go back to tell the tale," he announced, a bitgrimly to Elaine, "we may be all right for quite a time."

She understood at once.

"You think, if they leave, they may return here later—with a largerforce—if they find we are ready for a fight?"

"If they do, we'll not be at home—provided the boat can be finished."

Elaine was evidently thinking much—of the battle that might presentlyensue, with all its unknown results.

"They'd kill us if they could, I suppose, if only to cut—— They arenot human beings, really—the kind we ought not to shoot?"

Grenville could hardly repress a smile.

"If they try to steal the gun, I think we'd be justified in firing. Atany rate, I shall fire first and debate the question later."

Elaine was growing nervous, now that all they could do was practicallyaccomplished.

"Oh, I wish it was over!" she declared. "Do you think they'll attackus soon after landing?"

"They may not land this evening."

Grenville was thinking of the tidal sounds that haunted the island'swall. These were still of considerable volume every day, and,according to his theory, frightened the ignorant natives away. Headded, presently: "You see, they may be aware the tiger was living herebefore we disturbed his possession. In that event they might becautious of landing after dark. They rarely take chances, I believe,by attacking in the night."

"But suppose they arrive an hour or two before sunset?"

"They might, if the breeze should freshen.... We can only wait andsee."

But this waiting was an irritating business, so slowly did the craftappear to move against the tide and so fraught with possibilities wasits visit to the place.

Sitting or stooping behind the rocks, Elaine and Grenville kept aconstant watchfulness on the boat, now less than half a mile away. Itwas apparently becalmed. The day grew old and still it came no nearer.

The sun at length departed from the scene, with the riddle stillunsolved. It appeared to Grenville the day-end breath would havewafted the stranger to the shore. He thought perhaps it did approachconsiderably closer, but of this he was not at all certain.

The brief, soft twilight soon began to wane. At Sidney's suggestion,their simple repast of island fruits was eaten. The fish they hadcaptured in the morning was not cooked, in the absence of the customaryfire. The calm that settled on the "Isle of Shalimar" was far frombeing reassuring. It seemed fraught with silent agencies of fate,moving noiselessly about the shadowed jungle.

When the darkness came down, the mysterious craft was no longer to beseen. Grenville had fancied it drifting rapidly in when he lastdiscerned its form. No lights were displayed upon its mast or deck toindicate its presence off the headland.

Elaine was persuaded at last to retire, though she knew she should notsleep. Grenville remained on guard alone, pacing back and forth fromthe head of the trail to the lone tree reared above the cliff. Hissenses were strained to catch the slightest sound, but none came upwardfrom the sea. From time to time he halted by their smoldering bit ofcoals to assure himself the last of the sparks had not been permittedto die.

At length, far in the silent night, the tidal wailing began, itsweirdness increased an hundredfold by the tension of the hours. Itseemed to Grenville unusually loud, so acute had the darkness made hishearing.

No sooner had the final note died out on the gently stirring air thananswering cries, no less weird and shrill, arose from out upon thewater. The visiting craft had drifted past the headland and wassomewhere off on Grenville's right. The cries from its deck were likea response to some spirit of the island. They were rather more awedthan exultant, Grenville felt, and he fancied some chanting, that cameto him brokenly out of the heavy shades of night, was possibly a prayer.

When he came before her shelter again, Elaine was standing in the door.She had heard the cries from the boat.

"They haven't landed yet?" she said, in a whisper.

"They won't land now till daybreak, and perhaps not then," he answered."Go back—and go to sleep."

"I'll try," said Elaine, and disappeared.

For Grenville, however, there could be no sleep, though the darknessrendered up no further sound. Like the outer sentry of a picket-line,with the enemy close, and his whereabouts unknown, he glided silentlyfrom one dark edge of the terrace to another, as the hours wore on,alert for the slightest alarm.

He finally sat by the head of the trail, convinced that the visitorswould give him no trouble till morning, yet guarding the only way bywhich they could gain the summit of the hill.

He was weary and doubtless he nodded, lulled by the softness of thebreeze that came up at last, burdened with its ozone from the sea.And, despite the fact he was afterwards positive the nod was thebriefest in the world, full daylight was spread to the ends of theworld, and the sun was gilding the island's tufa walls, when at lengthhe started to his feet.

It seemed to him then some sound from below had played through thefabric of his dream. But nothing disturbed the usual calm, save themorning cry of distant parrots. Stooping, he moved through thescattered rocks, to survey the waters far and wide.

There was nothing to be seen, in all that expanse, of the craft thathad ridden near at midnight. All the round of the wall he made in thismanner of caution. When he came at length above the blackenedclearing, where for day after day he had toiled with fire and chisel,he gazed about the open space bewildered and incredulous.

His half-finished boat was gone!

CHAPTER XXVI

AFTER TO-MORROW——

The truth of his loss was hardly to be credited as Grenville continuedto stare below where the hollowed log had been.

There was not a sign of a living thing in the clearing or near-byjungle. There had been no sounds of unusual movement in the thicket,he was sure, or otherwise he must have wakened. No voices had spoken,since his ears had all but ached to catch the slightest disturbance.

On the blue of the sea, so tremendously expanded from this particularpoint of vantage, there was not a hint of a sail. But the factremained his boat was gone, with all the work it represented, and allthe hope their situation had centered upon it for them both.

An utter sinking of the heart assailed him. His moment of sleep, hetold himself, could have been no more treacherous had it been plannedby a scheming enemy to complete their abandonment to some rapidlyimpending fate. And yet had he waked in the gray of the dawn, with hisbombs and fuses still too damp for employment, and his cannon plantedonly to guard the trail, the boat could hardly have been saved. Atmost, his protest would merely have betrayed the fact he was campedthere on the terrace.

A new line of thought sprang into his brain, as one suggestion afteranother was swiftly deduced from his loss. The natives who had landedand carried off his precious craft must certainly have found the wallwith which he had barred the trail. He could hardly doubt they knew ofhis presence on the hill. They might even now be lying in wait to gethim the moment he appeared.

His preconceived theory, that they dared not land while those tidalsounds still haunted this end of the island, received a shatteringblow. Their craft was doubtless hidden now behind either one of theother lofty walls comprised by the neighboring hills. The thieves hadcut off all possible hope of his escape with Elaine by means of hissolid, if crude, canoe, and could finally starve them on the hill, ifthey had no courage for a battle.

Yet how had they happened on his boat and why had they removed it?That they must have carried it bodily down to the shore, through thejungle, was absolutely certain. And this, he thought, argued ahalf-dozen men, though it might have been done by four.

He remained there, stunned by this utterly defeating discovery,watching the thicket for the slightest sign that might betray thepresence of the enemy and revolving the proposition over and over inhis mind. When at last he admitted that the natives might have knownthe log was lying there, if they had not indeed prepared it with firefor some of their uses the previous year, he was more than verging onthe facts. They had felled it solely for a boat—and much of theirwork he had completed.

This line of reasoning did not, however, serve to quiet furtherquestions. The visitors must certainly have wondered how it came aboutthat the log was so nearly hollowed. The clay, still plastered uponit, must have suggested to their minds the work of a craftsman minustools. That the workman must be present on the island would be morethan suspected, since his boat was not even launched.

They might suppose the tiger had captured and devoured him—alwaysadmitting they knew of the brute's former presence on the place. Itseemed far more likely to Grenville they had found his tracks about thespring, his gate on the trail, and the signs of his recent fires andgeneral activity about the region of his smelter, and would thereforeconclude he was still encamped on the hill.

He could fancy a half-dozen pairs of maliciously glittering eyesfastened even now upon the crest and edges of the terrace, all hiddenby the thickets. Had the poisoned dart from a blowpipe come wingingswiftly up from the shadows of the foliage, he should not have beensurprised.

But not a leaf below him was disturbed. Not a sound arose to warn hiseager ears. With a sense of bitter rage and humiliation in all hissystem, he finally crept once more to the trail, and beyond it to thecliff's final shelving.

From this extremity of the heights new aspects of the island were inview, as well as different expanses of the sea. His keen eyes searchedthe jungle and the clearings first, with no more results than before.

It was not until he gazed afar, on the darkening silver of the waters,that his search was at all rewarded. Even then, for a moment he wasnot wholly convinced that what he saw was not a spearlike leaf offoliage projected beyond the clean-cut edge of the farthest of theisland's tufa towers.

But the angle of color detached itself and receded in far perspective.It was plainly the sail of the visiting craft, previously hidden fromhis sight by the hill at the island's end. It was already far on anorthern course, where he should not have thought to find it. Thefreshening breeze was heeling it over gracefully; it would vanish inless than half an hour.

He wondered instantly—had they towed away his boat? Or might theyhave left it moored in some inlet of the island, to be taken upon somefuture visit?

Stifling an impulse to hasten down the trail, and aware that one, oreven more, of the natives might have been left concealed upon theplace, to ambush himself and Elaine, or anyone else suspected of beingpresent on the rock, he remained behind his barrier of stones, no lesscautious than before.

The fact that the entire morning passed in apparent security, withnever the flicker of a leaf below to advertise a lurking menace, couldnot suffice to render Grenville careless or overconfident. He had toldElaine of their loss—which worried her less than himself. Togetherthey maintained an all-day vigilance, half expectant of thesailing-craft's return and keyed to the highest tension of expectancyat every stirring of a shrub below them in the jungle.

Grenville finally armed himself with his bow and straightest arrow, todescend the trail, go quietly over to the spring, and then to the spotfrom which his boat had vanished. About the pool of crystal waterthere was not so much as a track of human boots or feet, other than hisown. There were none to be seen about the foot of the trail, wherethere was ample dust in which they might have been recorded.

Where his boat had lain, with its end on a rock, there were far fewerfootprints in the ash and soil than Sidney could have believedpossible, judging the visitors at only four in number and their tasknot particularly light. Apparently, however, they had landed downbeyond the jungle, proceeded straight to the log, and, wasting no timein wondering how it chanced to be covered with clay or hollowed to ashell, had taken it up, to depart with it as swiftly and directly aspossible.

Even his tools still lay beside the hollow tree utilized for a smelter.The one explanation that addressed itself to his mind as beingplausible was that the visitors, knowing of the log and having plannedto secure it, perhaps in merely passing by the island, had come ashoreso soon as the first faint gray of dawn broke the shadows of thejungle, when they had taken their prize and halted for nothing, noteven a search for whatsoever tools they must have seen had beenemployed.

Once more his original theory of their superstitious fright of theisland's "haunt" seemed to Grenville to be confirmed. He felt thenatives had sneaked ashore—not in fear of himself, since they couldnot have foreknown his presence on the hill, but in possible fear ofsome spirit of the place whose wailing filled them with dread.

Barely less cautiously than heretofore, he followed the faintlyimprinted trail of the boat's mysterious abductors, where it led acrossthe clearing. He was certain now that a cleared path did exist wherehe had partially explored the previous morning. But branches andshrubbery had been freshly cut, as if to insure the silent passage ofthe log.

The lane thus created through the thicket led directly down an easyslope to a broken bit of seawall at the bottom. This, at high tide,would be scarcely a foot above the water. Here the log had undoubtedlybeen rested. Both broken clay and a charcoal smudge recorded theunseen fact.

The entire inlet was no more than twenty feet across. It was boundedon either side by pitted walls that permitted no access to the jungle.The last faint hope of again beholding his precious boat now vanishedfrom Grenville's mind. It had not been moored, nor probably eventowed, but doubtless loaded bodily on the visitor's deck, to be takento parts unknown.

But, if this heavy fact sunk home in his breast, the man was somewhatrelieved, at least, concerning a probable native left behind. He feltpractically certain that none of the crew of the native craft hadstepped beyond his clearing. How much they might guess as to who hadhollowed the heavy log was another matter altogether. He knew thattheir tale would be widely told—and felt that developments wouldfollow.

He went to Elaine, to whom he owed a report.

"I think we're alone on the place," he said, and related all he haddiscovered. "We may as well re-light our fires," he added, inconclusion, "and eat the best our sunny possessions afford."

Elaine could not so promptly recover from all she had undergone. Shestill sat staring at his face, a prey to confused emotions.

"Suppose they had really been friendly, after all—and we let them goand leave us here like that?"

"In that event they may return, since the boat will excite a bit ofwonder."

"You mean they will know, of course, that someone must be here who madeit?"

"It certainly tells that story rather plainly."

She was thinking rapidly.

"Then—if they shouldn't happen to be friendly, they would know it alljust the same—and may still come back to—look us up?"

Grenville nodded.

"I shall certainly go to work with that chance in view."

"Yes," she agreed, "we'll certainly do all we can. But another boatwould take you weeks! After all your patient, tedious work—to have itstolen like that! Oh, I could cry, if I weren't so vexed and sorry!"

Grenville smiled despite his sense of loss.

"Perhaps I can rig some sort of a catamaran," he answered. "But forday and night sailing, such as we would doubtless have before us, thebest of boats would be none too comfortable."

"And we don't know where to sail."

"Well—not precisely."

"Then—what is the first thing to do?"

"Cook and devour a hearty dinner."

"But after that—to-morrow?"

"Thank God for peace—and prepare for war, meanwhile praying it may notcome."

Elaine was grave, but her voice was clear and steady.

"You think it will—that a fight will come? ... I'd much rather knowthe worst."

"So would I!" said Grenville, cheerfully. "We can't. We can only getready to acquit ourselves like—well, like gentlemen, and keep out aneye for a steamer.... Would you mind retreating to the cave I found,if dire necessity arose?"

"I'll go wherever you tell me," she answered, with a smile that went tohis heart. "But of course I can't help wishing that a steamer wouldreally come."

CHAPTER XXVII

A FATEFUL EXPLOSION

With feverish energy Grenville was at work, attempting to achieve adozen ends at once.

Nearly a week of high-pressure application appeared to haveaccomplished so little. Yet a hundred pounds at least of his liveliestpowder had been mixed and stored away, either loosely or packed in thebamboo bombs, of which he had a dozen; much extra bamboo had been cutand brought to the terrace; a new lot of jugs had been molded of clayand were finally being fired in his former smelter; baskets were madeand ready for fruits, should retreat to the cave be rendered expedient,and his first small raft, or catamaran, for gaining the exit to thecavern, was all but ready to launch.

He had taken the bowsprit of the barque and three large stems from thebamboo growth as a basis for this craft. The bamboo stems were firmlylashed together, to act as a mate for the bowsprit. They were heldaway from the latter at a distance of about three feet by some of thefew unrotted bits of board he had torn from the old vessel's cabin,plus more bamboo, split and employed for his platform.

Two half-cylindrical sections of this useful plant he had lashed toeight-foot poles of considerable stiffness to complete a pair of oars.His rowlocks, saved from the smelting processes, he finally tested intheir sockets, where a rigid bridge had been stoutly secured across hisraftlike contrivance, and found them all he could desire. The seat hehad planned to occupy in rowing he abandoned now as quite superfluous.

He felt he must lose no time in draining the cave, for possible use ina siege. There was no other task that had been altogether neglected.The flagpole was once more standing on the terrace; abundant fuse wasmade, dried, coiled, and safely stored from damp or accident, and amold was hardening in the fire for running lead slugs that would makethe cannon effective.

For this latter need he meant to sacrifice his hammer. It, with thelead he had saved before, would supply some six or seven pounds of thisneedful ammunition. Now, as he swiftly braided three slender creepersin a "painter" for his crudely fashioned catamaran, he glanced at thetide inquiringly, and likewise up at the sun. There was over an hourin which to get to the cave, lodge a bomb in the ledge, and blow outthe dam that held back the water, but the tide was still runningagainst him.

With ten feet only of his mooring-line completed, he abandoned thebraiding impatiently, secured one end to his raft at the estuary'sentrance, and, wading in behind the clumsy structure, launched it withone impetuous heave across the sandbar to the sea. Boardingimmediately with his oars, he rowed it far enough only to prove hecould drive it against the tide, and then brought it back to the shore.

"One bomb and a torch," he meditated, aloud. "I can hang the bombacross my shoulder to keep it out of the wet."

The catamaran having been made thoroughly secure, he hastened away tothe terrace. He missed Elaine. She was down at the "smelter,"attending the fire that was roasting the new clay vessels.

With a bomb and his lighted torch in hand—held well apart and not fora moment handled carelessly—he hailed Elaine from the edge of thethicket by the wall.

"Just thought I'd drop around and drain out that water from the cave,"he announced. "Everything's ready—and I've nothing else to do. Whenyou hear the salute, you'll know it's a commonplace affair."

"Oh!" said Elaine, who had her doubts concerning his variousexplosions. "I'll watch to see you from the cliff."

"Well—er—I wouldn't stand just at the edge, you know—not till youknow it's all over."

"You're not going to blow down the hill?"

"Hope not, I've taken a baby bomb, but I didn't wish to let it off tillI'd told you what to expect. I'd keep away, in case of flying pieces."

"I will," said Elaine. "But I'll go up now, and perhaps you can callto let me know how well you have succeeded."

"I'll send you a wireless."

Grenville hastened to his raft. "Please God she may never have to hearme fire another!" he thought, as he went, reflecting on things thatmight happen. He could not have known that only a mild beginning hadbeen made on their programme as scheduled by the Fates.

He was soon rowing eagerly and vigorously against the current of thetide, which would run with lessening velocity for perhaps another hour.When he came to the cave, he promptly discovered why the injunction toenter its mouth at high water only had been made a point in the mysticdirections found with the map in the tube.

The ledge whereon he had landed before was deeply undercut. During atide no more than two or three feet lower than this that would servehim to-day, the place could scarcely be approached, and could never beentered at all. The swirl, which was rarely ever absent from theplace, increased in violence steadily with the lowering levels of thewater.

It was not without some chance of catastrophe that he presently landedon the shelf. He lost little time in securing his painter to therocks, the line so adjusted he could readily slip it from the creviceshould a hasty retreat seem wise.

The task of blasting out the ledge was not a simple matter. To lodgethe bomb where its energy would be directed almost wholly against thedam, or rock, and yet protect it from the trickling stream that couldreadily render it useless, involved an extra toil of piling rocks, onwhich he had not reckoned.

Fortunately, much of the thickest wall was opposed to the pot-hole inthe dam, while one or two extra-heavy fragments from the cliff were solightly poised he could drop them in the breach. Despite these naturaladvantages, however, he labored hotly for fully half an hour before hecould even lay his fuse.

Meantime, his torch was blazing smokily, against his final need ofigniting the match and later exploring for results. At length helooped the fuse along a ragged line of broken honeycomb, where pits hadbeen eaten in the tufa, and trailed it well down to the brink of theledge, with its end propped high between two bowlders.

With one last look at all his careful arrangements, he slipped off hisraft-line, caught up his torch, and was stepping down to board hisfloat when a sharp piece of rock broke away beneath his foot anddropped him forward on his hand.

The torch was flung against the fuse, where it lay along the slope. Heheard it hiss, where the powder had caught, and aware that, by three orfour feet, it was shorter now than he had ever intended to light it, helurched full-length upon his raft and fumbled to clutch up the oars.

But the swirl was on, and the catamaran seemed possessed to bumpagainst the ledge.

In a final desperate outburst of strength, he sent the thing shootingoutward. Its bow would have turned in the whirlpool then, but he droveit clear of the point.

Like a madman he pulled at the clumsy oars, to reach the protectionwhere the wall all but folded the basin from the sea.

His raft was around it—half of the raft—and another good foot wouldhave covered himself, when the blast abruptly boomed.

Even out of the tail of his eye he saw the dull-red flare behind a blotthat represented ragged rock in motion.

A fragment no larger than a man's two fists came as straight as acannon projectile and struck the pitted wall beside his head.

He had ducked instinctively forward, which doubtless saved his life.But dozens of smaller and barely less violent fragments were brokenaway from the edge of the wall by the piece with the meteoric speed.One of these struck him above the ear—and down he went, face forward,on the platform, to hang with arms and shoulders loosely supported onthe bridge that was used for the sockets of his rowlocks.

A rain of loose pieces hissed about in the sea. The cave belched smokelike a suddenly active volcano. The tide took the raft, with itsmotionless burden, and floated it back whence the man had come, but notso close in the shore.

Then up on the cliff, when the shock and hail had subsided from all theair about her, Elaine came inquiringly over to the brink, to receivesome word that all was well.

The smoke still rose from down below and obscured the face of thewaters. There was nothing Elaine could discover. She waited a timethat seemed very long, in her usual determination not to seem undulyalarmed or importunate concerning Sidney's safety.

But at last she called his name.

There was no response. Her uneasiness increased. She called again,and moved along the brink, staring eagerly down at the sea.

Then at last a sound like a stifled moan escaped her whitened lips.She had seen that prostrate, helpless figure drifting down by the shoreon his raft.

CHAPTER XXVIII

WHAT THE BLAST DISCOVERED

Grenville revived, with his characteristic pertinacity. An impulse tosave himself was still alive in his brain. Actuated by its survival,he struggled galvanically to rise.

"Oh, please!" said a voice, that sounded remarkably familiar. "Pleasetry to keep quiet for a little!"

Yet he had to sit up, with one hand to support him, if nothing more.

He was still on the raft, and there was Elaine, on her knees, pullinghard at his oars to drive the float ashore. She was dripping wet fromhead to foot.

For a moment Grenville regarded her blankly, while the situationcleared in his brain.

"What ho, skipper!" he said, a bit faintly. "You didn't swim out tothis contraption?"

"You are bleeding," she answered, tugging no less stoutly at the oars."I thought you might be dead. The tide was floating you away—and Idon't see why—— Won't you please sit still and behave?"

Grenville had felt of his head, then arisen to take the sweeps from herhands, though the catamaran was about to ground on the beach.

"You did swim!" he said. "I should have warned you of the sh—— I'man idiot!—trying to blow my head off!" He knelt on the edge of theplatform and began to bathe his scalp.

"I hate that cave!" Elaine declared, with emphasis. "And I hate thoseawful bombs! I sha'n't have any clothing left, if you go on killingyourself like this every day!" She was tearing another bandage fromher petticoat and felt obliged to scold.

Grenville was not at all certain it would not be decidedly pleasant tobe wounded constantly. It was perilously joyous to be scolded andbandaged by Elaine. He certainly submitted most meekly as she now tiedup his head. He was not deeply cut, and felt considerably aggrievedthat the blow had rendered him unconscious.

"You'll find the skull isn't dented," he observed, "unless it's fromthe inside out."

"There's a great big swelling," said Elaine. "And suppose you had beenkilled?"

Grenville made no immediate reply. He was gazing abstractedly outacross the water. His inner vision conjured up the picture of a brave,unselfish little comrade, swimming fearlessly out to board a raftwhereon a helpless figure was lying—a pale-faced girl who woulddoubtless have had no hesitation had she known of all the sharks in theworld. He could see her scramble on the float to ease him where helay. And then her hot tussle with the clumsy oars, as she knelt on thewave-slopped platform, to urge it and him to the shore!

"I'm a thoughtless brute," he told her, finally. "But I felt the workwas important."

"It is important! I'm sure of that," she answered, at once allcontrition. "But perhaps next time—you might take me along—— Ifanything should kill us both—why, that would be simple and easy."

He understood her thoroughly.

"Quite an idea," he answered, briefly. "I was sure you understood thesituation—— To-morrow I'll go and see what the blast accomplished.I shall have no more explosions, however—so I may not need a chaperon."

She was slightly hurt. His offhand speeches were not always absolutelywelcome, despite her former attitude and declarations. After all, itwas God, she told herself, who had brought this partnership into being.It was He who had cast her into exile with the bravest man she had everknown.

"You mean," she said, "you do not want me along."

"It's the tide that's ungallant," he said. "It objects to anyone'slanding on the ledge."

"But you said I might be obliged to hide there later."

"I did, and till then—let's enjoy the sunshine—while it lasts."

Elaine said no more. The hint of inimical things to come sufficed oncemore to carry her thoughts away from all personal emotions.

They returned in silence to the terrace, Grenville first having urgedhis catamaran within the estuary, to secure it with the line. Thecommonplace duties of their daily existence were promptly resumed, andthe cave as a topic was forgotten.

The following day, while he waited for the tide to rise to its highestlevel, Grenville completed the labor at the furnace, where additionalvessels for water were being permitted to cool. The importance ofbeing enabled to store an unusual quantity of water, should the needarise for such a storage, had early been presented to his mind. He wastherefore particularly gratified to find this present firing of jugsconsiderably more successful than the first.

Elaine was engaged in weaving two nets, in which these clay vesselscould be carried. With a yoke for Grenville's shoulders, or even forher own, a pair of the jugs could thus be fetched at once and the laborthereby materially hastened, should a moment arrive in which such hastewould be wise.

It was ever disturbing to her mind to reflect on this possible need.The thought was never wholly absent from her as she watched thehorizon, far and near, for the steamer that did not come. Not even inher happiest moments—and many were happy, she confessed, despite allthe hardships of their daily life, as they two toiled together, anexiled pair alone in this tropical garden—not even in these was thatsinister, underlying motif too indistinct to be acknowledged. Ithung like a thing in vague suspense above their every occupation,throughout the day and night.

