the gloom, shouting as it
came. Not until it was thirty yards away did an intelligible sound
explain at least who the apparition was.

"Gassharamminy! Give me that gun!"

Coutlass burst in among us so out of breath that he could not force
through his teeth another rational syllable, but he made his intentions
partly clear by snatching at Fred's rifle, persisting until Will and I
pulled him off.

"The dhow's gone!" he panted at last. "Give me that rifle, or come
yourself! Hurry! There's a wind! You'll be too late!"

"You're dreaming or drunk!" Fred answered, but Coutlass refused to be
disbelieved, and in another moment we were all running as fast as we
dared through the darkness toward the camp-fires, where we had left the
Goanese snoozing and the dhow snugly moored among the rocks.

The chief and his followers far outdistanced us in spite of their
gorged condition--all except the woman, who jogged dutifully, although
unhappily, behind Fred. When we reached the campfires they were
standing gazing out on the lake, where we could just make out the
bellying sail of the Queen of Sheba leaning like a phantom away from
the gaining wind. The distance was not to be judged in that weak
uncertain light. We all shouted together, but there came no answer and
we could not tell whether the sound carried as far as the dhow or not.

"Gassharamminy!--why don't you shoot!" shouted Coutlass, dancing up and
down the bank in frenzy. "Give me that rifle! I'll show you! I'll
teach them!"

I believe I would have fired if the rifle had been in my hands. Brown,
last to arrive and most out of breath, joined with Coutlass in angry
shouts for vengeance. Will offered no argument against sending them a
parting shot. Fred set the butt of the rifle down with a determined
snort, walked over toward the fire, stirred the embers, threw on more
fuel, and looked about him when the dry wood blazed.

"If she has left as much as one blanket among the lot of us, I don't
see it anywhere!" he said, taking his seat on a rock.

"A blanket?" sneered Coutlass. "She has even your money! Worse than
that--she has my woman! You were a gum-gasted galoot not to shoot at
her!"

Fred patted the bulging pocket of his shooting jacket.

"Most of the money is here," he said quietly, and we all sighed with
relief.

"Take canoes and chase them!" shouted Coutlass, beginning to dance up
and down again.

"There's time enough" Fred answered. "We know