t over his shoulder, and again the siren
flung a warning to the foot of the mountain range.

It was evident that the wonderful eyesight of the Indians practically
equalled the range of the telescope. The men in the canoes were aware
of the lifeboat's disappearance, and their wet paddles flashed in the
sun as they tore across the three miles of open water which separated
the southern promontory from the inner shore of the island. After a
phenomenal spell of fine weather in that storm-swept latitude, the
atmosphere was transparent and bright as that of Stornoway on a clear
day in December. The rays of the sun were reflected from many a blue
glacier and ice-covered slope. Even the green of the higher belt of
firs was dazzling in its emerald luster, and the copper-hued beeches
beneath shone in patches of burnished gold. Elsie was sick at heart
with the knowledge that red-eyed murder was stalking its prey under the
resplendent mantle spread by nature over a scene of rare beauty. In an
agony of apprehension she followed the progress of the canoes.
Creeping nearer Boyle, she whispered:

"For Heaven's sake, say the life-boat is visible again!"

He held up a hand to enforce silence. A deep hush fell on the ship.

"Listen!" he muttered, so low that Elsie alone caught the words. "Can
you hear firing?"

She thought she could distinguish an irregular patter of dull reports,
and the behavior of the Indians showed that additional excitement was
toward. Many of them stood up and waved their arms, possibly as a
signal to their allies on shore. The canoes raced madly. Where speed
was vital the rough-hewn native craft were far swifter than the
solidly-built lifeboat, with its broad beam and deep draft.

And that was all. Though they strained their eyes and spoke with bated
breath, never a sight of boat or canoes was obtainable for hours after
the latter were swallowed up by the trees which shrouded the creek at
the foot of Guanaco Hill.

Isobel Baring, moved by genuine pity for her distraught friend, tried
to induce her to leave the deck. But she shrank away, terrified by the
fire which blazed from the blue eyes resting on her for an instant.
Mrs. Somerville came, but she, too, was repulsed. Elsie spoke no word.
She hardly moved. She clung to the rail, and gazed at the deepening
shadows with the frozen stare of abiding horror. All things around her
were unreal, fantastic; she dwelt in a world peopled by her own
ter