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 +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Inconsistent hyphenation matches the original document. | | | | A number of obvious typographical errors have been corrected | | in this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of | | this document. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+

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[Illustration: SHE STARTED TOWARD THE DOOR]

IN SEARCH OF THEUNKNOWN

BYROBERT W. CHAMBERS

AUTHOR OF "THE MAIDS OF PARADISE" "THE MAID-AT-ARMS""CARDIGAN" "THE CONSPIRATORS" ETC. 

NEW YORK AND LONDONHARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS1904

Copyright, 1904, by ROBERT W. CHAMBERS. 

_All rights reserved. _Published June, 1904. 

 TO MY FRIEND E. LE GRAND BEERS

 MY DEAR LE GRAND, --You and I were early drawn together by a common love of nature. Your researches into the natural history of the tree-toad, your observations upon the mud-turtles of Providence Township, your experiments with the fresh-water lobster, all stimulated my enthusiasm in a scientific direction, which has crystallized in this helpful little book, dedicated to you. 

 Pray accept it as an insignificant payment on account for all I owe to you. 

 THE AUTHOR. 

PREFACE

It appears to the writer that there is urgent need of more "naturebooks"--books that are scraped clear of fiction and which display onlythe carefully articulated skeleton of fact. Hence this little volume, presented with some hesitation and more modesty. Various chaptershave, at intervals, appeared in the pages of various publications. Thecontinued narrative is now published for the first time; and thewriter trusts that it may inspire enthusiasm for natural andscientific research, and inculcate a passion for accurate observationamong the young. 

 THE AUTHOR. 

 _April 1, 1904. _

 Where the slanting forest eaves, Shingled tight with greenest leaves, Sweep the scented meadow-sedge, Let us snoop along the edge; Let us pry in hidden nooks, Laden with our nature books, Scaring birds with happy cries, Chloroforming butterflies, Rooting up each woodland plant, Pinning beetle, fly, and ant, So we may identify What we've ruined, by-and-by. 

IN SEARCH OF THE UNKNOWN

I

Because it all seems so improbable--so horribly impossible to me now, sitting here safe and sane in my own library--I hesitate to record anepisode which already appears to me less horrible than grotesque. Yet, unless this story is written now, I know I shall never have thecourage to tell the truth about the matter--not from fear of ridicule, but because I myself shall soon cease to credit what I now know to betrue. Yet scarcely a month has elapsed since I heard the stealthypurring of what I believed to be the shoaling undertow--scarcely amonth ago, with my own eyes, I saw that which, even now, I ambeginning to believe never existed. As for the harbor-master--and theblow I am now striking at the old order of things--But of that I shallnot speak now, or later; I shall try to tell the story simply andtruthfully, and let my friends testify as to my probity and thepublishers of this book corroborate them. 

On the 29th of February I resigned my position under the governmentand left Washington to accept an offer from Professor Farrago--whosename he kindly permits me to use--and on the first day of April Ientered upon my new and congenial duties as general superintendent ofthe water-fowl department connected with the Zoological Gardens thenin course of erection at Bronx Park, New York. 

For a week I followed the routine, examining the new foundations, studying the architect's plans, following the surveyors through theBronx thickets, suggesting arrangements for water-courses and poolsdestined to be included in the enclosures for swans, geese, pelicans, herons, and such of the waders and swimmers as we might expect toacclimate in Bronx Park. 

It was at that time the policy of the trustees and officers of theZoological Gardens neither to employ collectors nor to send outexpeditions in search of specimens. The society decided to depend uponvoluntary contributions, and I was always busy, part of the day, indictating answers to correspondents who wrote offering their servicesas hunters of big game, collectors of all sorts of fauna, trappers, snarers, and also to those who offered specimens for sale, usually atexorbitant rates. 

To the proprietors of five-legged kittens, mangy lynxes, moth-eatencoyotes, and dancing bears I returned courteous but uncompromisingrefusals--of course, first submitting all such letters, together withmy replies, to Professor Farrago. 

One day towards the end of May, however, just as I was leaving BronxPark to return to town, Professor Lesard, of the reptilian department, called out to me that Professor Farrago wanted to see me a moment; soI put my pipe into my pocket again and retraced my steps to thetemporary, wooden building occupied by Professor Farrago, generalsuperintendent of the Zoological Gardens. The professor, who wassitting at his desk before a pile of letters and replies submitted forapproval by me, pushed his glasses down and looked over them at mewith a whimsical smile that suggested amusement, impatience, annoyance, and perhaps a faint trace of apology. 

"Now, here's a letter, " he said, with a deliberate gesture towards asheet of paper impaled on a file--"a letter that I suppose youremember. " He disengaged the sheet of paper and handed it to me. 

"Oh yes, " I replied, with a shrug; "of course the man ismistaken--or--"

"Or what?" demanded Professor Farrago, tranquilly, wiping his glasses. 

"--Or a liar, " I replied. 

After a silence he leaned back in his chair and bade me read theletter to him again, and I did so with a contemptuous tolerance forthe writer, who must have been either a very innocent victim or a verystupid swindler. I said as much to Professor Farrago, but, to mysurprise, he appeared to waver. 