A tremor more tangible played through her breast as Elaine watchedGrenville take a torch as before and depart for the third of his visitsto the cave.

Without consulting the lord and master of the island, she moved herwork from the shelter of her "house" to the cliff-edge, from which shecould watch him a time before he should come to the cavern itself andso be lost to sight.

She was thus enabled, unobserved, to inspect him, to her heart'scontent, as Grenville came rowing his raft along the tide, far downbelow her rocky aerie.

The man was absorbed in the task thus set to be accomplished. He didnot look up, as Elaine thought he might, as he skimmed along under thewall.

When he came to the cave he was somewhat surprised at the wreckage hisblast had accomplished. Not only was the former ledge completelyshattered, but much had fallen below in the sea, while the wall to theright, where the bomb had expended its energy, was agape withnew-formed fissures.

Chiefly concerned with the dam of rock, Grenville secured his raft withboyish impatience and carried his torch ashore. A moment afterwards hewalked through the breach in the erstwhile solid ledge, and couldreadily imagine the roar with which the water, formerly behind thebarrier, had tumbled torrentially into the swirling tide.

There was still a tiny trickle flowing down the channel made by thebomb. The basin formed by the bottom of the cavern was stillexceedingly damp, and here and there it retained a shallow pool ofwater too low for the gateway to drain. He walked about freely,pausing here and there to hold his torch aloft and measure the cave'sdimensions by means of the light from both the open entrance and hisblazing, yellow flame.

He was struck, in gazing at the wall he had broken near the cavern'smouth, with the size of one of the fissures there, where the blast hadwrought its havoc. So black and significant appeared this new-formedaperture that, although a certain eagerness to proceed forthwith to thetreasure niche was upon him, he returned at once to investigate thehole.

What he found upon his first superficial examination was merely acrevice, half as wide as his body, where a plinth of rock had beensplit from the mass and dropped towards the breach in the dam. Intothis crevice he thrust his torch, and was instantly interested to notethat its flame blew decidedly from him, in a draught of air that wasflowing unmistakably upward. Moreover, on lifting himself sufficientlyhigh to look about in the dimly lighted space, he became convinced thateither a second chamber or a passage like a hall existed just back ofthe principal cavern, from which it was partitioned by the wall.

He planted his torch between some loosened fragments and shook at thepiece that blocked this auxiliary cave. He thought he could topple theslab out forwards on the ledge. But, when he rocked it with hiscustomary vigor, it fell abruptly backwards and disappeared in thegloom.

The hole he had thus created was quite large enough to admit him,squeezing in sideways. He promptly entered with his torch, finding thefoothold rough and insecure. The chamber itself was small and low. Hecould readily touch the ceiling.

Ahead it apparently ended in a wall, with a gaping crack. On movingthere, however, he found, to his surprise, an angular turn, still wideenough to admit of easy passage. The way under foot was slightlyupward. It was pitted rock, but surprisingly free from brokenfragments.

Persuaded at once that no other man had ever discovered thischannel-like chamber in the tufa, and that therefore no treasure wouldbe found concealed in its depths, Grenville continued onward withunabated interest, curious to see how far the passage might extend.

It narrowed again, and pierced decidedly upward through the bulk of thehuge rock mass. Obliged at last to stoop too low for comfort,Grenville began to wonder if the thing would never end. It appeared tobe exceptionally straight for a natural tunnel in volcanic rock, butSidney began to realize its upward incline had rapidly increased.

When he presently found himself enabled to stand once more erect, hepaused to cast a light on the walls to confirm a new thought in hismind. He had finally remembered a feature long before noted on top ofthe terrace itself—the long straight crack through the massive towerof tufa and the "slip" that had once formed a shelf.

Not without a certain sort of excited hope did he now discoverunmistakable signs that some convulsion of the island had at one timeactually parted the right-hand mass of rock from the larger portion onthe left and permitted the former to drop. If this channel could onlycontinue——

He went upward again, more swiftly, wondering thus belatedly how far hemight have come and regretting he had not thought to pace the distance.Through a place ahead he was barely able to force his supple body.Then came another passageway that was not only narrow but low.Fragments of stone were likewise under foot, and the passage formedanother angle.

Beyond this turn he found himself confronted by more broken stone and adifficult ascent. But, toiling up there eagerly, he presently raisedhis eyes and beheld a bright white line, as narrow as a streak oflightning.

It was simply a crack through a shattered bit of wall that closed upthe end of the passage. It was daylight—sky—that he saw thusslenderly defined, and the man could have shouted in joy!

He could not, however, escape to the outside world when he presentlycame to the wall. For all the fragments he loosened and threw backbehind him, he could not open the exit, or even determine where it was.Only work outside could accomplish this end, and this he was wild tobegin.

About to turn back and hasten to the terrace, he realized instantly howutterly impossible might be the task of finding the place from without.But Elaine was doubtless on the terrace. If only his voice could becarried to her ears, she could mark the spot at once.

But, although he called with all his lusty might, there was no responsefrom the camp where Elaine was doubtless working. His torch wasburning low, with the draught fanning constantly past him through thechannel. It occurred to his mind to go back to Elaine and instruct herhow she could assist him. He also thought to place his torch againstthe crack and permit its smoke to filter through and perhaps therebyblacken the fissure.

Until he felt he must save what remained, to illumine his way downward,he burned the torch close to the rocks. And thus, when he came to thelarger cave again, he was once more obliged to depart with not even asight of the treasure.

CHAPTER XXIX

AN INTERRUPTED DIVERSION

Not only had Grenville to a small extent succeeded in smudging theoutside terminal of the passage discovered through the rock, but alsoElaine had discovered the smoke so strangely ascending in the air.

She had been thoroughly mystified by the singular sight, but had creptabout the place inquiringly, expecting perhaps a volcano to begin somedestructive demonstration. She had likewise fancied that rumblingsounds proceeded from somewhere in the "mountain." The entirephenomenon had finally ceased, however, greatly to her relief.

On a narrow ledge, some four feet down from the terrace-level, anddirectly beneath the extensive crack that had once been formed in themassive upheaval of tufa, the broken fragments that blocked thesubterranean hallway were wedged to their places in the wall. Theplace was sunk in a shallow niche that was screened by the trees of thejungle.

This ledge Grenville not only promptly rendered accessible, but, afterthe opening had once been cleared, he fashioned a door of the lightestconstruction, that still resembled solid rock, with which to conceal itagain.

His door was of wattle, plastered with clay, which he then thrust fullof tufa fragments. These, when the substance presently hardened, werefound to be substantially cemented to the framework. The clay itselfdried yellowish gray and could hardly be distinguished from the rock.He was thus enabled to plaster over all the chinks and other raggedopenings which the door could not completely cover. When the job wasdone, not the faintest suspicion of anything unusual about the nichecould the keenest eye have discovered. Grenville was none the lessglad, however, that the tallest foliage of the near-by growth stillfurther concealed the spot.

He was toiling no less feverishly than before, thankful each day thatthe tidal wailing still continued and anxiously watching the round ofthe purple horizon for the cut of a rakish sail.

Despite the fact that several days had passed since the passage wasdiscovered, he had made no effort to return to the treasure cryptbelow. The communicating gallery was too important to be neglected.He had spent long hours in its upper reaches, clearing the rock fromunderfoot, to make its use entirely practical for Elaine and himself inall conditions, either with or without some needed burden.

He had managed to widen the narrowest squeeze by chipping the rock withhis chisel. He had carefully rearranged the broken fragments downwhere the corridor entered, or branched from, the cavern, and thereprovided a second of his wattle doors, considerably heavier than thefirst and more artfully studded with stone. This he had made to beadjusted from without or within the passage it concealed. From withinit could also be barred in place with a heavy billet of the toughestwood his brazen tools would shape.

This late afternoon, when the last of his jugs had been taken down andconcealed by the spring, all ready for filling and carrying back themoment occasion should arise, Grenville felt that, save for a meatsupply, he had made nearly every possible provision against attack andsiege.

The day was practically spent. He glanced at the sun. Undecidedbetween an hour of hunting with his bow and a quick excursion down tothe crypt of treasure, he remembered certain ornaments Elaine mightwear and decided to go for the gold and gleaming jewels. They had meatfor dinner, already being roasted in a sandpit with several newlygathered yams.

Elaine, with a basket of tempting fruits, returned to the terrace fromthe thicket before he was ready for his trip. The fact that he bore atorch and basket aroused no query in her mind, so frequently had hemade his underground excursions.

He left the door at the gallery entrance open and made an easy descent.Glad to be independent of both the tide and his raft, he paused when hecame to the main cave's ragged opening, for a moment thoroughlystartled.

The weird tidal wail had just commenced, so close at hand it echoed allthrough the place. It had never before occurred while he was actuallyin the cavern. Immediately rendered curious to see whence and how itwas produced, he hastened down the outside ledge, completely baffled bythe intermingled reverberations.

He had barely concentrated his attention on a certain hole in the rock,below the tidal level, when the last uncanny moan seemed choked to ahorrible gurgle which could not be renewed.

The thing had never before been so brief or so abruptly ended. Itsbrevity jarred upon him no less unpleasantly than its prolongation haddone when he and Elaine first arrived upon the island. As if theoccurrence sounded a warning not to be mistaken, he proceeded at oncewithin the cave.

His mind was filled with thoughts of native visitors, who might only bewaiting for this natural phenomenon to cease before they came swarmingacross the sea, perhaps to search and loot this very cavern. Hereflected they might have searched it before, and had either beenbaffled by the water it formerly contained or had missed the niche hisaccidental interest had discovered.

Though he thought that less than half the wall he had previouslyassaulted could now remain in the arch of the treasure cavern, yetfully a half-hour's labor was essential before he could worm his wayinside where the gold and the stones dully glittered. He cleared out afew more stones to admit his carrying basket.

A thrill went through him as he laid his hands upon the pricelesstreasures disposed in the tomblike place. Notwithstanding the fact thecave had been scaled, almost hermetically, a coating of thin,impalpable dust veiled everything he touched. The things hadundoubtedly been here years on years, till perhaps tradition only stillaffirmed their existence, while old fanatics might, for generations,have persisted in tattooing that "map" on some victim's breast for thecavern's living concealment and the faithful preservation of itscontents.

The gold was all wrought in ornaments—like anklets, bracelets,amulets, and girdles. It had all been crudely pounded into shape fromvirgin metal. There were pieces of odd, unfamiliar shape, the uses forwhich could hardly be conjectured. It was all of it heavy and massive,many pieces crudely resembling cumbrous seals with mystic devicesstamped on either side.

Of the stones—comprising principally diamonds, rubies, andsapphires—many were still uncut, while others, by the handful, werecrudely mounted in hammered gold to form girdle after girdle. A crown,exhibiting nothing of the jeweler's modern or even ancient craft, wasnone the less of extraordinary intrinsic value for the heft of goldthat formed its band and the huge stones thrust rudely through itssubstance.

Despite his impatience to collect the lot in his basket and depart theplace, Grenville remained there inactively, absorbed in a study of thispiece or that, to identify, if possible, the curious workmanship. Thatmuch, if not all, the gold work argued craftsmen of the African wildshe felt convinced. But the stones could have come from India only, hewas sure, either through tribute or plundering, and the latter was byfar the more likely method.

He had heard from one of his oldest friends, who was likewise the bestinformed of all his military acquaintances, that the West CoastAfricans still conceal vast treasures of kings or chiefs deceased, suchburied wealth to be utilized by former possessors in some life beyondthe grave. That this hoard, by some strange and unusual chance, hadresulted from that barbaric practice he felt there could be no doubt.The fact it was hundreds of miles from Africa argued nothing againstthe theory, since either by imitation or as a result of far excursionsover sea the present collection could have landed here in thisremarkably hidden and "spirit"-guarded cave, where even the hardiest,cleverest seeker of fortune would never be likely to search.

He was still engaged, like some merely scientific archeologist, inexamining piece after piece of the metal, or one after another of thestones, which were cut as never he had seen them before, when hefancied some weird, faint echo called his name.

With pounds of the trinkets in his hands, he returned to the brokenheap of stones he had lately overthrown. Out of the ringing silence ofthe larger cave came a distant wisp of sound——

He knew that Elaine was calling from somewhere in the passage.

It was only the work of a moment to catch up his basket and place inits hold the small stone sarcophagi of jewels. Carelessly then, on topof these, he swept in the ornaments of gold. They fell, dully ringing,from the shelves, where perhaps they had lain for above a century—aheterogeneous collection which he was sorry to disturb till the variouspositions in which they had been disposed could be noted and remembered.

He was certain no less than a hundredweight of the treasure taxed hisstrength when he presently lifted his burden from the place and bore itacross the larger chamber.

Elaine was calling again. Her voice was clearer in the passage.Grenville came there, panting from his effort, with his dusty anduseless riches. He answered at once on entering the gallery, where hepaused to close and secure his concealing door.

"Please come!" was the cry, in response to his shout, like an unrealvoice from the blackness of a tomb. "They're here! They're close tothe island!"

With a short but inarticulate ejacul*tion, Grenville once more took uphis basket, blundered forward with it a few feet only, and set it downagainst the wall. Why he had paused to bother with it, for a moment hedid not understand. With his torch flaring back, in his greater speed,he plunged along and up the passage.

Around the first of the sharper angles he came upon Elaine. She hadbrought no torch, in her hurry to sound the alarm, but had groped herway downward through the Stygian blackness of the gallery, calling timeafter time as the gloom rendered up no reply.

Her eyes were dilated wildly, from her efforts to see in the dark. Herface seemed intensely white against the impenetrable ebon.

"Oh, I thought you'd never come!" she said, as Sidney approached withhis light. "They were almost up to the island before I dreamed such athing could be! The tree must have hidden the sail!"

Grenville placed the torch in her hand and urged her upward before him.They presently emerged on the ledge.

He had no more than crept to the terrace-edge and studied the craftbelow on the sea than he came once more to Elaine.

"No use in striking our flag," he said. "They've seen it. We'll flyit till the end."

CHAPTER XXX

REVEALING AN INTENT

The native ship, that had sailed unobserved within almost hailingdistance of the headland, was not the one that had come to the islandbefore. It was larger. Six men at least comprised its crew, avillainous-looking collection.

Grenville had seen them close at hand, as they passed by the entranceto the cave. That they contemplated an immediate landing seemedprobable, making as they were towards the crescent indentation along bythe estuary's mouth.

Sidney had lost little time in vain regrets for the hour spentuselessly below. He had gone at once to the gallery and hidden itsentrance with the door. He had caught up Elaine's well-finished netsand the pole for a yoke she had been working to complete when thevisitors' sail was discovered and, only pausing to make certain hecould not be seen, went at once to the spring for extra jugs of water.

The sun was already dipping redly in its bath when he brought his firstburden to the terrace. He paused to observe the maneuvers of the ship,now coming about in the sunset breeze, just off the tiny inlet wherehis catamaran was moored.

The queer sharp sail was reefed while he was watching. He saw threemen heave overboard an anchor, which promptly sounded the shallowdepths where the strange craft presently swung.

Considerably to Elaine's discomfort of mind, he hastened once more downthe trail. She was certain the Dyaks would go to the spring beforeSidney could got away. However, he brought another pair of jugs, anarmful of fuel, and a basket of fruit with the greatest possibleexpedition.

The boatmen made no movement to come ashore as long as the twilightrevealed them. The highest notes of their voices floated indistinctlyto the terrace, towards which the men were frequently seen to gesture,but even these sounds were finally lost as darkness enwrapped theisland.

Despite the fact that four of his water-jugs still remained in thethicket near the spring, Grenville made no more trips for water thatevening, since Elaine was obviously distressed by the thought of therisk he might incur.

He was awake all night, maintaining the life of their smoldering fire,and alert for any signs or sounds of movement in the clearing by thetrail. In one of the darkest hours before the dawn he heard thefamiliar wails and moans of the headland cave rise briefly on the wind.

From the anchored ship the cry was returned, as on the former occasion.After that a droning chant came fitfully up from the darkness of thewaters, to die at last in the silence. Later he heard a shout, andthen vague accents of speech. But, when daylight arrived, the crafthad disappeared.

Elaine had not yet risen. Grenville quietly moved from one extremityof the headland to the other, searching the sea in all directions. Hewas soon convinced the visitor had not decamped, but had moved thevessel to one or another of the island's hidden inlets, that itsmovements, as well as those of its crew, should be no longer observed.

One lingering hope, which he had fostered in his breast, that thenatives might not prove a bloodthirsty lot of head-hunters after all,he felt he must definitely abandon. This furtive move under cover ofthe dark was not the sort of maneuver to excite one's trust orconfidence.

Elaine was standing in her shelter door when at length he came oncemore to his place by the top of the trail. She, too, had discoveredthe absence of the native vessel.

"I think another one came in the night," she said, when Sidneyexplained his belief that the boat was in hiding behind the fartherwalls. "I am sure I heard another voice."

Grenville recalled the shout that had followed the chanting and feltthat this accounted for Elaine's conviction that more of the Dyaks hadarrived.

"We have not been actually seen as yet," he assured her. "Our flag ofdistress is not a positive sign of anyone's presence on the island. Weshall soon determine by their movements whether these chaps intend tobe friendly or not."

"Would they hide if they meant to be friendly?"

"It isn't a friendly sign—— You see, I'm still of opinion theisland's wail is a sound they rather dread. Have you noticed it'srapidly failing?"

"I've been ever so glad it seems so short and growing fainter."

"Yes," he drawled. "I'm afraid it will soon cease altogether, when ourfriends may buck up their courage and—show us their state of mind."

"What can we do in the meantime?"

"Sit tight and watch for developments."

But all that day there was never so much as a sound or a sign of thecrew they had seen arrive. At one time, just before noon, Grenvillefancied some movement occurred in the rocks that crowned the secondhill. But he detected no further indication that someone might havescaled the cliff to spy on himself and Elaine.

He had never in his island rambles discovered a place by which thathill could be surmounted. That easy access might be obtained on theseaward side he readily understood. He fretted under the longsuspense—the uncertainty brooding over the island. He much preferredthat the visitors exhibit a downright hostile intent than to feel thatbeneath the sinister calm of thicket and jungle might lurk insidiousdeath.

He felt that Elaine and himself would lack for nothing, except freshmeat, for at least a couple of days, yet he knew that even their fruitsupply was wholly inadequate for a siege, should the new arrivals makeup their minds to starve them on the terrace. Rather than weaklysubmit to any such abominable tactics, he was fully determined to bringabout an attack. But how was an open question.

When once again the night drew on the man was impatient and weary. Hehad taken no rest after all his long previous day of toil, yet to sleepand invite disaster up the trail was quite impossible.

"We shall have to divide the night," said Elaine, with her customarypractical courage. "We have simply got to be sensible to preserve ourstrength in case we have to fight."

Grenville consented to give her the watch till midnight. The island'swail in the late afternoon had seemed no fainter than that of theprevious day. He was quite convinced there would be no night attack.Yet he stretched a cord across the trail that must pull at his arm andso give an alarm should anyone enter at his gate.

Doubtless in this confidence he fell asleep with more than usualpromptness. He was far more weary than he knew, and Nature demandedher dues.

Elaine was glad he could slumber so profoundly. The night was barelycool; she was not in the least uncomfortable as she sat at Grenville'sside. She knew he would waken at the slightest tug on the cord soquickly contrived to warn of an enemy's approach, and therefore felt adecided sense of security, despite the living silence of the night.

Long before midnight she was tense with nervous apprehension. Soundsfrom the jungle arose from time to time where some animal prowled forits prey. A whisper came up from the waves that lapped the cliff, andhaunted the air as if with spirits. She had steeled her heart,however, and would not weaken by a jot. The hours would wear awaysomehow, and meantime—Sidney was resting.

She did not arise to walk about as Grenville would have done. Insteadshe sat there, stiffly alert, turning her head from side to side, asthe minutes dragged heavily by, listening, staring through thedarkness, fancying shapes had begun to move in the shadows of the rocks.

It was finally late in the dead of night when a sound of unusualheaviness arose from the brink of the cliff. Had someone dropped arock in the sea, the disturbance could scarcely have been clearer.

It had come, she thought, from over beyond the great black tree thatloomed against the sky. She wondered if perhaps she ought to speak toSidney. She put out her hand to touch him lightly on the shoulder, butwithdrew it again with a smile. He was sleeping so like a tired boy!

The sound had doubtless been nothing to rouse the slightest alarm. Ifit came again——

It did come again, less loud and distinct, but none the lessunmistakable. Her heart responded immediately with a quicker, heavierbeat. Perhaps she should try to ascertain the source or the cause ofthe noise. She should feel so ashamed, so weak and burdensome, toGrenville if she woke him for nothing at all. To look about wasassuredly part of her duty while on guard. It was only a step to theedge of the terrace, across familiar ground.

Chiding herself for unwarranted timidity and lack of courage, shesilently left her seat at last and stepped from Grenville's side. Oneof his sticks was lying near. She took it in her hand. Then overthrough the shadows she glided as noiselessly as a spirit, goadingherself to the ordeal with thoughts of the bold and fearless manner theman would show were he in her place on this safe and childish excursion.

She had heard nothing more, though she frequently paused to hold herbreath and await a further sound. It was wholly absurd, she toldherself, for her heart to pound so madly. Just there to the brink,past those few large stones and shadows, and she would probably hearsome slopping of the waves that would quiet her liveliest suspicion.

Despite her utmost efforts, however, she could not stand upright as shewent, and she could not continue quite to the edge without one or twomore pauses to catch her breath that would not come calmly to her lips.But she forced herself all the way—save just the final cautious edgingto the scarp, where she suddenly knelt and leaned a little forward.

She was still a bit short of the brink, but remained where she was tocalm her heart and listen. She could hear the water plainly. She feltentitled to arise and hasten back to Sidney—since of course there wasnothing further to be heard.

But, before she could gather the strength to rise, a series of short,percussive sounds all but froze the core of her heart—so much did itseem like someone heavily panting.

Then, as she sat there staring helplessly at the jagged edge, four darkthings—four fingers—crept actively over the lip of the wall—and aface abruptly followed, with a knife between its teeth!

"Sidney!" she cried, and, madly thrusting the stick she had broughtagainst the dark and hideous countenance, she arose and fled wildlyfrom the place.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE SILENT VISITORS

Grenville came running across the rock-strewn terrace as if guided bysuperinstinct. He fancied a sound like a heavy splash arose from thebase of the shadowy wall, and momentarily sickened to the bottom of hissoul with the thought that Elaine had fallen over.

He saw her darting towards him a moment later, however, and caught herprotectingly in his arms as she stumbled on a rock and plunged headlongagainst his breast.

She instantly regained her foothold and clung to his arm, brokenlystammering her story and facing back the way she had come to show wherethe loathsome apparition had appeared above the brink.

Sidney hastened there at once, armed only with a stone. Elaine, in aviolent tremble, stood a few feet only away, having followed inunabated dread.

Not another sound could Grenville detect as he leaned above theprecipitous plunge attempting to pierce through the shadows and gloom,as he watched for some movement below. Whether the man had fallenbackward from the lip, to go hurtling down through the darkness, orwhether he had accomplished some swift and silent retreat, Sidney hadno means of ascertaining. Only the ceaseless lap of the tide made awhisper in the air.

He arose and returned to Elaine.

"I had no idea the cliff was scalable," he told her, quietly. "I doubtif that means of spying will be attempted again—— It was a beastlyway of showing their intentions towards us, but I'm glad to know whatto expect."

"Where has he gone?" Elaine faintly chattered. "If he should only bewaiting to come again—— Such a horrible fright—— I don't know whyI didn't faint, or what I did. I'm so weak I can hardly walk."

"Oh, you're as right a trivet!" said Grenville, with a readycomprehension of the need of keeping up her courage. "You can nowretire with a comforting sense of having saved the night."

But Elaine's sense of comfort was a woefully negative quantity. Shewas shaken to the center of her nerves. She dreaded to be left for amoment.

Grenville, however, sent her off to bed in the most peremptory manner.A realizing sense that their trials had only well begun was his onedeeply settled conviction.

"Cheer up!" he said to her, finally, "the worst is still to come."

"I'll try," she answered, courageously. "But please don't let it cometo-night."

For more than two hours she did not sleep, or even close her eyes.Then she dragged her couch to a space outside her door. Every movementmade by Grenville, as he watchfully policed the edge of the terrace,she thus followed for a time, half rising beneath her tiger-skin rug inher dread to hear him go.

When she finally slept she dreamed once more of the murderous eyes, theclenched white teeth, and the flame-shaped blade she had seen at thebrink of the cliff. Grenville heard her laboredly call his name as inher dreams she once more underwent her disturbing ordeal, but he didnot move from his seat.

At dawn she was slumbering more peacefully, a smile on her lips as shelay there facing his position. What a royal little princess of theisland she appeared with her colorful robe lying out upon the rocks,her hair so much more golden than the tawny hide, and the warm, healthyglow restored once more to her cheeks!

