old
man's eyes strangely; there was the bay with that fantastic "finger of
the devil" stretching up from the bowels of the world. Behind the symbol
lay the Thing what was it?

Long time he looked out upon the gulf, then his eyes drew into the bay
and stayed there, seeing mechanically, as a hundred fancies went through
his mind. There were reefs of which the old man had spoken. He could
guess from the colour and movement of the water where they were. The
finger of the devil--was it not real? A finger of rock, waiting as the
old man said--for what?

Gaspard touched his shoulder. He rose and went with him into the gloomy
cabin. They ate and drank in silence. When the meal was finished they
sat smoking till night fell. Then the pilot lit a fire, and drew his
rough chair to the door. Though it was only late summer, it was cold
in the shade of the cliff. Long time they sat. Now and again Pierre
intercepted the quick, elusive glance of his silent host. Once the pilot
took the pipe from his mouth, and leaned his hands on his knees as if
about to speak. But he did not.

Pierre saw that the time was ripe for speech. So he said, as though he
knew something: "It is a long time since it happened?"

Gaspard, brooding, answered: "Yes, a long time--too long." Then, as if
suddenly awakened to the strangeness of the question, he added, in a
startled way: "What do you know? Tell me quick what you know."

"I know nothing except what comes to me here, pilot,"--Pierre touched
his forehead, "but there is a thing--I am not sure what. There was a
woman--perhaps a child; there is something on the shore; there is a
hidden point of rock in the bay; and you are waiting for a ship--for the
ship, and it does not come--isn't that so?"

Gaspard got to his feet, and peered into Pierre's immobile face. Their
eyes met.

"Mon Dieu!" said the pilot, his hand catching the smoke away from
between them, "you are a droll man; you have a wonderful mind. You are
cold like ice, and still there is in you a look of fire."

"Sit down," answered Pierre quietly, "and tell me all. Perhaps I could
think it out little by little; but it might take too long--and what is
the good?"

Slowly Gaspard obeyed. Both hands rested on his knees, and he stared
abstractedly into the fire. Pierre thrust forward the tobacco-bag.
His hand lifted, took the tobacco, and then his eyes came keenly to
Pierre's. He was about to speak.... "Fill your pipe first," said the
half-breed