sing and sputtering over
the fire. His mind was full of Nidia's dream. But was it a dream?
That shape, brushing past him in the darkness--the hollow, demoniacal
laugh? Had the being, whatever it was, actually entered the cave,
passing him seated there on guard? Was it a dream, indeed, or was it
the actual face which she had seen? The latter seemed far more like it.
Then he remembered that even if such were the case, it was too dark for
features to be distinguishable. He was fairly puzzled. And by way of
finding some solution to the mystery he went down to the spot which
Nidia pointed out to him as the scene of the first apparition, and
examined the ground long and carefully. There was not a trace of a
human footmark--not a stone displaced. He felt more puzzled than ever.

But not to Nidia was he going to impart his misgivings. With a change
of camping-place she would forget this rather unpleasant mystery, if
only it did not take to following them, that is--and indeed they would
be fortunate if they met with no more material cause for alarm.

"On the whole it's rather lucky we struck old Shiminya's place," he
remarked, as they were seated at their primitive breakfast. "Blankets,
matches, everything we have--and that's not much--we owe to him, even
the rifle and cartridges. When I cleared from Sikumbutana, with nothing
on earth but a pipe, a sword-bayonet, and a bunch of keys, I felt pretty
helpless, I can tell you. What must you have felt, when you first found
yourself adrift?"

"It was awful. That night--shall I ever forget it? And how strange we
should have met like that. The very next day I was going to send over
to let you know I was at the Hollingworths'. I only heard from Mr
Moseley that you were so near. Would you have come to see me?"

"Have you forgotten that last long day of ours, down by the sea, that
you can ask such a question?" he said gravely, his full, straight glance
meeting hers. Nidia was conscious of ever so slight a flush stealing
over her face. "How ingenious you are," intently examining one of the
wooden forks which he had roughly carved for her as they went along.
"You must let me keep these as a memento of this wandering of ours."

"How many are there?" he answered. "Three--may not I keep one of them?
I want a memento, too."

"Am I getting irremediably freckled and tanned?" she said. "And
tattered? Yet one would be in absolute rags, but for that
thorn-and-fibre needle