ched the end of her last voyage. He wore the uniform of
those dreadful beings whom she had seen on the island.

She shrieked; Hozier fancied she had sprained an ankle; but before she
could utter any sort of explanation the apparition in uniform was by
her side, and murmuring words that were evidently meant to be
reassuring. Seeing that he was not understood, he broke into halting
French.

"Courage, madame!" he said. "Il faut monter--encore un peu--et
donc--vous etes arrive . . . Ca y est! Voila! Comptez sur moi.
Juste ciel, mais c'est affreux l'escalier."

But he worked while he poured out this medley, and Iris was standing on
level ground ere he made an end. He was a handsome youngster,
evidently an officer, and his eyes dwelt on the girl's face with no
lack of animation as he led her into a cave which seemed to have been
excavated from the inner side of a small crater.

"You can rest here in absolute safety, madame," he said. "Permit me to
arrange a seat. Then I shall bring you some wine."

Iris flung off the hand which held her arm so persuasively.

"Please do not attend to me. There are wounded men who need attention
far more than I," she said, speaking in English, since it never entered
her mind that the Portuguese officer had been addressing her in French.

He was puzzled more by her action than her words, but Hozier, who had
followed close behind, explained in sentences built on the
Ollendorffian plan that mademoiselle was disturbed, mademoiselle
required rest, mademoiselle hardly understood that which had arrived,
_et voila tout_.

The other man smiled comprehension, though he scanned Hozier with a
quick underlook.

"Is monsieur the captain?" he asked.

"No, monsieur the captain comes now. Here he is."

"Mademoiselle, without doubt, is the daughter of monsieur the captain?"

"No," said Hozier, rather curtly, turning to ascertain how Iris had
disposed of herself in the interior of the cavern. It was his first
experience of a South American dandy's pose towards women, or, to be
exact, toward women who are young and pretty, and it seemed to him not
the least marvelous event of an hour crammed with marvels that any man
should endeavor to begin an active flirtation under such circumstances.

He saw that Iris was seated on a camp stool. Her face was buried in
her hands. A wealth of brown hair was tumbled over her neck and
shoulders; the constant showers of spray had loosened her tresses, a