and made a wick by unraveling a
few strands of wool from his jersey. When night fell, with the
suddenness of the tropics, Iris was able to illuminate her small
domain.

They were both utterly tired and ready to drop with fatigue. The girl
said "Good night," but instantly reappeared from behind the tarpaulin.

"Am I to keep the lamp alight?" she inquired.

"Please yourself, Miss Deane. Better not, perhaps. It will only burn
four or five hours, any way."

Soon the light vanished, and he lay down, his pipe between his teeth,
close to the cave's entrance. Weary though he was, he could not sleep
forthwith. His mind was occupied with the signs on the canister head.

"32 divided by 1; an 'X' and a dot," he repeated several times. "What
do they signify?"

Suddenly he sat up, with every sense alert, and grabbed his revolver.
Something impelled him to look towards the spot, a few feet away, where
the skeleton was hidden. It was the rustling of a bird among the trees
that had caught his ear.

He thought of the white framework of a once powerful man, lying there
among the bushes, abandoned, forgotten, horrific. Then he smothered a
cry of surprise.

"By Jove!" he muttered. "There is no 'X' and dot. That sign is meant
for a skull and cross-bones. It lies exactly on the part of the island
where we saw that queer-looking bald patch today. First thing tomorrow,
before the girl awakes, I must examine that place."

He resolutely stretched himself on his share of the spread-out coats,
now thoroughly dried by sun and fire. In a minute he was sound asleep.

CHAPTER V

IRIS TO THE RESCUE

"Before mine eyes in opposition sits
Grim death."
--_Milton_.

He awoke to find the sun high in the heavens. Iris was preparing
breakfast; a fine fire was crackling cheerfully, and the presiding
goddess had so altered her appearance that the sailor surveyed her with
astonishment.

He noiselessly assumed a sitting posture, tucked his feet beneath him,
and blinked. The girl's face was not visible from where he sat, and for
a few seconds he thought he must surely be dreaming. She was attired in
a neat navy-blue dress and smart blouse. Her white canvas shoes were
replaced by strong leather boots. She was quite spick and span, this
island Hebe.

So soundly had he slept that his senses returned but slowly. At last he
guessed what had happened. She had risen with the dawn, and, conquering
her natura