Grenville was sure he had never half appreciated the wonder andabundance of her hair, the darker penciling of her arching brows, thedelicate beauty of her features.

He presently once more bent his attention on the island that renderedup never a sign.

Neither the jungle, the summits of the further hills, nor the sea thatstretched interminably about them enlightened his searching eyes. Savefor that night experience, it might have seemed preposterous thatenemies existed in the miniature world by which they were surrounded.

He crept in his cautious manner to the crumbling edge where Elaine hadseen the face. There was nothing below in the water. He could readilyfollow the bits of shelf and succession of pits in the wall, however,whereby a daring, barefooted native might grope his way to the summit,even in the dark. It would doubtless be possible here, he reflected,to explode a bomb against the pitted surface and break away so large acavity as to render all future ascents impossible. But this was a taskto be deferred for a time, since he had no wish to acquaint thevisitors oversoon with the fact that he possessed an explosive.

When he returned to the shelter again, Elaine had waked and carried hercouch to the cave. Despite the fact the hour was early and the sunonly well above the ocean's rim, she declared she had rested muchlonger than was either wise or essential.

Yet there was nothing to do for either, now that the day was begun.Their breakfast of fruits was soon concluded, then of occupation therewas none. Grenville felt it inadvisable to move about too freely onthe terrace, and thereby risk betraying the fact they were only two innumber. A watcher stationed on the second hill could not, as a matterof fact, examine the entire top of the terrace, or even discern itsprincipal features, but he might ascertain decidedly too much, shouldthey carelessly expose themselves to view.

The morning proved for Grenville another exasperation. He thought ofnothing by way of labor he could advantageously perform. Theirdefense, though crude, was fairly complete, and could scarcely beimproved. To watch the edge of the jungle, hour after hour, wherenever a sign was vouchsafed his vigilance, was a dulling inactivity,yet a highly essential precaution that was not to be neglected.

By noon he was fairly in a mood to seek out the island's invadersalone, to hasten some definite action. That the natives intended tostarve them into a visit to the spring seemed all too obvious.Grenville felt assured, however, the water down in the cavern wouldsuffice for their needs, if no better could be relied upon, when oncetheir jars were empty, while gathering fruit would not be whollyimpossible under cover of the night.

With the thought in mind that only the trail would be kept under watchby the Dyaks, he made up his mind he could readily contrive aladder-like platform to extend from the brink, whereby the distance tothe nearest tree might be conveniently bridged to permit easy access tothe jungle. Of creepers and extra bamboo poles he had laid in amplestock. For the lack of better employment, he began the construction ofhis bridge when their meager luncheon had been finished.

His mind, as he worked, spun schemes innumerable for the daily defeatof the natives. Aware that as long as the terrace could be heldstarvation and thirst would be their only unconquerable enemies, heentertained no end of plans for catching fish without bait and eventrapping or fishing up small animals that might rove at night below thecliff. From these reflections he returned to the men who prowled aboutthem after dark.

To secure his cord across the trail and thereby provide an alarm, ornotice of the enemy's approach, from that direction, was a very simplematter. When he finally invented, in his mind, a singular "rattle" toguard the approach by the cliff, he dropped all employment on thebridge at once and began forthwith on the other.

What he made was a series of bamboo buckets, or cuplike sections of thehollow tube, with stones suspended inside to knock against the wallswhen the things were lightly shaken. These he intended to hang, onebeside another, in a line from the brink of the wall, where a climbermust strike them unawares and sound a resonant warning.

But he found, on hanging a pair some ten feet down along the face,where the man had climbed in the night, that the wind would sway themto and fro against the rock and constantly ring their hollow tones.

This defect he presently remedied by forming a frame, some ten feetlong and one foot wide, in which all his cups were suspended, ormoored, both top and bottom. They were thus so lightly hung that thesmallest jar against the frame would joggle them all to musicalutterance, while the wind could have no effect on any single one.

The entire frame was lowered down till it rested a bit unevenly on twoprojecting shelves of rock, where it leaned a trifle outward like apicture on a wall, as the creepers that held it from falling werefinally made secure. When Grenville, by way of a trial, nudged it oncewith a pole thrust down against it for the purpose, it rattled out adecisive alarm that one could have heard from the trail.

Grenville thereupon brought out a bomb from his store and lowered itdown below the frame, and six or eight feet to the side. This wassecured not only by the fuse, but likewise by more of the creeper.

Elaine, who during his absence had maintained the watch of the trail,now ran to the place, at Grenville's signal, for a moment's inspectionof the whole arrangement and instruction concerning its use.

It was while they were there that the haunting wail arose for a gaspingspasm. It had practically failed. Sidney doubted if its loudest notecould have been heard as far as the spring. But still the end of thetiresome day developed no attack.

Grenville was completely puzzled by the tactics the boatmen hadadopted. That they knew Elaine was present on the terrace there couldbe not a shadow of doubt. Even if the man she had thrust away from thecliff-edge fell to the sea and was dashed to pieces, or drowned, hisfriends who had brought him around to the place must have heard hervoice and recognized its feminine quality.

They would likewise know she could hardly be alone, and would guess hercompanions were not numerous or likely to be armed. No plunderedwreckage lay about the shore from which castaways could have drawnammunition or rifles. It was utterly impossible for any ignorantnatives to imagine the loading of a cannon or the making of bombs frommaterials on the place.

What, then, was the reason of their long delay? They could scarcely bewaiting for reinforcements. They would hardly be dreading the island's"spirit" now, since the sounds had practically ceased, and one man haddared ascend the cliff with a knife between his teeth. That theyfeared an open attack by day and dreaded the tiger by night was theonly tenable theory that Grenville could devise.

Yet the fact of the matter was that, until the cavern "spirit" shouldbe absolutely silenced, the superstitious Dyaks could only be forced bythe bulldozing threats and ferocity of their fiendish leader to setfoot upon the land. It was he who had sent the climber up the wall,having thrust a pistol behind the fellow's ear. A certain tragicoutcome of this premature adventure had been wholly attributed by thevictim's companions to the anger of the wailing soul who inhabited theheadland.

The bridge, constructed of bamboo supports, was a simple affair,completed and ready by sunset. Before the darkness was absolute,Grenville conveyed it along to the eastern jutting of the cliff, slidit down to a ledge below the level of the terrace, and easily thrustthe end across to the nearest tree, where it rested securely on thebranches.

He found that it bore his weight remarkably well. With an ordinarylength of pliable ladder he could reach the ground beneath the treewithout the slightest difficulty, thereby escaping all the undergrowthand broken rock that would render a straight descent from the brink notonly a noisy piece of business, but likewise one of considerable hazardand discomfort. And descending thus, instead of employing the trail,he could certainly expect to escape the shrewdest observation on thepart of any native set to watch for some night adventure.

Indeed, so alluring became the prospect of leaving the hill, to conductsome helpful and informing explorations, that he could scarcely waitfor the shadows of night to settle on the island before he should testhis apparatus.

Elaine was frankly and confessedly alarmed when at length he couldresist the temptation no longer and announced his intentions forexpending a portion of the evening.

He set an alarm at the gate on the trail, however, and, arming himselfwith his heavy, cleaver-like implement for chopping, instructed hisworried companion to fire the cannon without delay should attackdevelop in his absence.

"I am sure you will have no visitors, but, in case you do, don't waitto see who it is, or how many," he said; "let the little gun count thenumbers."

"But suppose—it might be you!"

"I shall not return that way. You may look for me back in fifteen ortwenty minutes at the most. I feel it's important to know what isgoing on, as well as to gather a bit of fruit, and see what I may beenabled to do by way of setting some traps for game. If one of mysnares could be brought a trifle closer, it might provide us with themeat we certainly ought to have."

Without another word, she watched him depart for his bridge and ladderto the jungle.

CHAPTER XXXII

DEATH AS A BROTHER

Despite the ease with which, in theory, he expected to descend to theground, Grenville was fully ten minutes escaping from the tree.

A number of twigs that he could not have passed without creating adisturbance he cut away with his knife. His ladder was also badlycaught and stubbornly refused to be adjusted. One violent rustling ofa heavy limb he caused when it finally slipped straight down, with hisfeet all but striking on the ground.

He remained perfectly silent, ready for immediate retreat, regaininghis breath and straining his ears for the slightest sound, for a long,uneventful minute. When he finally drew his sharp brass cleaver fromhis pocket and started through the thicket, there was not the slightestsound in all the region about him, either of animals or men.

Into one of the numerous wild creatures' trails he found his way withgreater ease because of his thorough familiarity with all that end ofthe island.

The trail, as he knew, led down by the spring, where a branch woundfirst towards the estuary and then across the bed of the rill, where itcut the path through the axis of the island.

Almost as noiselessly as one of the creatures hunted or hunting in thehours of blackest shadow, he made his way down to the rear of the pool,where he paused as before to listen. The squeal of some littlenocturnal beast and the patter of something paddling about in the waterconvinced him at once the Dyaks were certainly not there, or else weremost skillfully hidden.

With a steadily increasing conviction that the boatmen would stick totheir craft at night, he felt his boldness strengthen. The importanceof discovering the enemy's position was duly impressed on his mind. Hefelt that once he could gain the principal pathway down the island'slength he could follow the edge of a narrow bit of clearing, off to theleft of the rotting old barque, and thus arrive above the inlet, wherehe was certain their vessel was concealed.

No less quietly than before he continued out around the spring, thenturned to the left, in the narrow runway of the animals, and emergedbehind the estuary, where absolute stillness prevailed.

He presently fancied, as he slowly continued towards the old-timewreck, that a murmur of distant voices arose from off at the left.This became a certainty when he reached his irregular clearing.Moreover, he was halfway only down this slope of rock and thicket whensimultaneously, out on the tide, some eighty or ninety feet apart, twomatches were lighted, as he could see, for pipes or cigarettes.

Elaine had been right! There were two of the boats that were anchoredhere together!

But, although more murmurs continued to arise, where a desultoryconversation was from time to time renewed on either craft, he could byno means ascertain either the number of the Dyaks or what it was ofwhich they talked. Satisfied with what he had discovered, and certainnow the fellows were afraid to remain on the island after dark, hereturned up the slope with an easier stride, determined to see whatmight be done by way of collecting some fruit.

He came once more to the main trail through the island, pausing tohearken once again as a sound of splashing in the inlet cameuncertainly on the breeze. Doubtless the crew had dipped a pail ofwater, he thought, or thrown overboard some refuse from their dinner.

He had no more than headed again towards the hill where Elaine waswaiting, and swung about from the branch to the principal trail, when,without the slightest warning sound, he suddenly and heavily collidedwith someone moving as noiselessly as himself in the opposite direction.

He only saw that the man thus encountered was bare of shoulders andtaller than himself as he thrust out to fend the fellow off. He knewon the instant it was one of the boldest of the head-hunters, if notindeed their chief.

The fellow had grunted at the impact, and, quick to discover it was nota member of the vessels' crews, abruptly sounded one triumphant yell ashe reached for his knife and lunged forward.

There were answering cries from a few feet only behind him—whichGrenville heard as he crashed precipitately through the near-by thicketand made for the trail to the barque.

The hue and cry was instantly raised as the fellow pursuing came wildlythrough the jungle on his track. Shouting instructions to hisfollowing, this obvious leader of the prowling band continued asclosely as possible on Grenville's heels, while the others headedswiftly towards the estuary, convinced that their man would dart aroundand make for his camp on the hill.

The chief of the natives entertained the same belief, as Grenvilleimmediately comprehended. Having planned exactly as they had supposedhe would, Sidney altered his course on the instant, dived down onall-fours in an animal path he had frequently followed before, and thuscrept noiselessly off to the left, once more towards the plunderedwreck.

Almost at once an ominous silence reigned as before in the place. Thenatives, having soon missed their quarry, stood perfectly still, atcommand of their chief, to listen and gain a new guidance.

Tempted to put all possible distance between himself and his pursuers,Grenville continued on, a bit incautiously. A branch he had thrustfrom before his face slipped back before he had intended its release.At once the listening head-hunters plunged forward again in hisdirection.

Fortunately, Sidney retained his presence of mind and continued tocrawl on hands and knees, instead of attempting swifter flight throughthe branches that closed above the trail. With the sounds of his eagerenemy approaching to a sweat-starting proximity, he dared lie perfectlymotionless on the earth, till he heard them quietly exploring as beforeon the lines he must take to regain the terrace at the rear.

As silently now as a shadow, he wormed his way forward as before. Hehad gained perhaps a matter of twenty or thirty feet in this mannerwhen, on coming at last to the edge of the clearing where the oldbarque lay, he heard the natives beating back, convinced that he hadnot passed.

For one moment only was he seized by indecision. Then he darted acrossthe clearing unobserved and, slipping between the ribs of the wreck, ashe had on a previous occasion, went rapidly groping to the cabin, wheresat the mummy-skeleton in chains.

He had not achieved this maneuver in absolute silence, havingsacrificed something to speed. Two of the head-hunters broke throughthe fringe of the thicket with furtive swiftness, as he noted through ahole in the planks. They were followed, a little further on, by thetall man first encountered, and later by a small but constantly movingcompanion, who disappeared again.

At a given signal two of the creatures ran swiftly about the barque,one going in either direction. They had evidently expected to cornertheir intended victim crouching behind the empty shell. When theypresently returned to their leader, a brief consultation was held.

Grenville watched them breathlessly, aware that Elaine's position,alone on the hill, was tremendously jeopardized every moment he nowremained away. Should more of the Dyaks be summoned from theboats—the time would be short for prayers.

Considerably to his relief, the three dark figures resumed the searchalong the edge of the clearing.

They were gone from sight for several minutes, and again returned,apparently persuaded their quarry had not escaped them back to thecamp. One even ventured to approach the barque and peer through itsrotted ribs.

Grenville had quietly moved aside, though the darkness would haveshielded him completely. When the fellow rejoined his companionsagain, the chief issued new commands. A brief expostulation followed.Sidney was certain that one of two things portended. Either the leaderhad ordered his man to go down to the boats and compel a force to landand storm the now half-guarded hill, which the fellow argued was morethan he could do with Dyaks afraid of the darkness as well as theisland's spirit, or the order was—to board and search the wreck.

Either was sufficiently disquieting, as Grenville controlled hisbreathing and watched for the next development to follow. He presentlysaw the tall, bare-shouldered native strike his protesting follower asavage blow across the face, thrusting something that gleamed againstthe shaken creature's ear so soon as he had righted.

The craven was then ready to obey. He accepted something thatGrenville could not see, doubtless another revolver, and came forwardas if to enter the old ship's hull—but not through the hole in herside. Meantime, the fourth of the party had once more appeared fromthe growth. He apparently suggested that crews from the vessels besummoned, doubtless to attack the hill. Also he presumably volunteeredto go and compel their attendance on their chief. His gestures andthose of the leader, as they thus conversed in murmurs, were alltowards the inlet where the boats were anchored or towards the distanthill.

He who had plainly been commanded to enter and search the wreck tookadvantage of the colloquy to linger with the group. It was not untilthe small and active demon of the lot had darted away to land more menthat the chief once more turned his attention to the coward.

Whining his impotent excuses and expostulations, the fellowaffrightedly climbed upon the deck and was ordered to explore thecabin. That he might be killed by the desperate white man possiblyhiding in the vessel's hold, the chief was well aware. The sacrificeof a man more or less was unimportant—provided the quarry was therebydiscovered in a hole where he could not escape.

This fact was fully appreciated by two other persons concerned. One ofthese persons was Grenville, the second the terrified native. Thisshivering wretch, who had known for years of the terrible guardiansitting in iron chains within, blundered noisily about in the upperquarters, so afraid he could have offered no defense to a child'sattack.

Grenville was undecided as to what he were wiser to do. To sink hiscleaver through the Dyak's skull would presently be comparativelysimple. And, should absolutely silent death overtake this miserableslave of the man outside, the moral effect might be of value. It mightbe supposed by his companions he had died of fright alone. Yet Sidneyargued that any fate whatsoever silencing the fellow now might beconstrued as proof of his own presence in the wreck.

Instantly deciding that, once they concluded he was not here, the Dyakswould leave and permit his escape, Grenville silently crept to the opendoor beside the dead man held in chains, slipped behind the rotted oldpartition, and, without a sound, replaced the door almost as he hadoriginally found it.

The chief had meantime approached the barque, to order his man to thehold. To the musty cabin where "Buli" sat, the fellow was forced tostumble. Some report he quavered in accents of terror was not receivedwith favor, and a new command was issued.

Grenville made ready to drop the man, should he dare push open thedoor. He was certain the craven had been ordered to this fatalexploration. But, instead, the whining demon lighted a match, toreveal all the contents of the place.

By the yellow light both this fellow and the leader, peering throughthe side, met the vacant stare of "Buli's" eyes—and both werefrightened to utterance. The chief's brief note was a rigmarole ofcharm, to avert the evil eye. His slave's shrill performance was ascream, as the fellow reeled back, stumbling blindly away and fallingas he went.

The pistol he carried was discharged. The fellow was wounded in thehip. His groans, as he dragged himself out on the deck, were drownedby the curses of the leader.

This dominant brute, having noticed the door where Sidney stoodconcealed, now ordered the second of his men to explore where the firsthad failed. As Grenville once more looked out through a ragged hole toobserve the proceedings, this second fellow began a somewhat stouterobjection than his predecessor had done, but was even more promptlycowed or persuaded to submission.

Meanwhile, the cries of a horde of Dyaks from the boats arose from thejungle below. They had evidently landed with considerable willingnessof spirit, as Grenville was thoroughly aware. He thought of Elainewith a sudden sinking of the vitals. No sooner had the second of thenatives started to mount to the deck, where number one still laygroaning, than a wild idea shot into Sidney's mind. At any cost, hemust make one dash for the hill.

He quietly slipped to the cabin again, where "Buli" had long beencaptain and crew of the barque. The one brief glance he bestowed,through the hole, on the leader of the murderous demons, now hasteningto the place, showed that ingenious savage standing perhaps a rod awayand calling to the on-coming crews.

The fellow on deck was making sufficient noise to mask a fairdisturbance in the cabin. Taking instant advantage of this fact,Grenville groped downward with his hands—and encountered "Buli"promptly.

"I need your services, brother," he murmured, grimly, and, finding thechain that shackled the sitting skeleton, he placed one foot upon itsupper end and tore the staple entirely out of the rotten wood itpierced.

Bodily lifting the mummified thing in his arms, he hastened forward, tothe hole that he alone had dared to utilize, broken through thedecaying hulk, where he passed first his burden and then himselfbetween the ancient ribs.

A cry had been sounded from within the barque. The chief of the Dyakssuddenly turned and rushed, knife in hand, upon the man he beheldescaping from the hold.

Grenville waited for him, deliberately. Just as the fellow lungedactively forward, Sidney thrust the hideous effigy of a human beinginto the arms and against the face of his wildly stabbing assailant andnimbly leaped towards the trail.

A sound of horror broke from the Dyak's lips as he rolled on the earthwith the skeleton rattling down upon him. But a brief time only was heprostrate there with his terror. Uttering screams as shrill as awoman's and darting swiftly to meet his crew of men, who suddenlyswarmed from the thicket, he headed a wild, fanatic pursuit whereGrenville was speeding for the terrace.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE GIRL BEHIND THE GUN

Alone on the hill, and already strung to the highest tension of dreadby Grenville's long absence, after what he had said of a prompt return,Elaine had been struck with alarm to the core of her being, as thevarious sounds came clearly up from the jungle about the disintegratedwreck.

It was fears for Sidney, not for herself, that had finally possessedher fluttering heart as the muffled shot and subsequent cries floateduncertainly from down there in the darkness. She knew that Grenvillehad no gun, and was, therefore, certain it was he who must havesuffered a wound.

With a blazing torch she had run to the edge of the terrace, to lightSidney home, if, by any bare chance, he had escaped. She was there,transfixed by apprehension, when at length, with cries like a pack ofwolves, the Dyaks came racing towards the clearing.

Meantime Grenville had gained a considerable lead of the devils on hisheels, and, on passing the spring, had caught a glimpse of Elaine withher brand of fire. He paused for a second to shout essentialdirections, lest she might have forgotten in her plight.

"Don't fire, Elaine, till you see them on the trail!"

With that he darted abruptly to the left, for the animal trail thatwould lead him to his ladder. He had no more than gained it when, witha chorus of demoniac yells and screams of triumph, the stragglingpursuers broke madly into the clearing and darted across it for thetrail.

Even then, afraid that Elaine might fail to perform her allotted task,Grenville sped up his ladder like a creature of the wild, and came tothe end of his platform.

The Dyaks were immediately storming the barrier, the breach of whichwas promptly discovered, and Sidney's alarm was jerkily resounding.

Like a spirit of maternity, nerved to any ordeal by the sense ofprotecting one she loved, Elaine crouched low beside the cannon, herdilated eyes intent upon the trail. She had clung to a hope thatGrenville might yet appear in time to take charge of the gun. Butsuddenly now, to her terror, four or more figures darkly appeared onthe ledge above the gate, coming swiftly towards her position.

She thrust the torch desperately down upon the fuse, saw the powderspew out a shower of sparks, and rolled and tumbled hotly from theplace.

She was suddenly agonized by the thought that the thing would fail, butGrenville had barely reached the solid rock when the cannon abruptlythundered.

A wide-spreading cataract of fire was projected in a red-and-yellowcone across the space between the brink and the wall behind the trail,as the powder poured its punishment into the ranks of the creaturesleaping upward to destruction. The detonation, sharp, crisp,appallingly loud in the stillness of the island, fairly stunned Elaine,now kneeling helplessly among the rocks.

Shrieks of dismay and sudden agony immediately succeeded the explosion,while its echoes still rattled wildly back from the distant hills ofrock. In the utter darkness, by contrast following the one briefglare, there was nothing to be seen along the path. But wounded menwere staggering downward, in blind retreat, already abandoned by theirunscathed companions, in flight below the gate.

Grenville had run to his store of bombs, instead of coming straight tothe gun. He meant to be prepared against a second attack. As hisactive figure now appeared where he hastened brinkward, watching bothtrail and clearing, Elaine beheld him at last. She arose and stumbledtowards him, her feet still heavy with her dread, her heart wildlyleaping in joy.

"Were you shot?" she cried. "Are you hurt?"

"No, right as a fiddler!" he assured her, quickly, glancing down at theshadowy path. "I only wish I could bait them again and lead theremainder to the gun!"

He charged the piece at once, having brought for the purpose a bamboocanister of powder, open and heaping at the end. This he thrustcomplete down the muzzle of the cannon, to be rammed home with dozensof his slugs.

Cries still arose from the jungle, more faintly, now, as the Dyaksretreated down the island. Excitement still rang in the air. NeitherGrenville nor Elaine felt certain the attack would not be renewed.There was something dark that Sidney could see, crawling painfully downthe incline of the trail, assisting something more inert. He purposelyshielded Elaine from the sight, lest she understand too well. He muchpreferred that the Dyaks recover their possible slain from about theplace.

Elaine was still too tensely wrought for reaction. She could hardlyunderstand how the situation had been changed so abruptly from attackinto utter rout. Her ears were still ringing from the cannon'sdeafening roar. She had taken no time to comprehend the results ofwhat she had accomplished.

"How shall we know if they do come back?" she questioned, excitedly."They probably broke the alarm."

"I'll repair it soon. Did it ring? But, of course, you couldn't havetaken time to hear. Did you understand me when I shouted?"

"I heard it, horribly shaken," said Elaine. "I heard so many awfulnoises. I heard you call, of course. But, perhaps, I didn't wait longenough, after all. I don't seem to remember. I waited as long as Icould. I hope I only frightened them away!" She sat down, overtakenat last by weakness in her limbs.

The torch she had used had fallen from her hand. It barely smolderedon the rocks. Grenville extinguished it completely, then continued toprime the cannon as before, with powder sprinkled on the vent, and afuse laid for several feet along the ledge. He was glad to note thelittle piece had been securely held in place upon its log by itswrappings and the weight of heavy stones.

"I'll go down and examine the gate," he said, aware that, though theDyaks had undoubtedly suffered severely, a still attack might yet beattempted in the dark. Therefore, leaving Elaine to recover as bestshe might, he was soon moving cautiously along the narrow ledge.

The night had precipitated war. That he and Elaine would be calledupon to endure war's customary hazards, hardships, and horrors he wasgrimly ready to concede. She had made an amazingly fine beginning. Itwas certainly not the time for him to weaken her now by misplacedtenderness, vastly as he wished to spare her shock and trial.

The crawling objects he had seen from above had vanished beyond thesolid wall he had built to shut out the tiger. All the way down tothis barrier he made his way, Elaine meanwhile watching from the cliff.There were dark, irregular blotches here and there along the rocks, andon these he scraped a hiding film of dust. How much of the contents ofthe gun had been expended uselessly against the wall could not bedetermined in the dark. He felt assured a heavy toll had beencollected on the trail, if not in killed, at least in wounded and,doubtless, disabled men.

