posal of the Priest. The second shock of earthquake had naturally
increased the alarm of the chief. He had sent messages to the Priest,
entreating him to leave the island, and other messages to Aimata
suggesting that she should exert her influence over her father, if he
hesitated. The Priest refused to leave the Temple. He trusted in his
gods and his sacrifices--he believed they might avert the fatality that
threatened his sanctuary.

Yielding to the holy man, the chief sent re-enforcements of canoes to
take their turn at keeping watch off the headland. Assisted by torches,
the islanders were on the alert (in superstitious terror of the demon of
the prophecy) by night as well as by day. The Captain had no alternative
but to keep in hiding, and to watch his opportunity of approaching the
place in which he had concealed his canoe. It was only after Aimata had
left him as usual, to return to her father at the close of evening, that
the chances declared themselves in his favor. The fire-flashes from the
mountain, visible when the night came, had struck terror into the hearts
of the men on the watch. They thought of their wives, their children,
and their possessions on the main island, and they one and all deserted
their Priest. The Captain seized the opportunity of communicating with
the ship, and of exchanging a frail canoe which he was ill able to
manage, for a swift-sailing boat capable of keeping the sea in the event
of stormy weather.

As he now neared the land, certain small sparks of red, moving on the
distant water, informed him that the canoes of the sentinels had been
ordered back to their duty.

Carefully avoiding the lights, he reached his own side of the island
without accident, and, guided by the boat's lantern, anchored under the
cliff. He climbed the rocks, advanced to the door of the hut, and was
met, to his delight and astonishment, by Aimata on the threshold.

"I dreamed that some dreadful misfortune had parted us forever," she
said; "and I came here to see if my dream was true. You have taught me
what it is to be miserable; I never felt my heart ache till I looked
into the hut and found that you had gone. Now I have seen you, I am
satisfied. No! you must not go back with me. My father may be out
looking for me. It is you that are in danger, not I. I know the forest
as well by dark as by daylight."

The Captain detained her when she tried to leave him.

"Now you _are_ here," he said, "why should I n