ain
earlier in the day, when there appeared before him beyond a projecting
point which he had but just rounded the flickering light from a ship's
lantern.

Alexander Paulvitch could scarce restrain an exclamation of triumph.
The Kincaid had not departed! Life and vengeance were not to elude him
after all.

He stopped paddling the moment that he descried the gleaming beacon of
hope ahead of him. Silently he drifted down the muddy waters of the
Ugambi, occasionally dipping his paddle's blade gently into the current
that he might guide his primitive craft to the vessel's side.

As he approached more closely the dark bulk of a ship loomed before him
out of the blackness of the night. No sound came from the vessel's
deck. Paulvitch drifted, unseen, close to the Kincaid's side. Only
the momentary scraping of his canoe's nose against the ship's planking
broke the silence of the night.

Trembling with nervous excitement, the Russian remained motionless for
several minutes; but there was no sound from the great bulk above him
to indicate that his coming had been noted.

Stealthily he worked his craft forward until the stays of the bowsprit
were directly above him. He could just reach them. To make his canoe
fast there was the work of but a minute or two, and then the man raised
himself quietly aloft.

A moment later he dropped softly to the deck. Thoughts of the hideous
pack which tenanted the ship induced cold tremors along the spine of
the cowardly prowler; but life itself depended upon the success of his
venture, and so he was enabled to steel himself to the frightful
chances which lay before him.

No sound or sign of watch appeared upon the ship's deck. Paulvitch
crept stealthily toward the forecastle. All was silence. The hatch
was raised, and as the man peered downward he saw one of the Kincaid's
crew reading by the light of the smoky lantern depending from the
ceiling of the crew's quarters.

Paulvitch knew the man well, a surly cut-throat upon whom he figured
strongly in the carrying out of the plan which he had conceived.
Gently the Russ lowered himself through the aperture to the rounds of
the ladder which led into the forecastle.

He kept his eyes turned upon the reading man, ready to warn him to
silence the moment that the fellow discovered him; but so deeply
immersed was the sailor in the magazine that the Russian came,
unobserved, to the forecastle floor.

There he turned and whispered