The cord arranged to sound his alarm had been broken in the charge. Hefound the ends, repaired the damage, crept further along to scan thesilent and deserted clearing, then promptly returned to secure abasket, and boldly went down to gather extra fruit.

"I wish I knew where to get some meat," he told Elaine, as he came withhis plunder to the terrace. "I don't know when I shall have anotherhour so absolutely safe."

But beyond removing his ladder and bridge, he performed no more laborthat night. It was not yet late. Elaine was too excited to retire.She sat with him, nervously listening to all the far sounds of thejungle, as he kindled their fire to a blaze.

"I wonder how long we can keep it up—go on as we are going now," shereflected aloud at last. "Mustn't they get us in the end?"

"Well—not till we've made it a fair exchange, at least."

"There must be a dozen of them about us, six or more to our one."

"There were, perhaps, an hour ago, but hardly so many now. One shothimself, down in the jungle, gunning for me, while the cannon—— Butyour intuition was accurate—a second boatload did arrive to join thefirst." He added a brief recital of what he had seen and what hadtaken place at the rotted barque, sparing the details which, he felt,would more alarm than assure her, respecting "Buli" and the dramaplayed at the clearing.

"Two boatloads!" she repeated. "What reason could they possibly havefor coming at last to this island? They couldn't have known we werehere—at least not the first who came."

"No," said Grenville, slowly, reflecting that the time for hisrevelation was, perhaps, a trifle overdue, "they came, I believe, tosecure the treasure in the cave."

Elaine glanced up at him quickly.

"The treasure you have joked about before?"

"It was not altogether a joke. The treasure is there—or, at least, itwas, before I removed it to the passage."

"Not something actually valuable? What sort of things do you mean?"

"Gold and precious stones—a lot of heavy plunder—enough of the jewelsalone to fill a hat."

Elaine slightly gasped. "And they came for that? And you have takenit out—have hidden it, rather—and you think, perhaps, they havemissed it?"

"No, I hardly believe they have been to the cave as yet. It isn'ttheirs, the beggars! Not that it's of any account to us, but I don'tfeel sure if I gave it up they'd depart and leave us in peace. At anyrate, I don't propose they shall have it."

Elaine was silent for a moment, and filled with wonder.

"How did you manage to find it?"

"Entirely by accident. I pulled down a stone that concealed a secretchamber, where someone had walled it in. It has doubtless been therefor many generations—as these fellows have probably known."

"And suppose they find the chamber looted—may they not be all the moresavage and eager to tear us to pieces?"

"Well—I should say their ambition in that respect has already aboutreached its limit."

Elaine could still feel her heart pounding heavily in her bosom. Shereturned to her original query.

"If we go on like this for a week, what then? Is there anything in theworld to prevent them from waiting and waiting and waiting, till——"She did not finish her sentence, but the slightest shudder shook herframe.

"They were goaded to action to-night," said Grenville, hopefully."They may feel sufficiently aggrieved to return for more. If not—theymust be invited."

"But surely you'll not attempt such a venture as this again?"

Grenville rubbed at his jaw. "I wish it might be duplicated! No suchluck is likely. But I feel very certain we'd both rather cash infighting than to starve like rats in a trap."

"Yes," Elaine faltered, in her quiet way of courage, "but—if it has tocome—let's try to—receive it here together."

CHAPTER XXXIV

DYAK DARTS AND METHODS

Long-distance fighting began an hour after sunrise in the morning. Itwas rather a long-distance attack, since Grenville, armed only with thecannon, was powerless to retaliate, except at great expense ofammunition, and with questionable results.

One of the Dyaks had stationed himself on the central hill of theisland with some sort of ancient rifle. He took a deliberate shot atSidney the moment that unsuspecting thorn in their sides chanced tomake an appearance on the western section of the terrace. The bulletwent wide, having struck among the rocks some fifteen feet away,arousing Grenville's contempt.

Not even Elaine was greatly frightened by this overture from the enemy,whose marksman could have but a limited view of that unused section ofthe headland.

But the first small dart that sped lightly up from the jungle, to dropalmost at Grenville's feet, was another affair altogether. He knew thething was not only sharp, but literally soaked with poison. It hadonly to prick through the skin of one's hand, or even, perhaps, throughthe thinness of their garments, to perform its deadly function. Themerest chance shot was thus extremely likely to achieve what therifleman could not.

These hideous little messengers of agony and death were rained allmorning on the terrace. They fell near the furnace for keeping fire;they dropped by the door of the shelter. A few even sped as far as thepowder magazine, where Grenville found them on the rock and gravel roof.

Ample protection was afforded by remaining under cover, but this wasnot altogether wise or safe, except, perhaps, for Elaine. Grenvillefelt he must constantly watch the clearing. In the light of day hisalarm could be discovered and removed, to permit an attack too suddento be opposed.

He, therefore, constructed a bamboo shield, with which to protect hishead and a part of his body, as he moved about among the rocks, orconcealed himself near the cannon.

Not more than twice in all the morning did he see so much as one of thetubes—the long, slender blowguns of the hidden foe—while this silentbombardment continued. It was useless to think of slewing about hislittle brass piece for a shot at mere motionless jungle. It wasequally impossible, he confessed, to excite the Dyaks to another chargeuntil they should finally make up their minds a sudden assault wouldsucceed.

He was rather surprised they had made no attempt to rush him atearliest dawn. The ledge was, however, very narrow. It afforded theone and only approach, and the dire disaster of the night before hadrendered far more cowardly the set of treacherous and utterly cravenmurderers these boatmen undoubtedly were.

All afternoon the darts continued falling, intermittently—andGrenville made no response. His silence, indeed, was a mystery whichthe Dyaks not only failed to understand, but, likewise, a littledreaded. That he had no rifle they were thoroughly convinced. Butthat roar of his cannon they had understood, and to hear it again theyhad no appetite. Moreover, its deadly hail and detonation had come sounexpectedly, from the erstwhile silent terrace, that they knew notwhat to expect concerning the future.

Not without hopes of actually slaying some of the unknown forces on thecrest of the hill, they shot an exceptional number of their darts fromthe nearby thicket as the sun at last declined. Grenville, having atlength established what he thought to be a line of the little missiles'flight, hastily made and bound up a bomb of no more than two pounds'weight.

This, with a fuse too short for ordinary safety, he finally carried tothe westward brink with one of his glowing coals of fire.

The patient rifleman, waiting on his hill, immediately blazed away, asbefore—and missed the entire bulk of rock. Grenville paid not eventhe tribute of a glance at the opposite summit, as he thrust his fusedown upon his coal.

The hiss of the powder gave him a start, so swiftly did it traveltowards the bomb. With all his might he threw the thing outward at theshadowed spot whence he thought the darts were flying.

The quick, sharp bark and the patch of flame behind the design of apalm leaf, came like a clap of thunder, just before the second when thebomb would have struck on the earth.

A yell of dismay, or anguish, or both, and a scattering shower ofshredded greenery supplied the only report of results that Grenvillewas destined to receive. The flight of darts was ended. A few hurriedmovements in the thicket, and a groan that Sidney felt was smothered,were the only signs vouchsafed him that the powder had not been cheaplywasted.

"It's a poor way to fight the hidden devils," he told Elaine, as hecame once more to the shelter, "but it may possibly serve to keep themfurther away, and force them to different tactics."

It certainly had this latter effect, but not immediately.

There was no attack that night, and no disturbance in the jungle,though Sidney descended to the thicket and returned, not only with morefresh fruit he had located during the day, but also with a small wildhog he had captured in one of the older traps which the Dyaks hadfailed to discover.

The morning developed nothing aggressive, save the presence of themarksman on hill number two with the rifle that Grenville said wouldonly be deadly around a corner. Some plan of patient waiting appearedto have been matured in the Dyaks' mind, since one of their boatsissued forth at last from its place, to circle about the headland likea vulture atilt for prey, while down in the cover of the greenery othernatives undoubtedly lurked.

They affrighted a flock of parrots here and there, from time to time,or set the timid monkeys to chattering and leaping through the upperfoliage, apprising Grenville thus that the thickets were haunted below.No darts sped upward from the jungle edge, however, which, Sidneyargued, might signify that the men with the deadly blow-guns possiblyhoped to excite over-confidence in the keepers of the terrace, whomight finally expose themselves to fewer, but more accurate, shots.

In his forced inactivity, Grenville once more waxed impatient. He feltthe heat of the blazing sun, which was daily growing more intense. Hechafed at the thought of doing nothing while their water supply wassteadily diminishing, and the Dyaks apparently planned to subdue him bythirst or famine. He dared not risk an exposure of the door to thesecret passage by going for water to the cave below, especially as allhis jugs were porous and permitted the water's escape by percolation,whereas the supply in the basins below might be better preserved whereit was.

A hundred useless plans for taking the war to the enemy's camp werepresented to his mind, always to be promptly abandoned. He could onlyutilize his artillery for defense, and could not even hasten an attack.He could devise no means of ascertaining how many of the natives hadeither been killed or disabled. That fully ten survived, however, hefelt was probable. One or two at the most was all the little cannonwould be likely to rake in a charge.

Early in the afternoon there was ample evidence of exceptional activitydown in the heavy jungle growth, though none of the Dyaks was seen.The movements of birds and animals, as well as the swaying of branchesor trees in various thickets under the cliff, sufficiently advertisedthe facts.

Grenville was puzzled to understand what might be occurring, till, atlength, he discovered that some of the fruit-bearing trees, on which hehad counted for supplies, had been quietly denuded of their burdens, oreven altogether destroyed. One large banana palm with fruit ofexceptional quality, he even beheld as it toppled to the earth, wheresome fiendish head-hunter hacked through its fibrous trunk.

Something sank in his breast as he witnessed this atrocious vandalism,and realized his helplessness to avert the oncoming famine of himselfand the girl in his charge. That the spring would be guarded, nightand day, was, of course, a foregone conclusion. And not even a planfor goading the Dyaks to another attack came in working order to hisbrain.

That was a thoroughly disheartening day, sultry, and fraught withmenace from all directions, as the Dyak craft continued to hover aboutupon the sea, and the pillaging continued in the thickets. All thework was, moreover, silent, grim, and ominous, with once in a while adart spinning swiftly up from the tangle below, or, from time to time,an echoing shot coming from the opposite height with a bullet singingcrazily by, or ripping along the rocks.

Sidney made no attempt to descend that night, aware of the folly of anexploration into the enemy's lines, and the utter impossibility ofdiscovering fruit in a nearer portion of the jungle. His entire wildhog had been roasted. For, perhaps, two days the meat might keep, inthe coolness of the passage to the cave.

Once more the night was uneventful, and silent. Once more came theday, and a blazing hot sun poured unveiled caloric on the summit of theterrace, where sultriness drank up the water that oozed through thesubstance of the jugs.

"I've got to do something," Sidney declared. "We can't go on likethis." Elaine was already denying herself the food and water sherequired. "I shall try to invent some means of enticing the creaturesto the cave below—and, perhaps, explode a mine. If the watchers onthat hovering ship saw me disappear in the hole, it is rather more thanlikely they would follow, thinking they had me bottled."

Elaine always manifested interest, no matter what his scheme.

"But how could that possibly be managed, now that you haven't yourraft?"

"I think by a ladder and platform, the ladder anchored as we had it theday I came up with your assistance, and the platform arranged of bamboopoles, which I can carry down through the passage. It will take mesome time to get it ready—but something has got to be done."

Elaine's eyes brightened with hope.

"Please say there is something I can do to help," she begged. "Youwork so hard and constantly."

"There will be rather warm employment for us both," he assured her, inhis former way of cheer, "particularly towards the end."

He brought his neglected ladder to the shelter, where Elaine waspresently as busy as himself, rewinding the rungs in the creepers, andtesting it all for strength. Just what his final plan would be she didnot understand, but her confidence in his ability and resourcefulnesswas almost wholly without bounds.

The usual vigilance was not for a moment neglected, but nothingoccurred in the world below, save a repetition of the former day'sactivity on the part of the unseen natives. It was not until well inthe afternoon that the Dyaks' plan developed.

A breeze had sprung up from the north, bringing gushes of heat andjungle fragrance across the summit of the hill. Then, at length, as ifthis steadying wind was the final agency for which they had waited, theDyaks set up a queer, wild chant from various places in the thicket.

A few minutes later a cloud of smoke arose from one of their centers.This was followed by several more. A huge, thick smudge was soonrising upward from the earth, and rolling on the breeze to envelop allthe headland.

The Dyaks had gathered enormous quantities of resinous wood, and haddeliberately fired the jungle!

CHAPTER XXXV

A BATTLE IN THE SMOKE

No doubts could be for long entertained as to what the smudge wasexpected to accomplish. Its dense and suffocating fumes not onlyrendered a further watch upon the clearing or the trail practicallyuseless, but it seemed to Grenville highly improbable that he or Elainecould for long survive the pungent reek they were soon obliged tobreathe.

There were two slight elements only in their favor. One was thepassageway, through the rock, where clean fresh air was constantlyflowing upward; the other was the very breeze itself that swept thesmoke upon them. It frequently split the cloud of black and gray upontwo juttings of the headland, or even beat it down and mingled its ownoverheated but acceptable ozone with the otherwise stifling fume.

Anger and horror together had lodged in Grenville's being. That theDyaks would soon attempt a sneak upon them, under cover of the cloud,he felt was as certain as that hideous death must be their portion,were this business sufficiently prolonged. Even retirement to thecavern could avail them nothing but a short delay of the fate they mustfinally face when their food and water should be presently exhausted.

Under cover of the drifting smudge, he sent Elaine to the passage. Aslong as a breath remained in his lungs he resolved he would not deserthis post, where he waited for attack by the trail. To permit thefiends to swarm upon the terrace, destroy or capture his powder and thegun, and prison himself and Elaine in the narrow gallery, was a thoughtthat aroused him through and through.

All further contemplation of his scheme for alluring the Dyaks to thecavern was necessarily abandoned. The most he could do was to watch asbefore, and, perhaps, convey his bombs and stores to the passage, astime and his highly essential vigilance permitted.

Back and forth through the smoke he moved upon the hill, seeking thebetter air that came occasionally through the billows, and listeningintently for the faintest sound from the always ready alarm. When anhour had gone and no attack had developed, his heart underwent a newdespair. He began to doubt that the Fates would supply him anopportunity for further retaliation on the fiends below, who couldfinally overcome him with the fumes.

The drift of smoke was intermittently broken, near the trail, whereapparently a current of wind that assumed a rotation as it rose througha half-round niche of considerable dimensions in the wall, sweptvertically upward to lift the billowing cloud. Thus for at least aportion of the time Grenville could glimpse the ledge behind the trailwhere besiegers must finally pass.

So dense became the reek, however, that he feared his post must soonbecome insupportable. There was neither time nor air in which toarrange a longer fuse, which, as a matter of fact, would be too longfor accurate work with the gun.

He knew at last the hour was nearing sunset, and silence still seemedto roll with the smoke across the enveloped terrace. His eyes wereburningly filled with water; his head had begun to ache. He wentweakly over towards the gallery, intent upon breathing a little fresherair before resuming his duties.

Suddenly, above the ringing in his ears, came a sound from his gatealarm. Its deep hollow tone was strangely resonant in all that blanketof smoke. He darted back, where lay his bombs and the short fuse laidto the cannon.

The smudge had, unfortunately, fallen like a pall, concealing all thetrail. It lifted slightly, however, as a fog may lift over waters,revealing one half-seen form upon the ledge.

Then, in the second that Grenville laid his fire to the powder, hissecond alarm, from the frame of bamboo buckets, hung behind him on thewall, rattled out its xylophonic warning. The head-hunting demons,front and rear, were practically upon him!

He fired the gun. Its orange flame shot out through the smoke inragged spears, mingling the fume of imperfect powder with all that reekfrom the jungle.

A gap was apparently torn in the rolling cloud, to be filled with adenser substance. Nothing could possibly be discerned where the chargemust have splattered on the wall. There were cries in the air, butwhether from pain, or the Dyaks' exultation, Grenville could never havetold.

Aware that the demons were capable of sacrificing some of their numberto the gun, to beget its discharge, and thus clear the way forconcerted attack by greater numbers, Grenville promptly lighted thefuse of a bomb and hurled it from him down the trail.

It burst in the smoke, its red blot of fire a lurid illumination in theblack and gray billows from the smudge. Again a cry succeeded, thisone unquestionably voicing some wretch's mortal agony in theall-concealing fume.

Without for a moment pausing, Grenville plunged swiftly through thedrifting envelope, to gain the brink at the rear. He caught up a rockas he stumbled half blindly onward, and blew on the fire of his brand.

A thicker shroud of the reek revolved about him, halting him there togasp for breath, which he stooped in the hope of finding. He droppedthe stone as a useless burden. Once more he staggered onward—andblundered against a Dyak, more blinded than himself!

The creature had scaled the wall despite the bamboo framework and itscups, or wooden bells! He and Sidney were instantly locked in a fierceand deadly embrace!

A battle as silent as it was swift and ferocious was curtained there inthe smoke.

That the edge was near was a knowledge equally shared, as each manwrestled in desperate violence to overcome his antagonist and hurl himdown to the sea.

More by instinct than design, Grenville had paused to grip hisfirebrand hotly between his teeth. He had seen that the head-hunterheld a knife, which was instantly turned, as the boatman writhed inSidney's arms, in an effort to sink it to the hilt.

Grenville, however, clutched the wiry wrist with all his might, andtried to fetch it upward for a quickly planned maneuver. It slippedfrom his grip, and together he and the native froze more savage thanbefore. The Dyak once more attempted a stabbing pass, and Sidney againcaught the sinewy hand, in a clutch that he knew must fail.

The wrist left his impotent fingers like a snake. The whole armwrithed backward for the stroke. Sidney abruptly leaned forward,turning his head, and jabbed the red-hot firebrand against the Dyak'seye.

With a shriek of pain the fellow lurched galvanically, to stab withdemoniacal might. But the blow went wide, in his agony, and whenGrenville had caught the wrist in a grip that a serpent could scarcelyhave broken, he instantly laid hold of it with his second hand, with amotion incredibly swift. Then turning his back with the skinny brownarm across his shoulder, and abruptly stooping forward, Sidney hoistedthe scoundrel free from the rocks, on his shoulders, and, movingquickly towards the cliff, ended the fight then and there.

He broke the arm thus used as a leverage against the Dyak's weight, andliterally slammed the shuddering creature down on the rocks, at thebrink of the wall, where he poised but a moment over death.

If he tried to writhe backward to the solid ledge, the effort wasbelated. With a piercing scream he toppled over, flinging out hisbroken arm in a gesture grotesque and disordered. Then he suddenlygrayed, in the limbo of smoke, and shot swiftly downward to his doom.

Grenville still bit upon the branch that glowed with fire. He searchedabout pantingly, found his end of fuse, and saw the powder sputter withignition. He had barely stepped back when, from over at the trail,came a sudden and tremendous detonation.

That the Dyaks were there on the terrace, after all, destroying hisbombs, was the one thought that flashed through the smoke in his brain,as his own sharp explosion shook the air and hollowed huge masses fromthe cliff.

He stumbled and groped laboriously across the uneven heaps of stone toreach the secret passage, where Elaine must be crouching in fear. Inhis ears rang her words "If it has to come, let's receive it heretogether."

Already he feared her one grim wish had been brutally denied her inthis hideous pall of smoke. He saw a figure, dimly, through the reek,and crouched to take revenge.

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE LAST CUP OF WATER

The figure was Elaine's. Grenville was almost upon her, prepared forsome swift and terrible deed of retaliation, when a swirl in the shroudthat enveloped them both revealed her standing near the edge.

She still held a glowing fire-stick in her hand, as she peered throughthe billowing cloud of smoke where she had flung an ignited bomb. Shehad fled from her shelter, in desperate dread, lest a murderous fateovertake her companion, battling alone with the fiends. She had foundhis post deserted, and, having discerned two figures on the trail, hadinstantly obeyed an impulse to protect the hill with the only meansprovided.

She uttered a cry as she saw Grenville crouching behind her, raisingher brand like a weapon, then sinking in relief.

"You!" he said. "Elaine! I might have known!"

"I am sure they are coming up behind us there!" she answered. "I knowI heard the bamboo buckets jangling! Have you been across to see?"

"I fired the bomb," he answered. "Didn't you know?"

She shook her head. Her ears, that had been so finely attuned to catchthe warning from the rearward cliff, had received or recorded noimpression whatsoever of the huger disturbance, while her own bomb'scolossal thunder and shock engrossed her eager attention.

"Was anyone there?" she asked, half choking with the reek. "I supposeyou couldn't see."

"I saw no one when lighting the fuse," he answered. "What washappening here?"

She related what she had seen and what she had done.

"I hope I killed them!" she added, weak and dizzy from the smoke. "Butthey probably ran away!"

It was the first time she had entertained such a feeling.

He urged her again to the shelter, where he coaxed her to drink, andbathe her face, for the freshening and soothing influence of which shewas sadly in need. Returning, then, to the shelter for some of theirfruit, he groped his way down along the trail—and found that one orthe other of the bombs had so shattered the ledge, as to render ituseless for passing till the gap could in some way be bridged.

They were safe from invasion in the night—but they were, likewise,marooned on the hill! It was hardly likely the Dyaks would attempt toconstruct a platform across the yawning cavity, under the shadow of thegun, while, as for themselves, descent at present was entirely out ofthe question.

Meantime the smoke was unabated, if it was not, indeed, more dense andchoking than before. All the man's characteristic doggedness ofpurpose was required in preparations for the night. The sun was down;the brief and usually comforting twilight seemed entirely absent, asdarkness was hastened by the fumes.

Back and forth from the now deserted shelter to the passage Sidneygroped time after time, fetching her couch and robe for Elaine, andtheir meager supplies for dinner. The gallery then became her boudoir,sanctified to her uses. Outside on the ledge, where at least a breathof air trailed upward from the cave beneath, to escape at the door anda little dilute the stifling smoke, he finally made his sentinel postto pass the long session of darkness.

He was roused repeatedly in the night by the sheer discomfort of hisresting-place, and the smoke that smarted his nostrils. All the longhours through the dull red flames glowed fitfully, down through thejungle. He was tempted, times without number, to throw out hisplatform to the tree and descend with a bomb, to hurl at some group ofthe demons, there in the nether gloom of the Hades they created. Hecurbed his impatience rigidly, however, and crowded the impulse back.That one or two natives at the most maintained the fires was asupposition not to be ignored. The possible results of such anenterprise were incommensurate with the risk that must be incurred.

Despite his uneasiness of mind and body he slept for a time betweenmidnight and dawn as the mere result of overstrain and the wearinessaccumulated for several days.

For a brief time after sunrise the northerly breeze abated, permittingthe smoke to ascend more nearly straight. The headland was therebyfreed and sweetened, only, however, to be re-enveloped later, and,veiled from the other features of the island.

Grenville took advantage of the respite to make an examination of thecliff at the rear of the camp. It had been so shattered, where thebomb shook down the disintegrated tufa, that its ascent would neveragain be attempted. The framework of bamboo cups was gone. There wasnothing below to indicate whether or not a Dyak boat might have beenswamped by falling rock.

The cavity torn in the regular trail was rather more exaggerated thandiminished by the morning's revelations. Grenville was certain theenemy would hardly hazard bridging the gap while they thought a singleounce of punishment remained upon the terrace. He was not altogethercertain he should not construct a bridge himself, since only when theycharged upon his position could he hope to decimate the blood-desiringsavages, who must still remain in menacing numbers on the island.

The little brass cannon was once more charged, though its use washardly likely. The wind and the smoke resumed their steady flow acrossand about the hill before Elaine appeared.

She was pale and plainly weary, when at length she emerged from thepassage. Her sleep had been broken, and haunted by dreams of countlessnew atrocities committed by the demons below. Her courage wasphenomenal. She made no complaint, but attempted a smile and a cheeryoutlook on the day.

Grenville was wrung, more than comforted, at the wistful effort she wasmaking to sustain her slender hope and encourage his own flaggingspirit. When he found that hardly a pint of water remained in the jugshe had thought would supply them at least for a couple of days, hisdespair for Elaine became intensely acute, and his heart began dully toache. Two of the clay receptacles had developed tiny cracks, perhapsfrom the jarring of explosions, while a third had toppled over andspilled its precious contents after having been placed in the passage.Percolation and usage had drained the others inevitably—and the daywas beginning with heat and stifling reek.

Much of the fruit that Sidney had gathered was now unfit for use, andwas, therefore, thrown away. By way of conserving the water supply,they made a breakfast of paw-paws and bananas only, though the meatremaining from the previous day was still acceptable.

Grenville descended to the cavern as soon as this scant and oversweetmeal was concluded. He bore two jugs, to be filled from the basins inthe rock. When the light from the blazing torch he held above his headdimly outlined but one of the pools he had seen on a former occasion,he realized that some insignificant fissure must have resulted from hisblast, and permitted the other pools to trickle to the sea.

