and lonely. She had always mocked the memory of his mother. Brown and
lovely his cousin's face rose before him in a willful moment of
tenderness--and then from the shadows came again the flash of topaz and
Venetian lamps and the lovely face of Keela.

Something in Carl's haunted brain snapped. With a groan of horror and
suffering, he pitched forward upon the ground, breathing Philip
Poynter's name like an invocation against the things of evil crowding
horribly about him.

It was Dick Sherrill who at last found him.

"Nick!" he called in horror to one of the guides. "For God's sake
bring some brandy! No! he's had too much of that already. Water!
Water--can't somebody hurry!"

"Leave him to me, Mr. Sherrill!" said Nick with quiet authority. And
bending over the motionless figure under the oak, he gently loosened
the flannel shirt from the throat, laid a wet cloth upon the forehead
and fell to rubbing the rigid limbs.

Presently, with a long, shuddering sigh, Carl opened his eyes, stared
at the scared circle of faces about him and instantly tried to rise.

"Don't, don't, Carl," exploded Dick Sherrill solicitously. "Lie still,
man! I was afraid something would get you."

Carl fell back indifferently.

Presently with a slight smile he sat up again.

"I'm all right now, Dick," he insisted. "It's nothing at all. I've
had something like it once before. Don't mention it to my aunt. She'd
likely fuss."

Dick readily promised.

"Nevertheless," he insisted, "we're going to break camp in the morning.
This infernal bog's got on my nerves. There are more creepy, oozy
things in that cypress swamp over there than a man can afford to meet
in the dark. To the devil with your wild turkeys, Nick! Quail and
duck are good enough for me."

The camp wagons drove back to Palm Beach in the morning. Carl was very
quiet and evaded Sherrill's anxious eyes. He seemed to be brooding
morosely over some inner problem which frequently furrowed his forehead
and made him very restless.

"Cheer up!" exclaimed Dick reassuringly. "You'll feel better when you
get a shower and some other clothes. As for me, I'm going to hunt
field mice and ground doves from now on. Lord, Carl, I'll never forget
that beastly swamp. Did I tell you that last night, after all our
discomfort, I got nothing but a smelly buzzard? Ugh!" Dick's hunting
interest was steadily on the wane. He finally came down to birds and
humble bees, though whe