But the pig of flesh, Cookie reminded me, was a heavy lumbering
creature. This Shape was silent as a moonbeam. There was also
about it a dreadful appearance of stealth and secrecy--Cookie's
eyes bulged at the recollection. Nothing living but a witch's cat
could have disappeared from Cookie's vision as did the ghostly pig.

For a moment I wavered in my determination. What if the island had
its wild creatures after all? But neither lynx nor panther nor any
other beast of prey is white, except a polar bear, and it would be
unusual to meet one on a tropical island.

I decided that Cookie's pig was after all a pig, though still in
the flesh. I thought I remembered having seen quite fair pigs,
which would pass for white with a frightened negro in the dim light
of dawn. So far only black pigs had been visible, but perhaps the
light ones were shyer and kept to the remote parts of the island.
I consoled Cookie as best I could by promising to cross my fingers
if I heard or saw anything suspicious, and struck out into the
woods,

For all my brave words to Cookie, I had no intention of going very
far afield. From the shore of the cove I had observed that the
ground behind the clearing rose to the summit of a low ridge,
perhaps four hundred feet in height, which jutted from the base of
the peak. From this ridge I thought I might see something more of
the island than the limited environment of Lantern Bay.

As the woods shut out the last glimpse of the white tents in the
clearing, as even the familiar sound of the surf died down to a
faint, half-imagined whisper mingling with the rustling of the
palms overhead, I experienced a certain discomfort, which persons
given to harsh and unqualified terms might have called fear. It
seemed to me as if a very strong cord at the rear of my belt were
jerking me back toward the inglorious safety of camp. Fortunately
there came to me a vision of the three umbrellas and of Mr. Tubbs
heroically exposing his devoted bosom to non-existent perils, and I
resolved that the superior smiles with which I had greeted Aunt
Jane's recital should not rise up to shame me now. I fingered my
automatic and marched on up the hill, trying not to gasp when a
leaf rustled or a cocoanut dropped in the woods.

There was little undergrowth between the crowding trunks of the
cocoa-palms. Far overhead their fronds mingled in a green thatch,
through which a soft light filtered down. Here and there the cl