He filled his jugs with the utmost care, scooping up the water at thedeepest hole to leave all unclean sediment undisturbed. That the poolmust soon succumb to evaporation was obvious. Vaguely he wonderedwhich might last the longer, this underground well, or the breath inhis body and Elaine's.

Even the sight and touch of the precious water excited his mouth tothirst. With the jugs both full and set carefully aside, he sprawledout eagerly, flat on the rocks, for a deep and satisfying draught.

Hardly had the water reached his palate, however, when he lifted hishead with a sound like a stifled groan. The pool was connected withthe tides—the liquid there was brine!

He rose to his knees, with his fist before his eyes, his whole bodytense and rigid with his soul's recoil from the visions abruptlyshadowed in his mind. The cordon about the helpless girl was sohideously complete! It seemed like the bitterness of her doom that hetasted on his tongue.

It appeared so useless now to struggle. How he should take this latestnews to the uncomplaining comrade of his destiny was more than he coulddetermine. Wild thoughts of offering all the treasure he had found, asransom for Elaine at least, possessed his mind, as he conjured up thefinal, triumphant approach of the Dyaks, whom the two famished keepersof the terrace would at length be no longer able successfully to resist.

He likewise thought of offering himself, could Elaine be finallyspared. But through it all he was sickeningly conscious that neithercourse could avail with these treacherous fiends. A human head wasmore to them than treasures of earth or heaven. Moreover, themurderous savages had already paid a heavy toll, and would smart intheir blood for revenge.

There could be no bargain made with such an enemy, all but victoriousalready, and certain of final success. They should never find thattreasure, however, Grenville swore, if he had to sink it in the sea!And as for a final triumph—there were many ways, in a last extremity,whereby at least the unspeakable horrors, certain to follow theircapture alive, could be escaped by both himself and Elaine.

Wild rage possessed him, kneeling there, as he thought of the mercilesshead-hunters smoking them out on the hill, and waiting as loathsomelyas vultures for the slowly approaching end. Mad plans for sinkingtheir anchored boats, for loading himself with torch and bombs, tocharge like a Nemesis through their ranks, or for luring them up tosome deadly mine, ranged erratically through his brain.

He thought of attempting a condensation of sea water to provide Elainewith drink. He was swiftly possessed by a plan, even more absurd, ofmaking a float with his bamboo stems, and sailing away with Elaine onboard, under cover of the darkness.

He arose at last, dizzy, with the vortex of impractical suggestionsrevolving in his mind. He emptied his jugs and strode to the mouth ofthe cavern, looking out on smoke and sea. The tide was low. Wholecolonies of mussels clung there below him on the rocks. They werefood! The thought came home to him swiftly—only to be immediatelysucceeded by the realization they were salt, and would make for greaterthirst. He thought of the wail that had formerly haunted the island—afriendly, invaluable phenomenon that had not been repeated for days.He thought of the raft he had rowed with such ease when he came here toblow out the ledge. Was it floating still in the estuary's mouth, orhad some of the Dyaks destroyed it?

The estuary!—could he only reach its tepid pool, creep towards itssource, fill one of his jugs, and return to gladden Elaine! His busymind was instantly working on the various steps by which he mightsucceed in lashing together some sort of raft, for a night excursion tothe tiny rill that fed the vine-surrounded inlet where the water wasnot brine.

CHAPTER XXXVII

A BREATHLESS MARGIN

Grenville returned for his jugs and the torch, impatient to beemployed. The clay receptacles were useless on the hill, but hecarried them back to the gallery, to leave them on the floor. Thelower rock-and-wattle barrier he carefully readjusted to its place, andsecured with the bar of wood.

"The water below is rather poor," he informed Elaine, when he once morerejoined her above. "I believe I can reach a supply considerablybetter by building a bamboo platform that will give me access to alarger and fresher pool."

laine was thinking of another, more personal danger.

"Do you think these creatures have visited the cave?"

"If they have, they left no signs."

"You are not afraid they may go there soon—and discover the end ofthis passage?"

Grenville shook his head. "I only wish they would try—every man Jackof them hunting there at once! If it weren't for this smoke, I shouldtry to lure them in!"

Glad of an occupation, no matter how forlorn the hope it afforded, hewent promptly to work fetching all of the largest bamboo stems from hisgenerous supply, together with wood for fuel and many lengths ofcreeper. By the time these various transfers were complete, he hadleft but little of their meager possessions in or about the former camp.

Bombs, fuses, torch-wood, and much of his extra powder he now proceededto store along the wall, and in a niche of the gallery, where theyshould neither obstruct the passage under foot, nor yet be exposed topossible accident from necessary fire. The terrace continued to bewrapped in smoke, as on the previous day. Instructing Elaine to callhim instantly, should any attempt be made by the Dyaks to bridge thegap on the trail, he now began the laborious task of carrying one afteranother of the bamboo stems down the passage to the cave.

The stems were large, some of them fully six inches through at thebutt, and while they were never heavy, yet the twelve or more feet oflength to which he had reduced them made their transfer through thenarrow and angular gallery an awkward and troublesome maneuver, withonly a torch for light.

He had made up his mind that six of these stems, lashed together inpairs, or even laid side by side, and slightly separated, wouldcomplete a float on which he could readily find sufficient buoyancy forhimself and a couple of water jugs, more especially as he thoroughlyintended to stretch himself out flat, full length, upon it while movingabout the shore. He felt, moreover, it must be so light he could notonly launch it from the cave, but even withdraw it inside again, shoulddanger so require.

Fortunately, he reflected, none of the stems was split. Each compriseda set of water-tight compartments that a load of double his avoirdupoiscould hardly sink beneath the surface. If he found that four of thelengths would answer as well as six, he would certainly use no more.

As he stumbled and edged his way downward once again, with the last ofhis load colliding here and there along the wall, he thought, perhaps,it might be possible to test the float in the salty pool that remainedin the basin of the cavern. Could this be done, much time would besaved, and no risk of being discovered at his work need be incurred.

For his greater convenience in assembling materials and tools, heplaced both his torch and final burden for a moment within the passage,when he came once more to the cave. Three of the bamboo stems werethen in the cavern proper, while all of the creeper and the otheressentials remained on the gallery floor. He paused to wipe his brow,for he was sweating. His mouth was dry with a growing thirst thatrefused to be forgotten.

He had barely stepped out to survey the space for the likeliest siteconvenient to his needs, when, abruptly, a human voice sent a murmurousecho through the hollow tomb. A sharp command immediatelyfollowed—all in some barbaric tongue. But before the noise ofsomething dully scraping on the outside ledge could add itsconfirmation to the somewhat belated alarm, Grenville was certain thata Dyak boat had come to the cavern, and its crew were about to land.

Instantly pouncing upon the nearest length of his precious bamboo, hedarted with it to the passage. The second stem struck on the innerwall, not only delaying his movements, but sounding a thud that he feltmust be heard through all the vast bulk of the hill.

Yet he dared not either betray the fact he had been in the cave, orlose that final pole. Once more, as he heard the Dyaks coming, andeven beheld a shadow, preceding its owner to the place, he dartedsilently out at his door to lay hold of the last remaining stem.

He was certain its end must be plainly seen, as the Dyaks now roseabove the ledge. A sound that he made seemed incredibly loud—and hisdoor was out where the boatmen's torch must play a red light upon it!

He stumbled across his materials, now congesting his narrow space. Hethrust out an arm, laid hold of his door, and had barely drawn itacross the opening when the glare of the torch the Dyaks held sent redrays in upon him.

Not another move could he make without betraying his presence near athand. To adjust the barrier solidly in place might readily provefatal. To leave it loose, a palpable sham where all should appear assolid wall, was scarcely less of a risk.

Holding it firmly, lest it slip, and peering breathlessly out throughthe chink which it failed by an inch to cover, Grenville beheld threehalf-naked forms, incredibly magnified and diabolized not only by thetorch they held, but also by the shadows they cast upon the rocks, andthe general aspect of the region, black as Inferno. Three thinner,more furtive fiends of the nether abyss would have been hard, indeed,to imagine. In the tallest Sidney recognized the chief.

As they turned about to scan the wall, and the breach he had made withhis explosion, the whites of their eyes and the gleam of their teethrendered all of their faces strangely hideous, with the yellowish glareprojecting them indistinctly against the ebon of the tomb.

That their keen, malicious eyes must instantly discover the wall'sdecided imperfection, where the gallery door was askew, seemed toGrenville inescapable. They motioned towards him, and down at thefloor, in manifest wonder that the place was no longer filled withwater. Their voices were low. They spoke as if with a certain awe inwhich the place was held.

It seemed to Grenville they would never go about their business. Hismuscles ached with the unaccustomed strain put upon them to support theheavy door. How long he could stand there, making no sound, andpermitting no movement of the barrier, was a question he could notanswer. If only his cleaver had not been dropped around the bend,beside his torch, he would almost have dared spring out on theunsuspecting Dyaks to brain them where they stood!

At thought of his torch, redly glowing, in beyond, he sweated anew,convinced that as soon as the boatmen grew accustomed to the darknessof the cavern, these torch rays must impinge upon their vision, andinstantly divulge the secret of the passage to the top.

One of the Dyaks now approached even closer than before. Savagelydetermined he would slay the man, should he raise a hand, or otherwisegive the slightest intimation that the door was seen at last, Sidneygrew hot in his farthest pulse, and became as tense as a tight-coiledspring as he steadied to leap from the place.

But the man in command now grumbled another of his orders. The fellowso near discovery and death turned slowly about, made one more gesturetowards the shattered ledge, and followed the other where they madetheir way across the uneven floor.

Until they had passed to a second ridge, where their feet disturbed afew loose fragments that rattled down towards the base, Grenville madenot the slightest move to alter his position. Then cautiously, withouta sound, he adjusted the door to its proper place and secured it withthe bar.

He still had a chink through which to peer, but he first moved back tohis blazing torch and smothered its light on the rocks. When he oncemore groped his way to the tiny opening, the Dyaks had come to therifled chamber. He could hear their exclamations of disgust and anger,but only their torch could be seen.

Aware they might still return to his wall and discover the oneremaining retreat where Elaine was even remotely secure, Grenville wasseized with an irresistible impulse to destroy the fiends on theinstant, if such a denouement could be rendered possible.

He turned about to grope his way upward and secure a bomb as swiftly asthe darkness would permit. Over the basket of treasure, some timesince deposited there by the wall, he blundered, and fell to his knees.The thing was in the way. He took it up impatiently and carried itwell up the passage to one of the broadest galleries, where he placedit again on the floor.

With one of the smallest of his bombs, and carrying one of hisfirebrands only for a torch, he once more descended, feeling his wayalong the wall, eager to regain the lower entrance, lest it might bealready discovered. He had been delayed in securing the brand, withoutwhich his bomb was useless. He had told Elaine his measures were onlyof defense.

They were hardly even that. When he came to the door he could see notorch, for the Dyaks had gone, in new exasperation, and their voicesechoed back from the ledge. The impulse to rush out thus belatedly,ignite his fuse, and hurl his engine of destruction upon them, or theirboat, was one he curbed with difficulty, at the dictates of sobersense. For a dozen reasons the maneuver might fail to destroy themurderous trio. And should one escape to advertise the fact he wassomehow concealed in the cavern, no possible cleverness could avail toprotect Elaine or himself.

Should a larger number come to the cave—— But he knew it was hardlylikely, now, that even a few would return. If the Dyaks had, as hefelt convinced, concluded that the open niche meant that the tomb hadbeen pillaged, that the treasure was gone, either taken by himself oranother, they would have no conceivable reason left for courtingdisaster here again. For unless they should dare approach the place bynight, it was only under cover of the rolling smoke they would riskattack from above.

He even thought of hastening back to the terrace now to drop a bombupon them. It was only a recollection of the all-engulfing smoke thathalted this intent. Instead he dislodged the wooden bar, removed thedoor to his secret gallery, and crept out to glide to the breach in theledge for a possible view of the boatmen.

Only the disappearing end of their craft was shown through the fumesthat veiled the tide. It was Grenville's useful catamaran, as heinstantly discerned. A new resentment burned in his blood, but lefthim as helpless as before.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

GRENVILLE'S DESPERATE CHANCE

At noon Elaine reluctantly consumed the last remaining drop of water.Grenville had taken a sip, and pretended to take a swallow. To refuseit longer, Elaine quite clearly comprehended, would be but to see itooze away through the jar, to be drunk by the merciless heat.

"I shall get a new supply," said Sidney, attempting an accent of cheer,"but I'd rather avoid using that of the cavern, for fear it may not bewholesome."

Elaine, in her way of divining the truth, was only partially deceived.She felt that the water below in the cave was wholly unfit forconsumption. She knew that if anything even remotely possible could bedone to refill their vessels, Sidney would have filled them long before.

She made no discouraging comments, however, despite the fact her hopewas succumbing to despair. The smoke continued to roll in sullenclouds across and about the terrace; the sun beat down through itredly, soaking the rock in caloric, that sank to the gallery itself.

The noonday meal had been slight and unrefreshing—a bit of fruit, toowarm and too ripe for relish on the palate, and a few odd scraps of themeat. It was water that both insistently craved, and for which theygrew fevered and distressed.

The smoldering brands in the furnace of rocks could not be permitted todie away in ash. Elaine had undertaken the maintenance of this, theiraltar spark, which rarely rose to a flame. She was safe enough to comeand go from the passage entrance to the nearby furnace Grenville hadmoved to facilitate her duties, but the smoke seemed far more stiflingand hot than it had the previous day, while, with headache, thirst, anda heaviness in all her weary being, the endlessly cheerful andcourageous little companion of Grenville's maddening ordeal felt readyto drop and rise no more.

Again at his task of constructing a float that should bear him from thecavern to the inlet formed by the spring, Sidney toiled with no mercyto himself in the workshop far down in the rocks. He felt at times hemust gulp down even the water of the sea, so parched was his throat,and so craving was his system.

At five o'clock his bamboo raft was completed, even with braces for hisjugs. It had also been tried in the basin of the cave, and madefinally ready for launching. But the tide would be low till eight.His blast had made the water more approachable than formerly, yet tofight his way against a powerful current would over-tax his strength.In any event he must wait for the darkness of night.

He returned to Elaine, and although he, too, was weary to the bone, herpatient endurance of suspense and suffering aroused him to a state ofanguish in which no exhausting task would have seemed too great for himto undertake. He was wrung by her wistful attempt at a smile.

"The day is nearly done," she said. "The night is sure to be cooler."

It was considerably cooler, but scarcely more fresh, since the smokeappeared to pour in even vaster volumes from the greenery below. Thatthe Dyaks were keeping strict watch on the water supply there could beno reason to doubt. From time to time a weird bit of chanting arosefrom that fume-creating garden that had once been so fair as to winfrom Elaine the prettiest name she knew.

Grenville felt certain, in fact, the boatmen's camp had been made aboutthe inlet or the spring. The short stretch of beach where he andElaine had landed, and where he had later made a bower of the trees,would be certain to attract these half-amphibious savages, though theirboats were moored behind the opposite hill.

For a time he wondered if he might not be more wise to pass entirelyaround the island, to approach the pool of fresh water from below. Butreflecting that various currents of the tide would buffet and besethim, in addition to which he must run the gauntlet past the Dyak boats,he surrendered the suggestion without delay, and impatiently awaitedthe tide.

Three times he went down the passage, torch in hand, to examine thestages of the water. At length he bethought him of two shortscoop-like paddles, to assist in propelling his craft, and feverishlyset about their construction.

They were done in less than half an hour, since they consisted merelyof two half-sections of bamboo cylinder, lashed to a pair of handles.

Elaine was aware he was making ready for more than an ordinaryadventure, as she watched him with her wide and lustrous eyes.

"Perhaps relief may come to-morrow," she finally observed. "You arequite exhausted. Might you not be wiser to rest to-night? We can getalong, I am sure."

But even her voice made a rasp in her throat, so distressed was hersystem for water.

"I need a bit of change," he said. "It is certain to do me good."

With a touch of his former brusqueness, he presently bade her seek hercouch, during the time he expected to be gone, and vanished once moredown the dark, steep passageway, with his paddles and torch in hand.

The torch was left in the gallery, extinguished. The concealing doorwas adjusted to its place. These were mere precautions against thecave's discovery, yet Grenville was certain no Dyaks would approach theplace that night. His two best jugs were placed on the ledge; hiscleaver was hung at his belt. He could take no bombs or lighted brandson such an expedition.

The task of launching his raft on the tide involved unexpected labor.Its lightness made it an easy prey to the swirl that always filled thecavern's walled approach. It was sucked once nearly under, its fartherend disappearing entirely from view—and Granville withdrew it,desperately glad the jugs had not been placed upon it.

Awaiting a quieter mood of the whirlpool, half seen in the darkness, helaunched the float again, and beheld it rest there, quietly, nosingagainst the ledge. He turned for the jugs, but, casting a quick glancebackward, at the slightest of scraping sounds, saw the raft swingingoutward from his reach.

His arm was too short for its recovery. Leaping wildly out in thewater, he caught it again, and was washed against the jagged wallbefore he once more returned it to the landing. He was soaked to theskin, but his pulses throbbed with heat and dogged energy that wouldthink of no defeat.

With his jugs finally laid flat between the bamboo supporters, frontand rear, and with paddles in hand, as he lay at full length on thelight but half-submerged platform, he rowed the raft out with a motionas if he were swimming.

Indeed, like a giant oar-bug, more or less helplessly carried by thecurrent that it rides, he spun slowly about in the maelstrom of thegathering tide before he could escape past the portal and head for theinlet below.

He soon discovered that to continue far in this fatiguing attitudewould abominably strain his neck, if not his entire body. Not withoutconsiderable difficulty, in balancing the craft, he effected a changeof position, and knelt upon the supports.

The waves washed up about his knees and feet, but of this he waspractically oblivious. Assisted now by the current, and with eyesintent on the darkened shore, beyond the uprise of the cliff, hepropelled himself much farther out than formerly, with the purpose ofavoiding the possible vigilance of Dyaks on the beach.

The night was not exceedingly dark, so brilliant was the light from thestars. Once the region of smoke was left behind, the blurred andblended features of the island were sufficiently well revealed for hispurposes, since he knew its every silhouette as well as the contours ofthe coast.

He had rowed and drifted, perhaps, half the distance essential to landat the estuary mouth, when the sound of voices, floated out from theshore, abruptly halted his movements. The Dyaks were there. Eithermotion or any unusual disturbance would suffice to betray his presenceoff the land.

And now, as if every fate had become malignant, the current drifted himinward, where he knew he should keep well away. At the risk ofexciting curiosity, if nothing more, he dipped his paddles, with a slowand silent expenditure of strength, and swept the float powerfullyoutward again, till the shore seemed a part with the sea.

For a time that seemed interminable he hung about that outer stretch,awaiting a further sound of the voices. They did not come. Once moreat last he paddled silently inward, finally worming, as before, to aprostrate position on the raft. The chant of the head-hunters cameagain, as if from the depths of the jungle.

"Now, if ever!" muttered Grenville, half aloud, and impelled by a newand reckless desperation, increased by his thirst and his impotent rageat the creatures still feeding the fumes that Elaine could not avoid,he sent his craft swiftly landward, thankful, at least, for the milddisturbance of breaking ripples on the shore that would drown whatslight noises he might make.

Tempted to moor his float outside the estuary, he readily agreed itmight thereby lead to his discovery, and must, as a matter of fact, becompletely concealed in the shadows of the pool. Excited now by thepossibility that his catamaran, with the oars and rowlocks, might stillremain in its former harbor, he was doomed to prompt disappointment ongaining the estuary basin. There was nothing whatsoever in the place.

His jugs and paddles he had placed upon the sand. It was only the workof a moment to draw his float across the bar and gently thrust it awayfrom sight beneath the overhanging verdure. Then he stood there,knee-deep in the water, straining his ears for the slightest sound ofthe Dyaks stirring in the thicket.

Only the drone of a halting voice was wafted to the place. In silencehe concealed his paddles, and took up his jugs, to wade with the utmostcaution up the pool, towards the spring that formed its source. Thewater about him was brackish, from its mixture with the tide.

Deeper and deeper grew the basin. The water had risen to his waist.He sank in steadily with every step, despairing now with the sickeningthought he might be compelled to swim. Such a task, with two filledjugs, would be impossible, as he bitterly realized. But on he went, asnoiselessly as before.

The water was now about his breast, and he held his jugs above it.Something gently nosed against him—and gave him a start. Thoughts ofthe tropic serpents so frequently inhabiting the water, chilled a thinchannel down his spine. Then he saw that the thing which might havebeen a reptile head was the cork and neck of a bottle. He dipped downand caught it between his teeth, more gratified in all his being thanif it had been a thing of gold.

It almost seemed to the man like a sign that the tide of ill-fortunehad turned—the tide of luck. He had certainly passed the deepestsection of the estuary; he was rising on higher ground.

To avoid the soundings of dripping water, ready to fall from hisclothing, he proceeded more slowly than before. When at length he cameto a strip of barren sand, he rested his jugs, withdrew the cork fromhis bottle, and was gratified to detect the odor of stale beer, orstout, which the thing had formerly contained. He rinsed it then andthere, to make it sweet, and crowded it into his pocket.

When he once more took up his jugs, to resume his quest of drinkablefluid, he was presently confronted by an exceptional tangle of theshrubbery, arching the tortuous windings of the estuary's head. Herehe found himself obliged to pause and noiselessly bend back or break anumber of the slender branches before he could wade as before.

He started some small nocturnal animal out through the growth, and therustling disturbance made by the beast was heard by the Dyaks beyond.One of them called out sharply. To Grenville's complete astonishmentand dismay another man, barely a few yards off, replied with a speciesof grunt. The fellow had come there, either to visit or to set asnare, and must have believed he had frightened the animal himself.

Sidney could hear him working now, as he leaned a bit closer to thefoliage, incapable of moving further while the hunter delayed in thethicket. The fellow presently arose, as if to go. Instead, however,he approached even closer to Grenville's place of concealment, andSidney oozed cold perspiration, helplessly occupied, as he was, with ajug in either hand, and his cleaver still swung at his waist.

To have moved, or attempted to place either jug in the water at hisfeet, must have been fatal to his mission. Yet he felt convinced theDyak must fairly run against him, unless he could move to the side.One of his shoes, moreover, was sinking deeply in slimy mire.

That his balance must be overcome seemed well-nigh inevitable. Abranch from one of the larger trees that grew above him on the bank nowswept so forcibly against the other foliage as the Dyak hauled itdownward, to sever a twig for his trap, that Grenville's face waslightly brushed. When the limb sprang upward a moment later, he pulledhis foot from the hole.

It seemed to the man a quarter of an hour at least that the trapperremained there, a few feet away, making one more sound, from time totime, when it seemed at last he must have departed. When he finallywent, there could be no assurance he would not return again.Notwithstanding this possibility, Grenville slipped furtively alongonce more, disturbed to find how far towards the spring this narrowing,sea-level neck of the inlet continued through the growth.

When he came at length to a rise of the island, down which the tricklefrom the spring had made its course, he found himself at the edge of asmall, grass-grown clearing, that could hardly be more than a stone'stoss away from the Dyaks' temporary camp. A small, deep basin, filledwith the precious water he sought, reflected a star at the zenith ofthe heavens. It some way gave him hope. Of courage he had no lack.

Noiselessly, but without hesitation, he crept forward to the place andbent to drink, then to fill his bottle and jugs. At a snap that camefrom the shadows beyond he looked up alertly, beholding through theleaves a bright bit of fire upon the earth, with two of the Dyaks atit* side. Every accent of their halting conversation came clearly tohis ears.

With his three receptacles filled at last, he began his retreat fromthe place. He had barely vanished from the clearing, and come to thecover of the growth once more, when the man who was laying the snare insome pathway of the small jungle animals came back to complete his work.

Grenville thought his arms must relinquish the holds in their socketsbefore the unsuspecting hunter was content to leave the neighborhood.The jugs, so long and silently held, were rested a moment on the bank,when, at last, the moment did arrive when Sidney could dare retreat.Then down through the stubborn tangle, once more, he moved like asilent shade. With every yard thus placed between himself and thenatives by the spring, the hope in his breast increased.

He came once more to the deeper estuary pool and, lifting his jugs tohis shoulders, waded cautiously forward, nearly up to his throat in thetepid brine that smelled too rank for anything but swamp. He paused byhis raft, for a moment undecided as to whether he should place his jugsin the braces lashed upon it, before he pushed it past the bar, orafter it should float on the tides.

While he stood there, with a sense of exultation daring to warm in hissoul—an exultation centered on Elaine and the joy it must presently beto see her thirst allayed—he suddenly stiffened at the sound of Dyakvoices, alarmingly near at hand.

Retreating instantly, under the shadow of the foliage and against theend of his raft, he placed one jug upon it, noiselessly, and put outhis hand to grasp at a branch to draw himself further from sight.

But the branch on which he laid his grip was suddenly alive. Itwrithed and lashed sharply at his knuckles until, with a shudder ofcomprehension that he had clutched the tail of a snake, he flung it offand knew it had glided away.

