ty.

The splash of a fish jumping broke the spell.

"I wish we had the canoe now," remarked Joan; "we could paddle out to
the other islands."

"Of course," I said; "wait here and I'll go across for it," and was
turning to feel my way back through the darkness when she stopped me in
a voice that meant what it said.

"No; Mr. Sangree will get it. We will wait here and cooee to guide him."

The Canadian was off in a moment, for she had only to hint of her wishes
and he obeyed.

"Keep out from shore in case of rocks," I cried out as he went, "and
turn to the right out of the lagoon. That's the shortest way round by
the map."

My voice travelled across the still waters and woke echoes in the
distant islands that came back to us like people calling out of space.
It was only thirty or forty yards over the ridge and down the other side
to the lagoon where the boats lay, but it was a good mile to coast round
the shore in the dark to where we stood and waited. We heard him
stumbling away among the boulders, and then the sounds suddenly ceased
as he topped the ridge and went down past the fire on the other side.

"I didn't want to be left alone with him," the girl said presently in a
low voice. "I'm always afraid he's going to say or do something--" She
hesitated a moment, looking quickly over her shoulder towards the ridge
where he had just disappeared--"something that might lead to
unpleasantness."

She stopped abruptly.

"_You_ frightened, Joan!" I exclaimed, with genuine surprise. "This is a
new light on your wicked character. I thought the human being who could
frighten you did not exist." Then I suddenly realised she was talking
seriously--looking to me for help of some kind--and at once I dropped
the teasing attitude.

"He's very far gone, I think, Joan," I added gravely. "You must be kind
to him, whatever else you may feel. He's exceedingly fond of you."

"I know, but I can't help it," she whispered, lest her voice should
carry in the stillness; "there's something about him that--that makes me
feel creepy and half afraid."

"But, poor man, it's not his fault if he is delicate and sometimes looks
like death," I laughed gently, by way of defending what I felt to be a
very innocent member of my sex.

"Oh, but it's not that I mean," she answered quickly; "it's something I
feel about him, something in his soul, something he hardly knows
himself, but that may come out if we are much together. It draws me, I
fe