g and
switching his reel's gear, he cast. The lead swung far out across the
water and fell on the farther side of the channel.

"But that's dazzling!" she exclaimed; "as though you had shot it out
of a gun."

He tightened the line, and sat with the rod resting in a leather
socket fastened to his belt.

"Now," she stated, "we will watch at the vain sacrifice of an only
mullet."

The day was superb, the sky sparkled like a great blue sun; schools of
young mangrove snappers swept through the pellucid water. The woman
said:

"Where did you come from and where are you going?"

"Cape Cod," he replied; "and I am going to the Guianas."

"Isn't that South America?" she queried. "I've traveled far--on maps.
Guiana," she repeated the name softly. For a moment the faint dread in
her voice changed to longing. "I think I know all the beautiful names
of places on the earth," she continued: "Tarragona and Seriphos and
Cambodia."

"Some of them you have seen?"

"None," she answered simply. "I was born here, in the house you know,
and I have never been fifty miles away."

This, he told himself, was incredible. The mystery that surrounded her
deepened, stirring more strongly his impersonal curiosity.

"You are surprised," she added; "it's mad, but true. There--there is a
reason." She stopped abruptly, and, neglecting her fishing rod, sat
with her hands clasped about slim knees. She gazed at him slowly, and
he was impressed once more by the remarkable quality of her eyes,
grey-green like olive leaves and strangely young. The momentary
interest created in her by romantic and far names faded, gave place to
the familiar trace of fear. In the long past he would have responded
immediately to the appeal of her pale, magnetic countenance.... He had
broken all connection with society, with----

There was a sudden, impressive jerk at his line, the rod instantly
assumed the shape of a bent bow, and, as he rose, the reel spindle was
lost in a grey blur and the line streaked out through the dipping tip.
His companion hung breathless at his shoulder.

"He'll take all your line," she lamented as the fish continued his
straight, outward course, while Woolfolk kept an even pressure on the
rod.

"A hundred yards," he announced as he felt a threaded mark wheel
from under his thumb. Then: "A hundred and fifty. I'm afraid it's a
shark." As he spoke the fish leaped clear of the water, a spot of
molten silver, and fell back in a sparkling bl