a dull low splashing, and at every splash the
liquid fire seemed to fly.

The double line of fire lengthened and sparkled, till it was as so much
greenish golden foam reaching more and more toward where the drowning
pair were struggling.

Then came a low, growling, grinding sound, as if the long lines of light
were made by the beating fins of the dark object, which was some
habitant of the deep roused from slumbers by the light of the golden
foam formed by those who drowned.

And it rushed on and on to seize its prey, invisible before, but now
plainly seen by the struggles and the resulting phosphorescent light.

Long, low, and with its head raised high out of the water, horrent,
grotesque and strange, the great sea monster glided along over the
smooth sea. Full five-and-twenty fins aside made the water flash as it
came on, and there was, as it were, a thin new-moon-like curve of light
at its breast, while from its tail the sparkling phosphorescence spread
widely as it was left behind.

The low grumbling sound came again, but it was not heard by those
drowning, nor was the light seen as it glided on nearer and nearer, till
it reached the spot.

One dart from the long raised neck, one snap of the fierce jaws--another
dart and another snap, and the sea monster had its prey, and glided
rapidly on, probably in search of more in its nightly hunt.

Nothing of the kind! The long creature endued with life darted on, but
the long neck and horned head were not darted down, but guided past
those who where drowning. Everything was stiff and rigid but the
playing fins. But there was another dull, low grunt, the fins seemed to
cease by magic; and, instead of being snapped up by the monster's mouth,
the two sufferers were drawn in over its side.

Then the water flashed golden again, the monster made a curve and rushed
through the water, and sped away for miles till, in obedience to another
grunting sound, it turned and dashed straight for a sandy beach,
resolving itself into a long New Zealand war canoe, into which Don and
Jem had been drawn, to lie half insensible till the beach was neared
when Jem slowly and wonderingly sat up.

"Where's Mas' Don?" he said in a sharp ill-used tone.

"Here he is," said a gruff voice, and Jem looked wonderingly in a
savage's indistinctly seen face, and then down in the bottom of the long
canoe, into which they had been dragged.

"Mas' Don--don't say you're drowned, Mas' Don," he said