He had no choice but to try again, and this time met with betterfortune. Out through the foliage, arranged thus hurriedly about him,he peered towards the low bit of beach. There was no one in sight, butbeyond, on the sea, suddenly looming before him, and coming about toface the protected inlet, a third of the Dyak sailing-boats, a newarrival, manned by an additional group of head-hunters, nosedgracefully up against the tide.

Her anchor was cast, and there she rode, not twenty yards out from theshore.

Like shadowy demons from some world beyond, arrived on some missionmysterious and tragic—some service of the foulest fiend in Hades—fourhalf-seen figures moved along the railing of the craft, destroying thehope in Grenville's bosom.

CHAPTER XXXIX

ADDITIONAL HEAD-HUNTERS

The boatmen thus newly arrived off the estuary's mouth were proceedingin a leisurely and confident manner to make themselves and their vesselsnug for the night, and Grenville had placed his second jug upon hisraft when, without a sound having come to announce their movements, twoor three Dyaks from the camp in the growth called some greeting orchallenge from the shore.

That their words were interpreted in a friendly spirit by the shadowynatives on the anchored boat seemed to Grenville entirely obvious.There was something akin to cheer in the voices that replied across thewater. Every man was seen to halt at his work and come to theshoreward side of the craft, to peer through the darkness towards thebeach.

Three of the fiends with whom he had waged unequal battle now appearedon the sand strip a rod from where Sidney was standing. Their backswere presented as they called and gestured to the men beyond, andGrenville identified the chief once more by the fellow's unusual height.

Apparently an argument ensued, conducted, as to the shoreward end, bythe tall and dominant leader. He waved quick, eloquent gestures,frequently towards the headland whence Grenville had come. That somereport of recent proceedings was being thus delivered there could be noreasonable doubt. Expressions of astonishment, satisfaction, and adiabolical glee came back in guttural staccatos from the blood-lovingcreatures on the vessel.

Grenville almost forgot where he was, and why, such indignation burnedin his breast as he grasped at the substance of the conference thusheld across the tide. Four more head-hunters, come to swell thealready heavily outnumbering forces of the island, was too much forHeaven to permit! Against such odds and such diabolism, what possiblechance——

He smiled in a grim, sardonic manner at the thought that a fightbetween himself and the now augmented Dyaks would ever again be likely,with this boat anchored here before him, Dyaks camping in the jungle,and no trail left by which he could reach the terrace and Elaine, evencould he creep away in the shadows and silence of the thicket.

It appeared to him now that the chief on shore was becoming impatient,or angry. He shouted orders and waved his hand down the length of theisland in a style growing rapidly more and more imperative, while thenew arrivals answered back in a stubborn and sullen dissatisfactionthat Sidney began to hope might lead to open rupture. Should one ofthe factions war against the other, he would think these four boatmen aGodsend.

Even then, he reflected, the situation, as bearing on himself, mightpresent no altered aspect till all was decidedly too late. Should hefail to return to Elaine with water to-night—she would doubtless neversee his face again. Should morning still find him hiding here—theirfates would have a sudden termination. And now, with this craft atanchor in the current, so close inshore, there could be no chance toescape around it unobserved, what possible alternative was offered butto stand here, nearly to his waist in the water, aware that thedeadliest sort of snakes might be coiled within a foot of his hand?

One of the Dyaks a rod away now sat upon the sand. The colloquycontinued. The domineering leader, waxing more and more imperious,made gestures now in both directions. That what he imparted anddeclared was again concerned with himself and Elaine, Grenville couldnot fail to understand. He was puzzled, however, to determine thereason for this lengthy contest of words.

It occurred to his mind the dispute might have sprung from rival claimsas to sharing the trophies, when, at last, the defenders of the terraceshould no longer require their heads. The ghastliness of thesuggestion did not greatly disturb him; he was too far dulled andwearied by things already undergone.

When it seemed at last as if the verbal combat might result in adeadlier feud, the matter between the land and water factions wassuddenly adjusted with accents amazingly mild from either side.Considerably to Grenville's astonishment, the boatmen heaved up theiranchor, eased off their sail, and put about towards the farther end ofthe island.

The three men ashore called out additional instructions, presumably,and followed for a distance down the shore. The boat was presentlygone from Sidney's view. He did not stir, though he ached in everybone and muscle, from his long, hard session of suffering and toil, andthis cramp and strain of hiding. He was well aware that even the Dyakswould soon be obliged, either to retrace their steps and return as theyhad come, or force a way up through the jungle to cross to the island'sfarther side.

That the vessel would join the others, already at anchor behind thesecond hill, he had finally comprehended with a wildness of hope hisheart could scarcely contain. The chief had undoubtedly ordered thecraft away from this particular anchorage lest it be too readily seen.

With barely a grunt or two of conversation between them, the trio seenbefore him on the sand now presently returned. They stood about theestuary inlet for a moment, as if debating some second affair ofimportance, then finally glided away.

Even then Grenville stirred with silent caution, waiting withheartbeats once more quickened lest he move too soon, and be discoveredafter all. The place, however, was deserted. Stiffly, but none theless eagerly, and alert for the slightest alarm, he coaxed his raftfrom the overhanging shrubbery, urged it gently out across the bar,and, hurriedly lashing his jugs to the braces provided, pushed away andheaded far out in the tide.

The current had turned. It was flowing strongly towards the cliff, ina certain impetuous manner that was far from being assuring. Forwhile, in a measure, it assisted Grenville's float, it swirled andbattled with other counter currents, into which he was helplesslycarried. His frail, narrow raft was not infrequently threatened withdisaster.

Twice, for a second, he well-nigh despaired of righting before heshould sink or plunge end downward, capsizing himself and his jugs. Hewas shot far outward from his course by one of the treacherous torrentsof tide, then rocketed straight for the rocks of the cliff by another.His paddles were wholly inadequate for such a struggle; his armsrefused the demands that his will insistently made upon them. Itseemed as if he must break at some vital center of his being before heat length was enabled to avoid a collision with the cliff. Then hesank exhausted, obliged for a moment to pause and rest, when the tideonce more drifted him outward.

Before he could rouse his flagging sinews to another effort, he hadfloated by the cave. He was prodded to new desperation. The strugglehe waged to regain that rocky niche—only to have the whirlpool casthim to the outside current as before, with his raft entirelysubmerged—-was enough to break his heart.

Nothing save the thought of Elaine could have availed to spur him yetonce more to fighting vigor. He did fight again, till it seemed hemust topple like a man of lead, and sink almost gladly in the sea, witha sense of welcome to its endless peace.

A weak and staggering figure he presented when the landing was finallyachieved. He barely pulled his raft within the cavern. He had nostrength left to conceal it in the passage.

Hugging his two heavy jugs of precious liquid, and also with the bottleweighing down his pocket, he groped and stumbled slowly up the gallery,pausing with ever increasing frequency to lean against the walls andrecuperate his strength.

Elaine was aroused from a state of lethargy, where she watched andlistened at the upper door, by sounds that for a moment filled her withalarm. That some noisily breathing animal was making its way up thepassage from the sea was her first half-waking impression.

With a cry of relief and worry blended, she immediately understood. Itwas Grenville's labored panting she had heard, where he would not callfor assistance for fear she should be alarmed. She caught up the torchshe had kept so faithfully alight for his guidance, and ran hastilydown to give him welcome.

He was leaning against the wall once more, his mouth a little open forthe air his lungs demanded, his face drawn and white with his utterweakness and exhaustion. In one keen glance Elaine comprehended hiscondition.

"Sidney!" she cried. "Oh! but why did you go? Why would you work sohard to-night?"

He could conjure no smile to his lips. "I love you, Elaine," heanswered. "It kills me to see you suffer."

"Oh please—please don't," she begged him. Her eyes were brimming withtears.

He sank on the floor of the passage as he tried once more to raise thejugs. And yet, when Elaine pounced eagerly upon the bottle full ofwater, and pressed it to his lips, his stubborn resistance was oncemore reasserted. He accepted a few sips only, then thrust it firmlyaway.

"That last little pull was steeper than I thought," he admitted, as heforced himself to rise and set his jugs more carefully in the rocksagainst the wall. "If you will oblige me by taking a drink ofwater——"

"Not now," Elaine interrupted, as self-denying as before. "I am notthe least bit thirsty. If you'll only rest—if you'll go to sleep——"

"I shall go to no rest till you have taken a cup of water."

She knew he would not. She drank from the bottle, perhaps threeordinary swallows of the liquid, like nectar to her palate.

"Good-night," he said, with a touch of his old-time brusqueness, and,adding nothing more, he continued on to the barrier and out to his postof duty. There he sank on a rock before the door to guard Elaine fromharm.

Elaine, softly crying, went back at last to her couch. And some time,deep in the silence of the night, she awoke sufficiently to creep tothe door, where she listened to Grenville, deeply sleeping.

CHAPTER XL

PLOT AND COUNTER PLOT

The smoke that for two forbidding days had veiled and grayed theheadland, continued to drift from the jungle, when Grenville rousedfrom his slumber.

He was much refreshed, yet had not entirely recuperated the strength sodrained in the night. The aspect of the barren rock, engulfed in thefumes, was only what he had expected. He felt convinced that, like themistral of the Riviera, this wind would continue for three full days atleast. And the Dyaks were hardly likely to permit an abatement of thesmoke while it brought no discomfort to themselves.

Apparently they had made no effort to bridge the gap that rendered thetrail completely useless. It was clear to Sidney's mind, however, thatso soon as they believed the adventure safe, they would swarm upon theterrace, if for nothing else, then in search of heads and the treasure.

With the possible development of an earlier plan in his mind, hecrossed at once to his cannon, loaded and primed in its bed, and beganto adjust a lot of loose stones above and upon it, to hide itcompletely from view. The fuse he drew, meantime, aside, where hemeant to splice another length to its end.

Elaine came out from the narrow confines of her gallery in the hope oflending assistance. She was wearing the tiger's jeweled collar abouther slender waist.

"I'm hiding the gun—masking our battery," Sidney informed her,quietly. "Its muzzle is still unobstructed and pointed as before. Incase it seems wise to permit the Dyaks to climb up at last and lookabout, I prefer they shouldn't steal our thunder." If he noted thegolden girdle, he made no unusual sign.

Elaine was considerably puzzled.

"But—why should we let them come?"

"To convince them their prisoners have flown. It may give us a chanceto punish them harder, later on."

"If a steamer would only come!" she said, turning vainly to the sea,still shrouded from view. "Even a Chinese junk! Anything, almost, butmore of these horrible fiends!"

"You see," continued Grenville, "I can make an imitation cannon, fromone of my bamboo lengths, and leave it here to fool them. They may beled to think it the only gun we've had, and search no farther for ourordnance. The smoke is likely to lift, I think, which is why I'm atwork before breakfast."

He did not complete the arrangements of his ruse before they broketheir fast, however, since the making of an imitation cannon requiredat least an hour. The last of their meat, save a little intended forfishing-bait, was consumed with the insignificant remnants of theirfruit supply, and Grenville took time to catch one silvery fish fromthe ledge in front of the cavern, as well as to gather a lot of themussels, for luncheon and dinner, before he returned to the terrace.

Already the breeze was failing. There were streaks of highlyacceptable air interspersed with the billows of smoke. Not without acertain impatience to have this business concluded before the veilingfumes should leave the terrace entirely exposed to the penetrativesight of the Dyaks, Grenville hastened the construction of hisimitation gun, to be left by the heap of stones.

That a more convincing appearance of over-use might assist in creatingthe desired impression, he selected one of the bamboo sections alreadybadly split. This he readily blackened by burning a handful of powder,loosely, inside its muzzle. With a rude vent cut and similarlytreated, the affair was ready to be bound with discarded creepers, thenlodged in the rocks above the genuine bit of artillery still ready forgrim engagements.

All that remained of the powder in his cave was carefully moved to thepassage, there to be most cautiously deposited, away from all possiblefire, along with his coils of fuse. Somewhat to his disappointment,the northerly breeze seemed once more freshening as the morning hoursadvanced. He had hoped not only for a lifting of the smoke, butlikewise to find the Dyaks' boat once more encircling the headland.

Beyond transferring his water supply from the jugs to a number ofbamboo buckets, which permitted no waste by percolation, he had nothingfurther to employ his time as the day wore slowly on. The heat in themeantime was intolerable. The fish was roasted in an "oven" hefashioned of the heat-retaining tufa. The mussels were likewise"steamed" in their own exuding juices, occupying the large andbasin-like sea-shell for the purpose.

It was not until nearly four in the afternoon that the wind definitelyveered. Grenville had noted the coming alteration that would clear thehill of fumes in time to make all essential preparations for the Dyakwatchfulness. His furnace of fire was duly banked, to continue asmoldering glow among the ashes without producing smoke. Elaine hadretired within the passage, and the entrance door to this secrethiding-place was adjusted against the rock.

Grenville remained upon the terrace. No less a degree of vigilancethan that previously exercised was, he felt, highly essential.Concealed in the caves or rocks comprised by the former camp he couldnot only guard against surprise by a bridging of the ruined trail, buthis view of the sea, that might once more be haunted by the Dyak craft,was practicably without limit.

Apparently the Dyaks, too, had been aware the breeze would serve themno longer. The smudges in the jungle were extinguished. In a timecomparatively brief, after the shifting of the wind, no smoke at allwas visible. But during the final hour preceding sunset another phaseof fiendish ingenuity developed.

The Dyaks began shooting arrows of fire all about on the summit of theterrace. They were shafts made highly inflammable by means of resinand pitch. Their flight through the air was not sufficiently violentto extinguish their glowing ends. If they did not blaze upon alightingon the rocks, they still retained sufficient heat and redness to ignitea pan of powder.

It was this that occurred to Grenville as he made up his mind that somegenius of diabolism among the new arrivals was doubtless responsiblefor this effort to explode his magazine. His satisfaction with himselffor his foresight in storing his powder anew was his one real joy ofthe day. He wondered how long this business might continue, and howmany of the enemy must now be reckoned with.

As a matter of fact, with the four who had come under cover of thenight, there were nine unscathed by previous engagements. Also, itwas, as Grenville had suspected, one of the latest comers who hadcounseled the use of burning arrows. Since the terrace defenders wereemploying some dreaded explosive, the one course readily suggested wasto reach his supply with a brand of fire—and, perhaps, thereby destroyits maker. In any event, deprived of this one deadly means of defense,the whites could be readily slaughtered.

Already the Dyaks had built a bridge, to be used, when the time shouldat last arrive, for spanning that gap on the trail. It was notimpossible, many had urged, that the prisoners lodged on the headland'ssummit were already either dead or dying. How they had managed tosurvive so long, with no supply of water, was sufficiently mysterious.Should they still be found alive another day—all the greater the joyof bringing about the end!

The Dyak plan for reaching the magazine had been too hastily concocted.The supply of tarred and resined arrows was decidedly insufficient.Less than a score had been sent to the top of the terrace when the lastwas speeded on its way. But during the short remaining hour ofdaylight, and even by firelight, after dark, the shafts accumulatedswiftly, against the coming of the dawn.

Meantime to Grenville had come an inspiration. His one clear hope forthe morning was that more of the arrows might be shot from below tomake his plans complete. If the Dyaks were busy after dark, they couldscarcely have matched the fever with which he likewise toiled.

Down to the cool, dry chamber of the cavern he had carried no less thaneight of his largest bombs, with coil upon coil of his fuse. Two minesof four bombs each he planted, concealing all with rocks. From each ofthe mines one fuse only was laid, to the inner angle of the passage.Each bomb had a shorter bit of fuse thrust in a handful of powder, towhich the two main fuses led. The lines were carefully protected, notonly against discovery, but as well against himself, or his boots, ashe tramped back and forth from the cave. When this arrangement hadbeen made complete, he could do no more in that direction till hisfavorable hour should arrive.

His next attention was directed to his bamboo float, which had beenpractically dismembered. He had utilized the heavy stems to constructa long and narrow platform, with two rude hooks lashed on the end toengage a rung of his ladder. This ladder he not only lowered down fromthe wall to a position in front of the cavern's opening, securing itsend with more than ordinary caution among the rocks he piled upon it,but also he had tested the length, and every rung, by extending hisplatform across from the ledge and climbing from the sea to the terrace.

It was midnight before his final preparation was complete. This hadbeen simply arranged. He had carried a canister of powder to theoutside rocks, considerably back of Elaine's former shelter, togetherwith two small bombs. The powder he laid in a six-foot ring, orspiral, that narrowed towards the center, merely to provide a lastingand widespread flash when at length it should be ignited.

The bombs were placed near by, simply laid in a cave of no considerabledimensions. Their fuses were trailed across the rocks to a place ofobservation, and were opened out in such a manner as to fire both thespiral and the noisy but harmless explosives.

Despite his nervous tension and the worry occasioned in his mind, lest,the Dyaks fail of their allotted part, Grenville finally slept assoundly as a boy, when at length he could work no more. But Elaine,strangely tingling with apprehension, concerned with the part that shemust likewise play to render his plans effective, had not Sidney'sweariness to overcome her nerves, and therefore rested badly.

For long she lay there, listening, as always, to the silence enfoldingthe island, thinking how fair it had really been when the wail alonehad been with them, and wondering, eagerly wondering, if by chance hercompanion of the hours both bright and dark had noticed the girdle shewas wearing.

CHAPTER XLI

A LIVING BAIT

The morning dawned in beauty, a few clouds riding with thistle-downlightness athwart the illimitable dome of blue, as intense as that ofthe sea. A light breeze stirred in the jungle, to wander aimlesslyfrom one deep chalice of fragrance to another, before it trailed acrossthe hill. Sea tang arose from the restless tide, that washed at thecliff incessantly.

As far as sight could pursue the richness of its causeway, the sun laidgold in glittering mosaic across the tropic ocean. Never had thesparkling waves seemed brighter, the world more promising, as Elainepeered forth through her chink in the door, awaiting—God only knewwhat.

She had never been more excited, and rarely more alarmed. The unknownelement in Grenville's plans kept her nerves at the highest tension.They had eaten a breakfast solely of fish before the light of daybreak.Grenville had carefully closed the passage barrier, and crept out uponthe terrace. On no account must she open the door, or call him, to herside. She must wait, and not even expect to hear a report of what wasoccurring.

The longest cord she had ever helped to braid was lightly secured toher arm. Its farther end was tied in the rocks at the lower exit ofthe passage. Until she should feel his tug upon this signal line, shecould only imagine that Sidney was near, or, perhaps, was climbing downhis ladder.

She dreaded the thought of that ladder, so frailly depending above therocks and water, not to mention all its use might mean when the timefor the signal should arrive. And she might be obliged to wait allday, as Sidney had warned her, duly—all day, while the wildest, themost tormenting of conjectures would leisurely elaborate themselves inher brain to convince her that Sidney was no more.

Should he fall from the cliff, should he chance to underestimate theDyaks' treacherous activities—should any one of a dozen possiblecalamities occur—how long must she wait till she knew?

Meantime Grenville was barely less keyed to excited expectancy thanElaine in her prison-like retreat. Times without number he goaded hismind to review once more the inventory of his scheme, where the lack ofone small detail might prove his entire undoing. Yet, after all, therewere a few links only in the chain, though each was vitally important.

He counted them over carefully—the signs or proof of calamity, here onthe hill, to convince the head-hunting demons his magazine was gone,and with it all possible defense; the ladder and platform down below,whereby he could reach the cave; the bombs for the climax, should hishope succeed; and fire for their certain ignition.

He had taken a double precaution to provide himself with fire. Down inthe passage several brands were smoldering slowly in their ashes, whileothers did the same on the hill. He could think of nothinglacking—not even the cord to warn Elaine to open her door and fleeoutside when at length he should give her the signal!

But as if in mockery of all this careful business, the day began withnever a sign from the jungle. The Dyaks, he feared, had altered theirplan, and might shoot no more of their arrows. He could not have knownthey were waiting for the breeze to freshen and fill a certain sail.One of their boats had been prepared and manned to police the headlandas before.

When Grenville at length beheld it, gracefully sharp and picturesque,as it rounded towards the master cliff, he was filled with conflictingemotions. He had wished for this, precisely, but not without the rest.The arrows first, had been his hope, and then this silent vulture,atilt in the purple tides.

The arrows presently arrived. He was still engaged in watching themovements of the boat, in an effort to count the crew, when the firstof the flaming messengers struck dully against a bowlder and lay there,fiercely blazing.

Then the sudden flight, which, against an inky background, must havepresented an extraordinary spectacle, afforded a sight strange enough,as Grenville presently conceded. The pitch and resin with which theshafts were tipped, burned with a black and heavy smoke, that trailedin their wakes like nebulous tails of cloud-producing comets. Therewere some of the flames that the flight only served to fan to fiercerheat and color. Like a candle sputtering in a draught they sounded asthey flew.

Others that lost their yellow blaze smoked the more blackly in the air.In half a dozen different spots the hotly burning lengths of wood weresoon consuming bits of scattered leaves and grass, one almost atGrenville's feet.

He was soon convinced that, should this rain of fire be long continued,he should have no need to fire his bombs and spiral. The arrows wouldactually accomplish the mission for which they were intended. He hadno wish for a premature climax to the singular attack, but rather hopedto create the impression he was fighting desperately to protect hismagazine.

When a heap of waste and useless creepers was presently ignited, he ranfrom his place and promptly beat it out. He wished he might be seen.He was gratified without delay. The rifleman, posted, as on previousoccasions, in the rocks that crowned the second hill, promptlydischarged his erratic weapon, and nearly killed one of his kind.

Grenville ran as if to cover. A shout of exultation came from below.A larger and swifter flight of the blazing shafts immediately ensued.

Sidney now cast a glance about for the ship that was cruising by theheadland. Somewhat to his disappointment it had gone about as if toreturn to the west, from which the cave, his platform, and ladder couldnot, of course, be seen. He fancied, however, it had come up in staysat the sound of the shot on the hill. It certainly appeared to bepaying off to continue about the headland. He dared not longer delay.

The arrows were blazing all about him. He feared at last that onelucky shot might even fire his cannon. Almost amused by the irony ofthe situation, he caught up the nearest blazing shaft of fire, and usedit to light his fuse.

In the briefest time the serpent of fire sped down through the hollowedcreeper to the spiral, where, also, lay the bombs. Of a sudden thepowder was ignited.

With a flash of quickly leaping flames and a grayish geyser of fume,the destruction began. Then, as a cry of glee arose from the clearingbelow, the bombs went off in quick succession.

They made a splendid noise and smoke, scattering fragments of the tufafar and wide, till a rain of the smaller pieces spattered thickly downin the jungle. Grenville arose from his hiding-place, quite unharmed,and ran about on the terrace crazily, holding his head between hishands for the distant rifleman to witness his discomfort.

The Dyak was overjoyed. He shouted in reckless delight to his kind,who howled like a pack of wolves now certain of feasting. Yet they didnot emerge from their places of concealment, nor undertake to bridgethe trail, and immediately ascend the hill, as Grenville had somewhatfeared.

He crept to a point of vantage, watching the clearing for ademonstration which, much to his gratification, did not arrive. Backonce more towards the cliff at the rear he scuttled, beholding the Dyakcraft at last heading well around towards the cave. The moment wasripe for his scheme!

Hurriedly creeping to the eastern brink, with one of his firebrandsgripped between his teeth, he began a descent of the ladder. Halfwaydown he paused for breath, and furtively watched, from the tail of hiseye, for the boat that should presently appear.

It came within range of his vision silently, and down he continued asbefore. He could only hope that he might have been seen, for never asound arose from the crew to make the matter certain. For, perhaps, adistance of twenty feet he must have been plainly in view. The lastfleeting sight he caught of the boat, she was putting about with asuddenness enormously exciting to his blood.

That the Dyaks had seen him, and were now intent upon turning awaybefore he should turn and see their boat, and know himself discovered,was an inescapable conclusion. A moment later he was hidden by theledge, and descended more at leisure, climbing inside the ladderpresently, where it hung well out from the overhanging shelf, and socoming down upon his platform, with little or no exertion.

Immediately on landing under the mouth of the cavern, he lifted theplatform bodily, disengaged the hooks from the ladder's lower rung, anddrew it behind him to the cave. The ladder itself he could not removewithout climbing up to the terrace and issuing forth at the hiddendoor, which would doubtless prove fatal to his plans.

He proceeded at once to his supplementary firebrands, in the largerspread of the gallery. Here all was going well. He extinguished oneor two branches of the smoldering wood, to conserve the limited supply.After that it was simply a matter of waiting.

How long it would take for the boat crew to land, inform their fellowhead-hunters of what they had seen, and fetch the entire company tocapture him, here in the chamber, was not a matter for easy estimation.He hoped it might happen soon.

In this he was doomed to disappointment. The Dyak sailors had seenhim, clearly enough. They had hastened back to report this eminentlysatisfying outcome of their tactics, and the nine eager fiends had thenand there commenced their counter scheming. But they meant to commitno errors, assume no unnecessary risks.

