own, who, I perceived,
was already on the peninsula, bounding along with a recklessness that
would have made him shudder at any other time. I attempted to utter a
warning cry, but the effort was a failure, and just as I reached the
bridge I saw that my worst fears were realized, for my friend caught his
feet in the long, dried grass, lost his balance, and fell heavily.

I quickly gained the spot, and saw, to my horror, that my companion had
fallen upon the soft, black mud which extended for many acres on each
side of the island, and that he was slowly sinking, in spite of his
frantic efforts to reach the bridge, which was about six feet from his
outstretched arms.

"Save me!" he cried, in despairing accents, and just then the moon, as
though in mockery of his request, shone out brighter than ever.

He made an almost superhuman effort to sustain himself, and keep from
sinking, but I saw, with horror, that he was settling slowly and surely,
and that all his struggles only hastened his end.

"Can you do nothing for me?" he shrieked. "For God's sake, don't let me
die such a horrid death as this. Try and save me."

I thought of a dozen different ways to assist him, but none of them were
practicable, and I was obliged to conjure up others.

"Can you reach my hand?" I asked, stretching it towards him, first
taking the precaution of twisting my left hand in a clump of dried
grass, so that I, too, should not be dragged into the bog.

The poor fellow made a frantic effort to do so, but he could not reach
within six inches.

"Lean a little more towards me," he shrieked, but I did not dare to, for
I should have shared his fate, and both of us would have smothered, and
our friends would never have learned our fate.

My companion uttered a groan, and for a moment was silent. During the
brief period, I heard, with awful distinctness, the sound of the
pickaxe, as it was struck against the rocks upon the island, worked, I
had no doubt, by supernatural hands.

CHAPTER LXVIII.

THE ISLAND GHOST.--NARROW ESCAPE OF MR. BROWN.

I would sooner have faced the most savage gang of bushrangers in
Australia than that fearful sound, yet I was so anxious to save my
friend that, frightened as I really was, I did not run, or even make a
motion to that effect. The drowning man, with face upturned, and eyes
that watched my every motion, at length heard the dull, heavy blows of
the pick, and he seemed to comprehend that they were