othing define. He was seen of both: the Adventurer came boldly
to his side, and Philip dare not bide aloof. They peered, and he would
not.

For an intolerable moment he forbore them, gripping the tiller hard.

'There is it!' said the old man. 'What say you is the creature? Your mate
has named it--your familiar,' and he laughed.

Even then Christian forbore still, though the stress of long hours of
repressed passion culminated in a weight of frantic anger and loathing,
cruel to bear.

Then Philip lied, denying his words, and Christian knew that he lied; his
crafty wits disturbed by wine, reverse, and fear, he blundered,
protesting overmuch.

Said the Adventurer grimly: 'Now my offer holds good for silver or gold;
be you man enough to back your words, you who would give me the lie?'

Without tackle men take fish by flamelight, spearing; and thus fell the
wording of Philip's menace, as, reeling between fear and resentment on
either hand, he cried wildly:

'I care not--though, by heavens! a famous take may come of it. We have
but to try fire.'

Christian gripped him, very death in his face and in his strength; swayed
him from his feet; gripped the harder for his struggles, till the ribs
of the poor wretch gave, and cracked within his arms; with a great heave
had him shoulder high; with another could have flung him overboard. And
did not.

On the finest verge of overpoise he held, swung round with a slackening
hold, and dropped him like a cast bale to the bottom of the boat. Then he
caught the tiller and clung to it with the strength of a drowning man.

Philip lay groaning, broken and wrung in body and mind. He realised a
dreadful truth: for one brief second he had seen in Christian's eyes
fierce, eager hatred; clear, reasonable, for informed by most
comprehensive memory; mad he was, but out of no deficiency; mad, with
never a blank of mind to disallow vengeance; as cunning and as strong he
was as ever madness could make a man; unmasked, a human devil.

The Adventurer lifted him and felt his bones, himself half stunned and
bleeding, for he had been flung heavily from unpractised balance, as
suddenly the boat lurched and careened in the wallop of the sea.

The menace of an extreme peril closed their difference, compelling
fellowship. They counselled and agreed together with a grasp and a nod
and few words. Philip fumbled for his knife, unclasped, and showed it.
'Our lives or his. Have you?' 'Better,' returned th