For, notwithstanding the fact they were fully convinced the white man'sexplosives had been reached by their arrows and destroyed, theyretained a vivid memory of punishments inflicted by the gun, where onemore deadly hail of slugs might lurk to find them again. It was,however, important that one or more men should mount the terrace, towatch at the head of the white man's ladder, and even render its use afatal experiment, should the climber attempt to regain the summit byits means.

They began investigations cautiously—all noted by Elaine. Peeringbreathlessly out at her narrow chink, her heart consumed with hauntingworries, lest Grenville had met with some accident when the bombs werefinally exploded, she now beheld a pair of the Dyaks in the clearing,apparently exposing themselves as if to draw any latent fire from thehill.

As the minutes went by and trouble failed to come, their boldnessplainly increased. They were not particularly hurried, however, inproducing their bridge for the trail. When at length four nativesbrought it from the jungle, Elaine's heart pounded in her breast like ahammer forging at her soul.

She had instantly recognized the bamboo platform. She thought thatSidney ought to come—to know of what was occurring. But he did notcome, and could not leave his post below, where one of his fuses, hehad found, had opened and spilt out its powder. This he was feverishlyand gingerly working to repair, by the light of a glowing brand.

Not for a moment daring to abandon her place by the door, Elaine felt ahorrible sense of weakness attack her entire system as the Dyakscautiously adjusted their bridge, while watching against a new surprise.

That the four men now constantly visible must presently succeed inplacing the slender platform from one broken ledge to the other, tomount in full possession of the terrace, Elaine could not fail tocomprehend. The impulse to creep from her hiding-place and once morefire the cannon was fairly overwhelming. She was certain that Sidney,with all his wonderful scheming, had never contemplated this!

He had simply instructed her to wait—to remain in the passage, behindthe concealing barrier, no matter what occurred, till she felt at lastthe tug of the cord on her arm. She felt she must obey, that even todesert her post for the little time required to hasten down the galleryand let him know of the dangers now about her might cost themeverything!

Never had she in her life been subjected to such a trial as that whichpresently developed.

The Dyaks had spanned the gap where the ledge was broken. Two of themcrept a little forward on the bridge. It was now or never to fire thegun, while the four were still in range. She dared not disobey theorder given by her chief. Suddenly darting past the spot where thecannon had taken its toll before, the Dyaks gained the summit—and werefinally in possession of the camp!

CHAPTER XLII

LONG HOURS OF DOUBT

Grenville had hoped to be able to hasten for a moment up the galleryand assure Elaine that all was well, and the matter now merely one ofpatience.

His belated discovery that one of his fuses was deficient had somewhatshaken his nerves. Except for this timely restoration, his wholeproject must have been weakened, perhaps to absolute failure. His lineof fuse was necessarily long, to assure essential safety for himself.He was obsessed with a fear that countless defects might have developedin the long line of powder-loaded creeper since the day it was made andlaid away.

In a fever of anxious searching, he examined practically every inch ofboth the lines, meantime returning frequently to the cavern's mouth, toguard against surprise. Before he felt certain the fuse could all berelied upon to perform its part in the business, he finally detected aDyak boat attempting to go about and escape his possible observationfrom the dark retreat, while obviously hovering near, to watch that hedid not escape.

After that he dared not for a moment desert his post. And the longerthe expected Dyaks remained away, the more imperative became hiswatchfulness and constant attendance at the cave.

Meanwhile, up at her flimsy door, Elaine leaned affrightedly againstthe chilling wall, no longer peering forth at the chink, but tenselylistening—listening for the sounds of feet above her head. All fourof the Dyaks were there on the terrace, and, therefore, a few rods onlyfrom the passage in which she crouched, alone.

There was nothing to see, save the platform and part of the trail, andshe dared not stand so close to the door, lest her very breathing, orthe beat of her heart, betray her presence at her post.

When at length the unmistakable sound of beings on the rocks directlyoverhead came dully down through the roof of pitted stone, she shrankentirely down to the floor, her heart in a sickening flutter. Just tohave cried out Sidney's name and to run like a child down the passageto his arms, would have been a relief so incredibly vast its comfortcould not have been measured.

But she did not move. She still obeyed, like the faithful comrade inarms she was, awaiting her portion, allotted by the Fates, though itmight be death in its most revolting form.

What sounds were made by the Dyaks, in retreat from that particularposition, failed to come down through the rock. She was, therefore,denied the abatement of her apprehension which she might otherwise haveknown. She was thoroughly convinced that one of the fiends had beenposted above the passage opening to remain indefinitely on guard.

The Dyaks had, however, concluded their examination of the terracerather promptly. There was almost nothing worth investigation.Grenville's imitation cannon had served its purpose to perfection. Thehead-hunters marveled that a gun so simply and readily constructedcould have wrought such havoc in their ranks. But they found no reasonto doubt it had been used, and they readily overlooked the small brasspiece so artfully hidden by the stones.

They had lost no time in removing the bowlders that supported Sidney'sladder. One or two only they suffered to remain—sufficient to anchorthe affair in place, yet permit their man to drop back in the tide,should he intrust his weight to it.

That the white man's powder magazine had been greatly diminished beforetheir flaming arrows completed its destruction seemed indisputable.The bombs had torn out and blackened so much of a cavity that theDyaks' gratification was complete. It was scarcely possible, theyargued, that the man seen running crazily about had escaped a mortalhurt. He had certainly summoned the strength to escape to the cave,but there he might have died.

All the waste sections of Sidney's bamboo were thrown with his cannonand his flag-pole in the sea. A thorough search was made of Elaine'sformer shelter, as well as of all the rock heaps on the place, for thetreasure the man might have taken from the cave and concealed about hiscamp.

Not until some time after noon did the visitors finally leave the hilland disappear in the jungle growth to mature their further plans.Elaine knew nothing of their departure. She still remained back in thedarkness of the gallery, and, therefore, neither heard nor saw themovements made on the ledge. She was hardly less prepared than beforeto see the door of the gallery rudely torn away at any moment, and thehideous head-hunters confidently pouncing in upon her.

Grenville, down in the blackness of the cavern, was hardly more easy inhis mind. The Dyaks had failed to appear before the cave. He realizedthey might conclude to starve him to death in the tomb-like place,rather than risk another of his traps. To return to the terrace wasout of the question. Not only might the natives be present, but, ifonce he were seen, they must immediately realize he had some unknownmeans of passage from the cave to the summit.

That the ladder would be watched he was certain. It was also more thanlikely, he was sure, the Dyaks would either cut through the strands toweaken it, near the top, or displace the rocks he had heaped upon itsend. Reflecting that to pull it down while one of their craft wascruising about the headland might convince them he had fallen in thesea, he laid his platform out on the ledge for the purpose before theterrace had been deserted. But the boat was not to be seen.

At noon the sun beat down on the rocks about the cave with a hot,intolerable glare. Grenville was weary, as well as thirsty once more,and faint from lack of food. He dared not abandon the cavern now,however, since any moment might find the Dyaks slipping to the openniche to complete the deed they had vainly attempted before.

Never had the long, sultry hours of afternoon dragged by moretediously. Never had the man so vividly realized how much it meant tobe near Elaine, to hear her voice, to gaze in the depths of her eyes.

It was not till the sun was about to set that his long, impatient vigilwas somewhat rewarded at last. The Dyak boat drifted barely in sight,as he crouched there on the shattered ledge.

Without a moment's hesitation, even as he saw that the craft wasbeating back, as before, to the shelter behind the cliff, he ran outhis platform, dropped its end across a rung of the ladder, and cast aheavy stone as far out upon it as possible.

It hung there, solidly enough, for a moment, then slipped a foot—andabruptly the whole writhing length came down, to land in the whirlpooland sink. The platform, however, was recovered. Returning at once tohis place behind the wall, Sidney waited in new expectancy for theDyaks to appear.

They did not come. The sun went down—and with it Grenville's hope.The head-hunters feared him still! They must have determined sometrick was prepared against their invasion of the cave! He was utterlysick with discouragement. His long, hard day, to say nothing ofElaine's, had been spent like this, in vain. He felt he had merelylost ground. The Dyaks were doubtless already in possession of theterrace, where he could not attack them to advantage, since preciselyas soon as he made his appearance on the hill-top the passage must berevealed.

He clung to the hope that dusk would bring the murderous pack to hisstand—that they might have waited for darkness to sneak upon himunawares. But the twilight faded into blackest night, with cloudsobscuring the friendly stars, and still no head-hunters came.

When at length he was certain no native would dare intrust himself orhis boat to the treacherous maelstrom of the niche, he abandoned hopefor the night. Returning to the passageway, he closed its door behindhim, secured it with the bar, and groped his way upward through thevelvet gloom for a word of cheer with Elaine.

He called to her softly as he came towards the top, and she hasteneddown to meet him. She was certain something had gone amiss, but hercourage was sufficient to sustain almost anything, so long as she knewhe was safe.

"Got a bit hungry," he told her, off-handedly. "Those chaps do keepone waiting!"

"Sh-s-s-sh!" she said, in a warning whisper; "I think they're justoutside."

"You saw them come up?" he asked her, eagerly.

"Four of them—after you fired the bombs. They put a bridge across thehole, as you thought, perhaps, they might."

"H'm," said Sidney, quietly, going to the door and peering forth on thejungle. "They haven't gone down since?"

"Not that I saw. I wasn't watching all the while."

"You haven't heard them talking, near the door?"

"No, oh no! I haven't heard a thing! I haven't known what to do—orwhether you were alive or dead. I didn't know what my duty was when Isaw them come up, and wanted to fire the cannon! I thought the daywould never end! Have you had to give up at last?"

"Certainly not!" he assured her, cheerfully, aware from every accent ofher voice what tortures she had suffered there alone. "I must soonreturn—and you must go to bed. I haven't the slightest idea they willcome before next high tide, about eight, or later, in the morning.Meantime you did exactly right. They haven't the slightest notion ofthis secret passage, you may be sure, or nothing on earth could havekept them out. And they long since returned to their boats.... Isuppose you have had neither food nor water. A little hurried supperfor us both, and I must go down to the basem*nt for the night."

Elaine had removed the cord from her arm, and secured it by the door.Sidney ignited a slender piece of torch-wood, by the smoldering brandsmaintained in the upper passage. He carried it promptly around theangle of the gallery, however, as an added precaution against theescape of one revealing beam through the chink that pierced the barrierfacing the jungle world.

The dinner they ate was neither warm nor comforting. Cold fish isbarely sustaining, while the tonic properties of water are scarcelyworth describing. Elaine, however, was enormously reheartened, thus tohave Sidney there again, and know he had suffered no hurt. She badehim good-night when their meager repast was finished, with the bravestcheer that Grenville had taken to heart for many a weary day. Then,with the cord once more on her arm, she resumed her place by the door.

CHAPTER XLIII

THE HOUR OF CLIMAX

Grenville made no attempt to sleep as the long night went laggardly by.He dozed, from sheer weariness, now and again, with his back againstthe rocks, but two or three times in every hour he rose from his placeto go out on the ledge, where he listened to catch the slightest soundthat might be made above the ceaseless lapping of the water. He wouldthen return to the gallery, assure himself the smoldering brands wereready for use at any moment, and once more sit down to wait and nod.

Elaine was equally sleepless. Far more than Grenville she feared nighttreacheries on the part of the Dyaks from the jungle. The state of hernerves, since the terrace was so readily accessible to the head-huntingbutchers, permitted no thought of sleep. Moreover, never since theirarrival on the island had Grenville so far exiled himself from her sidethroughout a night. She had always felt protected heretofore, and uponthat protection had relied.

As restlessly as the man below she came to the door, times withoutnumber, to listen for sounds the jungle might surrender, as well as towatch through the darkness for the slightest inimical sign. Not asound, however, did the night vouchsafe her straining senses; not theslightest movement in all the world of shadows, life, and tragedy aboutand below her position could her blazing eyes detect.

She had never known a night so long, or one so haunted with fears. Herimagination played cruelly upon her heart, picturing one dread scene ofbutchery after another, with Sidney completely overwhelmed and finallyslain, while she, no longer desirous of life, awaited her fate in adumb and dulled indifference. She was certain the morning would neverdawn again, or, if it did, the one man pitted against these savagesmight not even have time for one faint tug on the cord about her arm,more like a farewell than a signal.

It was a red and troubled break of day that finally reddened theeastern sky, where clouds were banked above the sea. Grenville haddozed for perhaps as much as twenty minutes. He awoke with a startfrom lurid dreams in which he had fancied himself awake aftercriminally oversleeping, only to find himself and Elaine pinned down bya horde of the merciless brutes to whom human heads are trophies.

The red of the sky for a moment confirmed some remaining disorder ofhis thoughts. He had stumbled quickly to the cavern's mouth, fromwhich the sanguinary streaks and blotches, now painting the far horizonand dully reflected in the sea, were confusedly presented.

The coolness of the haunting breeze, that crept like a presence aboutthe silent island, restored him soon and cleared the mists from hisbrain. He stood for several minutes, gazing listlessly forth,disgusted with the outcome of the night.

Once more he returned to the gallery to inspect his brands of fire.And once again, on returning to the chamber, his inclination was toprop his back against the wall and let himself sink in slumber.

The dawn-light was slowly increasing. He watched it dully for a momentmore, and yawned as he stumbled heavily towards the utter discomfort ofhis resting-place.

Once more he adjusted his weary limbs upon the ledge, reflecting onwhat expedient he must now adopt, since this, his coup-de-main, hadso egregiously failed. He thought he was planning brilliantly when heonce more fell asleep. The slightest of sounds that was foreign aliketo tide or breeze now failed to arouse his senses as his head cameforward on his breast.

Not another sound was made where that one had strangely risen from thefront of the shattered ledge. Even the sharpest eyes would have beenfor a moment tricked by the shadows of the rocky niche, where the tidewas darkly swirling. A fragment of the lower cliff then appeared to bedetached.

It was simply Grenville's catamaran, with two or three natives upon itsdeck, silently maneuvering to land. Back of it, just well off thefrowning headland wall, the bow of a larger Dyak craft appeared for thefraction of a minute.

The head-hunting fiends had arrived! They had chosen the hour whenexhaustion finally culminates and claims the helpless sentinel, heavilydreaming that all is well!

Aware that the slightest disturbance might warn their intended victimsin the cave, the Dyaks labored with the utmost caution to fetch thefloat to the ledge. This they presently accomplished, fending it offat a vital moment lest it scrape against the rock.

Two of the half-clad demons now landed, their movements as sinuous andsilent as a serpent's. Instantly flattening down upon the tide-lappedshelf, while the third of their party skillfully guided the catamaranonce more to the larger craft without, they waited as patiently as theshadows, of which they seemed a part.

The plans of the crew on the boat without had been matured with muchsagacity. The transfer of two more men to the raft was quickly andnoiselessly accomplished, and once again the catamaran was permitted toswing on the tide's rotation into the open entrance of the inlet.

This second pair, with knives between their teeth and hands thereforeunencumbered, were a trifle overeager to gain the mouth of the cave.One of them caught at the fissured edge of tufa with avid fingers,while the float was responding to the force of the whirl. His hold wasrudely broken, yet so sharply had he dug in his nails that a fragmentof rock was broken away. It plumped with a gurgle in the water.

Grenville was suddenly awakened—not so much by the sound the bit ofrock had made as by something more subtle in the very air—a somethingonly to be interpreted by that instinct surviving from ages dark andold.

He was suddenly alive to a sense of imminent danger lurking fearfullyclose at hand. None too soon and none too silently he rose to hisfeet, for there at the ledge the catamaran was halted and, even as thetwo impatient Dyaks landed, their companions came worming up the shelf.

A moment more and all must have been too late, as Grenville clearlyrealized. Indeed, with the utmost caution only could retreat to hisgallery be effected without a betrayal of his presence. He dared notmove swiftly from his post—and yet he must be quick!

Slowly and noiselessly withdrawing from his place beside the wall, hetook one long step inwards, towards the door he must place against theopen gallery entrance.

The dawn-light, redder and more intense, now cast an intangible shadowin the chamber as a Dyak's head appeared above the ledge. The fiendswere all but on his heels!

He slipped within the passage, without creating the slightest sound,save the loud, tumultuous pounding of his heart. Lifting the door noless cautiously into its proper position, he left a crack, that wasbarely a half-inch wide, through which to watch his visitors, writhinglike so many pythons over the shelf and into the ebon well of gloom.

Their plan was to crawl to the confines of the cave—unless they shouldcreep by chance upon their sleeping victims sooner, leaving a couplecrouched outside to prevent the quarry's escape. Torches were not tobe lighted until every man was posted, and then would be thrown to thecenter of the cavern where their light would reveal the chamber'soccupants, while the outer rim of darkness still concealed the gleamingknives. A counter attack would be rendered out of the question. Thecordon would be complete.

Three of those strangely-moving shadows Grenville plainly discerned.There was nothing more to be seen—and nothing to be heard. Thatseveral Dyaks were almost at his feet he felt, but could not haveproved. He had hoped for half a dozen at the least. He hoped for themstill, and deliberately waited, trusting they might arrive.

It seemed such a pity to waste his mines and not obliterate the lot!He wondered if more of them might not come—then how he should know, ifthey did.

Meanwhile, the three not included here in the cave-attacking party wereequally active above. The red of the dawn had seen them advancingthrough the jungle where they meant to take the hill and block theretreat of the victims to that eminence by any chance of extra laddersor white man's baffling magic.

Elaine beheld them, through the strengthening light, so soon as theycrossed the clearing. They paused there as if for a signal, which theymay or may not have received. It gave the girl, who had watched withan ever-increasing fever through the night and that blood-red dawn, along wild moment in which to imagine fates untold that must haveovertaken Sidney.

She was certain at last he was murdered in the cave, and that now, withthe passageway finally known, the fiends, whose passion was takinghuman life, had come to complete their tale of butchery and plunder.Why else should they once more visit the hill at such an hour of themorning? They had barely waited for the dawn to make certain of theirwork!

She saw them coming furtively up the trail, aware, she was sure, thatby means of the hidden gallery their movements might be seen. She hadheld a wasting firebrand in her tense little fist for the past twohours. And now—if only Sidney had told her what to do in such anextremity as this! If only it might be her duty to fire the cannon!

It seemed as if she must obey the impulse—and perhaps save both oftheir lives! The Dyaks were almost at the bridge. They must soon comefairly in range of the gun! After that—it would be too late!

Below, in the cavern, during this time, Grenville was haunted withdoubts. He had waited in hopes other Dyaks would come, and not a soundhad rewarded his straining senses. He began to fear he had waited toolong—that the creatures whose shadows had crept within had searchedall the place and departed.

Yet he knew that they could not have passed him and left him unaware.The light was now all in his favor, and steadily increasing. With asudden determination to take what toll the Fates had offered, he gropedhis way back to his brands of fire, and then to the ends of his fuse.

Elaine, with her heart all but bursting, with excitement for which shehad no vent, saw the head-hunters pause on the slender bridge beforethey crept upward as before. Her weight was leaned against the doortill it moved a little from its bearings.

She was sure it had made some far-reaching sound that the Dyaks couldnot fail to hear. They had paused again—and again moved up thetrail—and found her helpless. The cord on her arm!—if Sidney wouldonly pull the cord——

The sharp little tug that suddenly came now startled a cry from herlips. Instantly thrusting away the door and bounding from the narrowledge to the upper level of the terrace, she ran towards the fuse withher cone of fire, just as Grenville, down in the gallery of rock, camemadly plunging upward.

He had lighted the fuse, and was groping towards the top, a fear thathe might be buried pursuing at his heels. He stumbled across the heavyload of treasure, left in its basket by the wall.

As one in an earthquake or fire clutches up something to save it,instinctively, so he laid hold of this useless dross and tugged ithotly up the passage. He reached the upper angle thus before herealized the folly of his action. He was certain then, as he droppedthe load, that something had happened to his mines.

Before this time——

With the thought half finished in his swiftly-working brain came thethud and shock of his explosion—a tangible movement in the bulk ofrock—and then the cataclysm.

Almost as one with Elaine's small detonation, the mighty jar, theair-confounding concussion, the smothered boom, and the dizzying tremorthat swayed the hill, shook down the girl's bewildered senses. She sawthe red leap from the cannon's mouth—and saw three men, surprised toinaction on the deadly angle of the trail—then down she went, her mindconvinced she had rended the island asunder.

Sounds of colossal destruction stormed through the air for a time thatseemed to have no end. The roar of a cataract of broken stone,confusedly toppling from estates erected by the ages, was lost in atumult of other sounds where the headland seemed to fill the sea.

Dust of the rock and smoke of the rock ascended with fumes of thepowder. Tidal disturbances splashed and seethed where the sea, havingsplit to receive those tons of chaos, surged back with augmentedviolence at this displacement of its waters.

The cave had been blotted from existence! Its walls and its ceilinghad crashed from their several places. to leave only an ugly scar.Whole towers of rocks, cleaved from the hill's main mass in suddenviolence, had hung in disordered ruin against the quaking air for asecond, then rioted downward on the Dyak boat to plunge it, rent andshivered, to the bottom.

Not a man of that murderous group below had survived the climax of thatsecond. The place that had once been a treasure tomb, with a wailing"spirit" at its portals, was at last a very tomb indeed; but nevermorewould its tidal wail arise on the air to render the cavern sacred.

Like a veritable spirit of underground destruction, Grenville emergedfrom the passage, unaware of all he had done. His thought was only ofElaine. He called, as he climbed to the terrace, but no glad littlecry made response.

Then, abruptly, he saw her prostrate figure on the rocks—and beyondher two men, with one limberly inert, limping blindly down the trail.To dart to his store, snatch the last of his bombs, and pursue thesethree who had threatened Elaine was the first wild impulse of hisbeing. Just one such blow, to follow up his victory, and perhaps theyshould need no more!

But he ran instead to the helpless figure near the cannon. He knewwhat she had done. He took her up swiftly, calling on her name, andcarried her back to the former cave, where a rosy light from the risensun made it seem like a haven of promise.

CHAPTER XLIV

A LOTUS BLOSSOM

It was still very early in the morning when Grenville finallydiscovered, afar out northward on the sea, two Dyak boats makingswiftly away from the island.

He feared for a moment, when the sails were first discerned, they werenew craft about to arrive. He could not have known that his mines sunkthe third of the boats formerly at anchor in the inlet, and was in noway enabled to determine how many of the enemy had perished at the cave.

It was almost too much to credit, this apparent retreat of the fiendsso bent upon his capture. He made no positive report to Elaine of thefact he felt he must verify, lest he find himself obliged to retract itlater.

She had quickly responded to his ministrations, having fainted as muchfrom lack of food and rest as from shock in that final moment.Concerning the final effect of her shot, she was destined never toknow. Grenville was far too wise to let her believe she had taken thelife even of a fiend in human semblance.

He told her the Dyaks had fled from the place, which flight he hadpersonally witnessed. He was certain, moreover, they would hardlyreturn again that day, if they did not quit the island. Assured of thesafety of the adventure, he descended to the jungle and returned withan armful of fruit. He proceeded later to the spring for a freshsupply of water.

Estimating the final fighting force of the Dyaks at ten, and concedingthat five, at the least, must have perished at the cave, since one ortwo must have guarded the boats while three were searching the chamber,he concluded that no more than four at the most could still remainuninjured.

He had gone to the edge of the ruin, above the obliterated cave, and,having discovered no boat either near or far, had arrived at a fairlyaccurate conjecture respecting the fate of the craft the Dyaks hademployed. One more calculation, respecting the number of able seamenrequired to navigate the retreating vessels, convinced him the islandwas deserted to the uses of Elaine and himself.

It was not, however, till that afternoon that he cautiously exploredtheir former possessions and confirmed the hope in his breast. Therewas ample evidence about the spring, and in the jungle, of the methodsof living the Dyaks had employed, but neither at the western inlet,back of the central hill of rock, nor at the friendly estuary, wasanything boatlike to be found. His catamaran had vanished, along withthe larger craft, and its fate he could readily surmise.

He lost no time in arranging a number of his snares and traps for themeat of which they were in need. Their camp was made as before on theterrace proper, despite the heat of the sun.

It was not until many of these essential comforts had been once moreestablished that Sidney explored the gallery to determine whatdestruction had been wrought by his double mine.

Everything stored in the lower depths had been hopelessly buried by therock. The passage was open for no more than half its former length.His bamboo raft was among the possessions sacrificed to the ruse thathad finally succeeded beyond even his wildest dreams. Not ten feetback of his basket-load of treasure the last of the caving had beenhalted.

When Elaine's robe and couch, their water-jugs, and his last remainingbomb had been once more returned to the earlier camp, practicallynothing but the gold and precious stones remained in the gallery.Elaine was aware the trinkets were lying there on view, but so vast washer relief at the vanishment of danger—though it might be temporarilyonly—she had no desire for gauds and baubles, and no particularcuriosity respecting their worth or appearance.

Indeed, these two had endured too much to dwell upon jewels and gold.They were free from menace for a time, but—the future still loomedbefore them, inimical and obscure. Their life in this tropic exile wasstill to be faced, day after day.

That morning and long sweet afternoon, however, they passed in restfulinactivity, possessed by ineffable thankfulness and a sense of reliefthat was utterly relaxing to their racked and exhausted nerves. Itseemed a strange, impossible state, this peacefulness, security, andfreedom to move about once more, alone in their Shalimar. AndGrenville knew it was far too good to last.

Yet for several days it seemed as if the propitiating Fates made everypossible endeavor to erase from the tablets of their memory all recordsof the agonies and apprehensions they had recently undergone.

They were wonderful days, for sheer inspiriting beauty. A cool, spicybreeze was wafted, with the sunshine, across the smiling ocean. Thejungle was redolent of fragrances of intoxicating sweetness. Down onthe beach her leafy bower once more found Elaine idly resting in herhammock, or busily preparing a tempting repast from the once moregenerous larder.

The girdle of gold she continued to wear in happiness that stoleunbidden to her heart—a happiness as subtle and welcome as theperfumes that stole to her senses on the breeze. And when she finallyfound and plucked a solitary lotus blossom, floating near the estuary'sedge, it seemed as if the ecstasy possessing all her nature must bringabout some miracle of untold joy and bliss.

Grenville was hardly less transported by the hourly pleasures that dayand night alike seemed bearing to this island world, like argosies fromEden. Subconsciously, beneath it all, he knew the boats that hadsailed away would one day return, perhaps with more of their species,and better prepared for a swift and merciless revenge. Yet even thenhe was slow to employ his wits and energies to prepare for anothersiege, his disinclination for more revolting ordeals casting a lethargyon all his fighting attributes, while days like these, voluptuouslyserene and toxicant, suggested vast contentment to his spirit.

Indeed, his spirit as well as his body needed rest. To this he wasconstantly urged by Elaine, who understood, far better than himself,how unsparingly he had drained the vital essences of his being throughall these uncounted weeks.

She, too, was aware they were only secure for a moment, that untolddangers must be lurking just beyond the rim of their purple horizon.She had finally learned from Sidney's lips how the vessels had sailedaway. She had, however, seen this sign of security previouslyfail—and felt it would fail again.

The future her soul avoided. Darkness and tragedy were only tooreadily imagined. At best it was all uncertain, rife with shadows,peopled with ghosts of doubt and haunting dreads. Meantime, their owngreen Shalimar was once more fresh with sunny smiles that enticed herspirit to song.

She sang to herself through many hours of joyous "household" duties.The songs she chose were happy little fragments wherein she imaginedGrenville set, with herself always traipsing at his side. She sang hersongs to and of him, watching him shyly when he was near, and sendingher thoughts to seek him out when he hunted or wandered in the jungle.

It was not until one of those incomparable mornings, with the tropicgreenery fresh as a breath over clover, that he finally heard the notesshe had prisoned in her bosom break forth in clear, sweet utterance, ascrystal bright as the sun.

He paused in the screen of ferns and palms to partake of her wild,sweet rapture. And how lightly and gladly she sang!

"Come out, come out, my dearest dear,
Come out and greet the sun!
The birds awake on tree and brake,
The merry May's begun!

"Come out and drink the diamond dew,
Come out and tread the lea!
The world is all awake, and you
Are all the world to me!"

All that was starved in his nature stirred in response to the song.His blood leaped faster, its glow like that of rich andsense-delighting wine. A vivid memory of the one lawless kiss he haddared to snatch from Elaine's red lips inflamed a sweet desire.

He had called her his sweetheart, called her his mate, for the frenzyof joy, the ecstasy, her nature had wrought upon his own. He feltto-day his claim had been proved, by their life alone with God. Theyhad worked and fought and planned the days away together, like a matedpair fresh created and cast to an Eden of the sea. They belonged toone another.

Love had come at last to Elaine—a love to match the strength andpurpose of his own—a love overwhelming, natural, unabashed—was theirrightful heritage. Its holiness gave it sanction; its rightness madeit as pure as fire that makes hard metal molten.

He started slowly towards the hill whereon Elaine was busied. Hehalted, however, hidden from view by a new banana foliage, wondrouslyunrolling. Another song was floating on the air.

"Pale hands I loved, upon the Shalimar,
Where are you now? Who lies beneath thy spell?
Whom do you lead on rapture's roadway jar
Before you agonize them, in farewell?

"Pale hands I loved, upon the Shalimar,
Where are you now? Where are you now?"

The mad intoxication of his senses rocked him strangely, there in thethicket. He saw the gleam of the jeweled girdle that spanned Elaine'slithe figure, as she moved about on the brink of the terrace above.Once again his heart struck mightily against its walls, as it had thefirst day she had worn this gold, by way of a maid's confession.

He knew at last her Shalimar was a wild little garden of love, to besacredly shared between them. Excited to trembling he started again tojoin her at the cavern. Before he could come to the foot of the trailshe suddenly ran to the terrace-edge, looking down like a vision ofdespair.

"Sidney!" she cried, "another Dyak boat! I've just this minute seenthe sail!"

Ready to curse the merciless Fates, as well as his own recent laziness,which had made calamity possible, Grenville ran swiftly up the mendedtrail and followed Elaine to the tree.

The sail was certainly plain enough to see, far out in the purplewaters. It was, to all appearances, bearing directly down upon theisland. But, as Grenville watched, it altered shape. His face showeda sign of relaxing.

"I don't believe it's a Dyak craft," he told her, hoarsely. "It lookslike—— I think it's a yacht."

CHAPTER XLV

THE LAST BOMB

It certainly was a modern yacht that the two of them saw, strainingtheir eyes to identify the stranger roving afar in their waters.

A trick of the sun, or perhaps her paint, had concealed both masts andfunnel for a time, presenting only a rakish angle of her prow andquarter, incredibly like a sail of the shape the Dyaks employ.

But, if eager excitement surged uninterruptedly through the pulses ofthe two ragged exiles, there on the barren headland, the bitterness ofvain disappointments promptly began their inroads to its centers. Theyacht was not only in great apparent haste, but was heading far off tothe eastward, with not the slightest curiosity respecting the tinyisland of whom no one could give a good report.

The flagpole was gone—and a new one had been neglected. There was notime now to erect another, as Grenville realized. He stood with Elaineon the brink of the rock, frantically waving his arms and cap, and evena large banana leaf, while the slender distant visitor came abreastthem and continued straight ahead.

"They've got to see! They've got to!" he cried, in the desperateplight of mind begotten by this promise thus mercilessly snatched away.

Suddenly abandoning all other possible devices, he ran to his powder"magazine," where the last of the bombs was stored. He came with ithugged against his breast, in thoughtless and dangerous proximity tothe firebrand clutched in his fist.

"Run back!" he said. "I haven't time to make it thoroughly safe!"

But Elaine remained to see him lower it down on the broken rocks, wherethe cave had formerly existed. She waited, indeed, till he lighted thefuse and drew her away towards the shelter.

His eyes were on the distant yacht, fast fading once more from theirvision. The bomb must have failed. The fuse was deficient, he wassure. He started back to recover the thing and make it certain ofexplosion.

Then it burst, and flung shattered fragments along all the face of thewall.

Grenville was watching the distant yacht with fixed, almost frenzied,expression.

"They haven't heard!" he groaned, despairingly. "They're going fasterthan before!"

It certainly seemed as if the hurried stranger would no more halt thanwould a fiery meteor overdue at some cosmic appointment.

Then of a sudden, from its bow, broke a pure-white cloud of smoke. Shehad answered with the small brass piece employed to fire a salute. Herprow was turned before the sound came dully across the waters. Sobbingand laughing together, in sudden relief, Elaine sank down on her knees,among the bowlders, to watch this deliverance come.

CHAPTER XLVI

A GIFT REFUSED

The yacht was the "Petrel," luxurious hobby of Sir Myles Kemp, divertedfrom her homeward course by the merest whim of her owner to run upnorthward for a day while Sir Myles should inspect the rubberplantation and estate of his old fellow-officer, Captain Williams, whowas not even present at the place.

The inspection was never made. The utter amazement occasioned by thechance discovery of the exiles of Three-Hill Island, plus their storyof its fateful occupation, completely overshadowed all else in theminds of the "Petrel's" commander and crew, whose one idea was toassist the castaways home with the greatest speed of which steel andsteam were capable. The picture the pair presented as they cameaboard—Elaine amazingly tattered, a supple, tanned, incredibly sweetand womanly little figure—Grenville, a bearded, active master of thewild, clad in the skin of a cheeta for a coat, and bearing a richlycolored tiger-skin, rolled up to contain a hundredweight oftreasure—was one that Sir Myles was destined never to forget. He waslikewise always destined to misunderstand the emotions with which, asthey steamed away at last, Elaine looked back, with tears in her eyes,at the unpeopled Isle of Shalimar, so green in its purple setting,presenting its headland to the sea with that lone tree reared above itssummit.

Grenville, too, had seen her eyes—and he more nearly comprehended.

By great good-fortune much of Lady Kemp's wardrobe had been left aboardthe yacht. She and Elaine must have been of a size, to judge from themanner in which her yachting apparel and her dainty boudoir adjustedthemselves to the form of the girl whom Sir Myles began forthwith totreat as he might a daughter.

The "Petrel" was put about and headed for Colombo—the nearest port atwhich an Orient steamer would be likely to be encountered. It was notuntil after dinner had been served and his guests had been made asthoroughly comfortable as warm-hearted hospitality, admiration for thetwo of them, and exceptional thoughtfulness could compass that SirMyles related the accepted fate of the "Inca," from the wreck of whichthey escaped.

The news had gone forth that she foundered, and not a soul was saved.A few insignificant pieces of wreckage had been found afloat, far fromthe unknown ledge of rock the earthquake had lifted in the sea, but noone till now had heard so much as a theory as to what had been her fate.

That some such intelligence must have been sent to the worried andwaiting relatives and friends beyond the seas, both Grenville andElaine had long before comprehended, despite the preoccupationengrossing their minds all these many age-long weeks. But now, when atlength they were homeward bound, the facts presented an aspect whichthere had been no occasion to prepare against while struggling forexistence on the island.

There was one thought only in their minds. It was Fenton, and what hemight have done when that news had expended its shock. And what wouldbe the outcome of the story, now that the home-coming journey wasresumed—now that he, Sidney Grenville, could at last complete anddischarge his original commission?

He faced the business hardly more calmly than did Elaine. No argumentpossible to him now, respecting the warning Fenton had received,availed to allay and satisfy his haunting sense of honor. The man hadmatured on Shalimar, and his soul had been refined.

But what strange days those were that now succeeded! How they robbedhim of his happiness, as they brought him nearer home! His spiritssank and would not rise, the nearer Colombo was approached. He toldhimself then, once he could wire, acquaint Gerald Fenton with the factthey were safe, and would soon be with him, he would come to some peaceof mind.

But, when at length the wire was sent, he experienced no such relief.Relief, indeed, had failed to come when for three days and nights theOrient boat had been plowing across the Indian Ocean, rushing headlongfrom the tropic heat to the distant ports beyond.

He thought, perhaps, if he informed Elaine, the business would besettled. He attempted that day to introduce the subject, but in vain.Elaine was so sparklingly happy! He postponed the ordeal for the night.

The moon had returned to the skies again, bringing to the wanderersineffable memories of other nights, when peace lay tranquilly fragranton the world of their Shalimar. He detected its subtle influence onthe ever-vivacious little woman who had shared his perils and his joys.

Elaine was softly thrilling to the spell of it all as she halted besidehim, finally, on a strip of the deck abandoned to their uses. She feltthat the atmosphere was overcharged, and wondered what might beimpending. To still the pounding of her heart she leaned on thetaffrail, ecstatically in touch with Grenville's arm. She spoke of thewonder of the night.

"Yes," drawled Grenville, in his old dry way, "great facilities herefor manufacturing nights—— I wired Gerald from Colombo."

For a moment Elaine was puzzled by this wholly irrelevant remark. Thenher heart began to rock uneasily.

"You—wired we were coming home?"

"Wired I was fetching you home, after unavoidable delay."

She recognized the difference between the way that she and he hadexpressed the principal fact. She felt herself, as it were, alreadysurrendered to a man grown singularly foreign to her nature. It seemedto her incredible that Sidney and she should ever again be parted, orwork out their several destinies in any manner savetogether—especially after all he had said and even done.

"Was that—all you said?" she asked him, faintly.

"No. I said I'd be best man—or something of the sort."

Elaine felt something leaden go down to the point of her heart.

"You wanted him to know that you had no idea—— You wanted Gerald tounderstand——" She could not finish her sentence. Her face was hotlyflaming, but at least she could turn it away.

Grenville's voice was hard and strange.

"It was barely his right to know that we were coming. I could do noless, as you'll certainly agree."

His speeches were constrained, unnatural, as Elaine had instantly felt.Her own were scarcely less embarrassed—after all these months whentheir entire world had comprised themselves alone. It seemed amonstrous error that anything but free, unfettered companionship andcandor should exist between them now.

"I know," she said. "Of course." She added, after a moment, "It seemsso peculiar, that's all—to—resume as we were before."

He was looking at his fist, for no good reason in the world.

"It is what you have hoped for every day."

"To get away from the Dyaks—why, of course."

Another silence supervened. After three unsuccessful efforts atspeech, Elaine at last found the voice and the courage for a question:

"Do you wish to be—best man?"

Grenville spread out his fingers, for further inspection.

"I probably shouldn't have suggested it otherwise."

She turned upon him impulsively. "Sidney, are you absolutely honest?"

"Oh, I wouldn't trouble old Diogenes to get out of his grave and lookme up," he answered, in his customary spirit, "but I've got a faintidea what honor means."

How well she knew his various manners of evasion! Her heart waspounding furiously. She leaned with all her weight against the rail,as if for fear he must hear its clamorous confessions.

She had never been so excited in her life—or more courageous.Likewise she felt she possessed certain God-given rights that werepoised at the brink of disaster. For a love like hers comes neverlightly and is not to be lightly dismissed. Her utterance wasdifficult, but mastered.

"One night—in the smoke—on the island—when we might have died ofthirst—and you came with water—— You remember what you said?"

"Concerning what?"

"Concerning—love."

He was gripping a stanchion fiercely; his fingers were white with thestrain.

"Vaguely—— I think I was exhausted."

"Oh! you're not—you're not honest at all!" she suddenly exploded."That day of the wreck—on the steamer—you know what you said to methen! And any man who has acted so nobly, so thoughtfully——"

He turned and gripped the small, soft hand by his coat-sleeve on therail.

"Don't do it, little woman—don't do it!" he said, in a low voice,charged with passion. "You told me some stinging truths that day, andnow—they're truer than ever!"

"I didn't!" she said, no longer master of her feelings. "I didn't tellthe truth! I said I hated—said I loathed—— And you said I'dthrow his ring in the sea—and you said you'd make me—likeyou—some—and you know that I couldn't help liking you now—whenyou've treated me so horribly all the time! And after everything we'vedone together——"

"Elaine!" he interrupted, hoarsely, "when did you throw away his ring?"

"After the tiger—the night I gave you the cap, and you acted sohatefully and mean! It bounced and went into the water."

He was white, and tremendously shaken, while gleams of incandescenceburned deeply in his eyes. How he stayed the lawless impulse to takeher to his arms he never knew. He dropped her hand and turned away,with a savage note of pain upon his lips.

"Good Heavens!" he said, "why don't you help me a little? I had noright then! I have no right now! ... I'm going to take you home toFenton, if it's the very last act of my life!"

She, too, was white and trembling.

"I know what you mean—you never loved! You don't know the meaningof the word!"

"All right," he said. "We'll let it go at that."

"Oh, you're perfectly horrid!" she suddenly cried, the hot tearsspringing to her eyes. "I refuse to be taken back to Gerald! I refuseto have anything more to do with any selfish man in the world!"

She retreated a little towards the saloon, her two hands going swiftlyto a gleaming band that all but spanned her waist.

"And there's your old girdle, with Gerald's ring, that you made methrow away!" she added, flinging the tiger's collar towards the sea.

It struck on a stanchion, bounded to the deck, and settled against anear-by chair. She waited a second, instantly ashamed, and longing tobeg his forgiveness. But he leaned as before against the rail, hiseyes still bent upon the water.

Weakly, with drooping spirits, Elaine retreated through an open door,still watching, in hopes he would turn and call her back. Then,stoutly suppressing her choking and pent emotions, she fled to thedismal comfort of her stateroom, and, falling face downward in hernarrow berth, surrendered to the vast relief of sobbing.

CHAPTER XLVII

A FRIEND IN NEED

That one more shock of surprise could overtake the returning castawaysbefore the final landing could be accomplished would have seemedincredible to either Grenville or Elaine—and yet it came.

They had spent a number of wretched days—days far more miserable andhope-destroying than any their dire experience had brought into being,as the mere result of that final scene enacted in the moonlight by therail.

The steamer had touched in the night at some unimportant, outlying portof call to which no one had paid the tribute of interest usual on thesea. A single male passenger had boarded.

The man was Gerald Fenton. The message dispatched from Colombo hadfetched him, post haste, to this midway ground for the meeting. Butthe meeting occurred in a manner wholly unexpected.

Like the wholly considerate gentleman he was, Fenton had made allpreparations for removing the startling elements from the fact of hispresence on the boat. Like so many of life's little schemings,however, the plans went all "aglee."

Elaine not only did not linger in her stateroom in the morning lateenough to receive his note from the stewardess, but, when she hastenedup to the topmost deck for her early morning exercise before the morelazy should appear, she literally ran into Fenton's arms at the head ofthe narrow stairs.

Her surprise could hardly have been greater. She recoiled from thecontact automatically, before she had time to see who it was with whomshe had collided. Then a note of astonishment broke from her lips asshe halted, leadenly.

"Why—Gerald!" she managed to stammer, without the slightest hint ofgladness in her tone. "Here?"

"Well, little girl!" he answered, smilingly; and, coming to her in hisquiet way, he took her hands to greet her with a kiss.

A note of uncertainty forced itself to audible expression as sheslightly retreated from his proffered caress and received it on hercheek.

"Well! well!" Fenton continued, "you're certainly fit—and brown! Youcouldn't have had the note I sent to break the news. I tried to giveyou warning."

"No," she said, constrainedly, "I've had no word. How did you gethere—come aboard? I don't see how—— It took me so by surprise."

"I'm sorry," he said, his smile losing something of its brightness. "Iboarded at midnight, when the steamer touched at Fargo. When I gotSid's wholly incredible wire that you were both safe and well andcoming home—— But how is the good old rascal?"

Elaine's constraint increased.

"Quite well, I believe—as far as I know."

"Isn't he with you, here on the boat, going home?"

"Oh, yes, he's on the steamer."

Fenton was groping, without a woman's intuitions, through the somethinghe felt in the air.

"Don't you like him, Elaine?" he asked her, bluntly. "What's wrong?"

"Why—nothing's wrong," she answered, unconvincingly. "It's just thesurprise of meeting you like this."

"I'm sorry," he said, as he had before, his eyes now entirelysmileless. "I might have managed it better, I suppose—— Aren't youa little bit glad to see me?"

Elaine attempted a smile and a manner more cordial. "Of course—I'mdelighted! But it takes me just a minute or so to realize it's reallyyou."

"Never mind. Take your time," he told her, indulgently. "Perfectmiracle, you know, that you and old Sid should have come through thewreck of the 'Inca'—the sole survivors of the accident—and lived outthere—somewhere—on an island, I hear—and now be nearing home. I'meager to hear the story."

"Yes," she agreed, "it doesn't seem real to me, now. It's more like along, strange dream."

"I have only heard a little from the captain," he continued, forcing aconversation which he felt was wholly unspontaneous and hardly evencongenial.

"Naturally, all his information——"

She saw his eyes quickly brighten as his gaze went past her to thestairs.

"Sid!" he cried, moving swiftly forward; and Grenville appeared on thedeck.

His face was suddenly reddened, beneath the veneer of tan. But theboyish joy with which he rushed for Fenton was a heartening thing tosee.

The two simply gripped, with might and main, and hammered each otherwith one free hand apiece, and laughed, and called one anotherastonishing names till it seemed they might explode.

"You savage! You tough old Redskin!" Fenton finally managed toarticulate, distinctly. "If it isn't yourself as big as life! And Iwant you to know I haven't made your fortune—not exactly—yet—butit's certain at last. And how about your winning my little girl?Speak up, you caveman of the—— Oh, Elaine!"

But Elaine had fled the scene.

That moment began the tug at the ties of friendship and the test of thesouls of the three. It was not a time of happiness that thereuponensued. Elaine avoided both the men as far as possible. Grenvillealone seemed natural, and yet even his smiles were tinged with theartificial.

He was glad to relate their varied adventures—the tale of the perilsthrough which they had finally won. But how much of it all GeraldFenton really heard no man could with certainty tell.

Fenton was neither a self-conceited person nor a blind man, gropingthrough life. Through the stem of his finely colored calabash hepuffed many a thought, along with his fragrant tobacco fume, andrevolved it in his brain.

Between certain lines of Grenville's story he read deep happenings.That Sidney had saved and preserved Elaine, and battled for her comfortand her very life, against all but overwhelming odds, was a fact thatrequired no rehearsal.

Mere propinquity, as Fenton knew, has always been the match-makerincomparable, throughout the habited world. Add to the quiteexceptional propinquity of a tropic-island existence a splendid andunfaltering heroism in Grenville, together with a mastery of everysituation, months of daily service and devotion, and the rare goodlooks that Sidney had certainly developed—and what wonder Elaineshould be changed?

The change in her bearing had struck him at once at the moment of theirmeeting by the stairs. He had never got past that since. When atlength his course was clearly defined and his resolution firmly fixed,it still required skillful maneuvering on Fenton's part to manage theone little climax on which he finally determined.

But night, with her shadows, her softening moods, and her veiling waysof comfort, was an ally worthy of his trust. When he finallyengineered the unsuspicious Grenville to the upper deck, where Elainehad already been enticed, evasion of the issue was done.

"It's amazing," said Fenton, in a pleasant, easy manner, "how I ambecoming the talker of the crowd, when both you fond adventurers shouldbe spilling out lectures by the mile. However, such is life." Hepaused for a moment, but the others did not speak.

"The genuine wonder of it all," he presently continued, "is seeing youboth come back thus, safe and sound. I underwent my bit of grief whenthe news of the monstrous disaster finally arrived, as, of course, didmany another. I thought I had lost the dearest friend and the—well,the dearest two friends—the dearest two beings in the world to me, inone huge cataclysm."

He paused once more and relighted his pipe. The flame of his matchthrew a rosy glow on the two set faces on either side of his position,as well as on his own. No one looked at anyone else, and the two stillfailed to answer.

"Well—here you both are!" the smoker resumed, crushing the match andthrowing it away. "If I were to lose your love and friendship now——But never mind that—I sha'n't! You were dead to me, both of you, allthose months, and mourned rather poignantly. That's the point I wantyou both to understand—that I had accepted the fact of losing youboth, forever."

Grenville slightly stirred, but did not speak. Elaine was clasping herhands in her lap and locking her fingers till they ached.

"Naturally," Fenton told them, quietly, "I conformed my thoughts toyour demise, at last, as we all must do in actual cases. I adjusted myheart-strings, when I could, anew. Nobody else came into my life, tooccupy your places, for nobody could. Yet I did adjust things as I'vesaid. Well—now that brings us up to the point."

Grenville sank back against his seat, but restlessly leaned forward asbefore. Elaine alone remained absolutely motionless, rigid withattention, if not also with suppressed excitement at something she feltimpending. Fenton thumbed at the glowing tobacco in his pipe.

"It appears to me," he continued, "all the circ*mstances I havementioned being taken into consideration, that you two friends that Ilove so well have so many times saved one another's lives that no oneliving has the slightest right to think or to act as might have beenthe case if you had not passed so entirely from his ken, and his plans,and daily existence. His claims to your resurrected selvesare—different, let us say, or secondary."

The silence that fell for a moment became acutely painful.

"That's all I'm really driving at, after all my long and laboredpreamble," Fenton concluded, deliberately rising and facing about toconfront the pair on the bench. "I recognize certain inevitablethings—and I know they're right—and the way the Almighty intended....Don't let me lose my friends again.... Let's all be sensible.... Idon't ask or expect to be loved the way you love one another—but I'dlike to be old Gerald to you both."

He turned and went slowly down the narrow stairs, and his pipe traileda spark behind him.

*****

After a time, when Grenville moved over and placed his arm aboutElaine, she struggled for a moment, feebly.

"I don't—I don't love you in the least!" she protested. "I hateyou—as I always have—and the way I always shall!"

Her arms went swiftly about his neck, however, in a passionate, fiercelittle hug. She was laughing and crying together.

"All right," said Grenville, calmly. "That's the kind of hate I want."

He kissed her once on her upturned lips for every hour they hadsuffered.

THE END