"I suppose, " he said, with his near-sighted, embarrassed smile, "thatnine hundred and ninety-nine men in a thousand would throw that letteraside and condemn the writer as a liar or a fool?"

"In my opinion, " said I, "he's one or the other. "

"He isn't--in mine, " said the professor, placidly. 

"What!" I exclaimed. "Here is a man living all alone on a strip ofrock and sand between the wilderness and the sea, who wants you tosend somebody to take charge of a bird that doesn't exist!"

"How do you know, " asked Professor Farrago, "that the bird in questiondoes not exist?"

"It is generally accepted, " I replied, sarcastically, "that the greatauk has been extinct for years. Therefore I may be pardoned fordoubting that our correspondent possesses a pair of them alive. "

"Oh, you young fellows, " said the professor, smiling wearily, "youembark on a theory for destinations that don't exist. "

He leaned back in his chair, his amused eyes searching space for theimagery that made him smile. 

"Like swimming squirrels, you navigate with the help of Heaven and astiff breeze, but you never land where you hope to--do you?"

Rather red in the face, I said: "Don't you believe the great auk to beextinct?"

"Audubon saw the great auk. "

"Who has seen a single specimen since?"

"Nobody--except our correspondent here, " he replied, laughing. 

I laughed, too, considering the interview at an end, but the professorwent on, coolly:

"Whatever it is that our correspondent has--and I am daring to believethat it _is_ the great auk itself--I want you to secure it for thesociety. "

When my astonishment subsided my first conscious sentiment was one ofpity. Clearly, Professor Farrago was on the verge of dotage--ah, whata loss to the world!

I believe now that Professor Farrago perfectly interpreted mythoughts, but he betrayed neither resentment nor impatience. I drew achair up beside his desk--there was nothing to do but to obey, andthis fool's errand was none of my conceiving. 

Together we made out a list of articles necessary for me and itemizedthe expenses I might incur, and I set a date for my return, allowingno margin for a successful termination to the expedition. 

"Never mind that, " said the professor. "What I want you to do is toget those birds here safely. Now, how many men will you take?"

"None, " I replied, bluntly; "it's a useless expense, unless there issomething to bring back. If there is I'll wire you, you may be sure. "

"Very well, " said Professor Farrago, good-humoredly, "you shall haveall the assistance you may require. Can you leave to-night?"

The old gentleman was certainly prompt. I nodded, half-sulkily, awareof his amusement. 

"So, " I said, picking up my hat, "I am to start north to find a placecalled Black Harbor, where there is a man named Halyard who possesses, among other household utensils, two extinct great auks--"

We were both laughing by this time. I asked him why on earth hecredited the assertion of a man he had never before heard of. 

"I suppose, " he replied, with the same half-apologetic, half-humoroussmile, "it is instinct. I feel, somehow, that this man Halyard _has_got an auk--perhaps two. I can't get away from the idea that we are onthe eve of acquiring the rarest of living creatures. It's odd for ascientist to talk as I do; doubtless you're shocked--admit it, now!"

But I was not shocked; on the contrary, I was conscious that the samestrange hope that Professor Farrago cherished was beginning, in spiteof me, to stir my pulses, too. 

"If he has--" I began, then stopped. 

The professor and I looked hard at each other in silence. 

"Go on, " he said, encouragingly. 

But I had nothing more to say, for the prospect of beholding with myown eyes a living specimen of the great auk produced a series ofconflicting emotions within me which rendered speech profanelysuperfluous. 

As I took my leave Professor Farrago came to the door of thetemporary, wooden office and handed me the letter written by the manHalyard. I folded it and put it into my pocket, as Halyard mightrequire it for my own identification. 

"How much does he want for the pair?" I asked. 

"Ten thousand dollars. Don't demur--if the birds are really--"

"I know, " I said, hastily, not daring to hope too much. 

"One thing more, " said Professor Farrago, gravely; "you know, in thatlast paragraph of his letter, Halyard speaks of something else in theway of specimens--an undiscovered species of amphibious biped--justread that paragraph again, will you?"

I drew the letter from my pocket and read as he directed:

 "When you have seen the two living specimens of the great auk, and have satisfied yourself that I tell the truth, you may be wise enough to listen without prejudice to a statement I shall make concerning the existence of the strangest creature ever fashioned. I will merely say, at this time, that the creature referred to is an amphibious biped and inhabits the ocean near this coast. More I cannot say, for I personally have not seen the animal, but I have a witness who has, and there are many who affirm that they have seen the creature. You will naturally say that my statement amounts to nothing; but when your representative arrives, if he be free from prejudice, I expect his reports to you concerning this sea-biped will confirm the solemn statements of a witness I _know_ to be unimpeachable. 

 "Yours truly, BURTON HALYARD. 

 "BLACK HARBOR. "

"Well, " I said, after a moment's thought, "here goes for thewild-goose chase. "

"Wild auk, you mean, " said Professor Farrago, shaking hands with me. "You will start to-night, won't you?"

"Yes, but Heaven knows how I'm ever going to land in this manHalyard's door-yard. Good-bye!"

"About that sea-biped--" began Professor Farrago, shyly. 

"Oh, don't!" I said; "I can swallow the auks, feathers and claws, butif this fellow Halyard is hinting he's seen an amphibious creatureresembling a man--"

"--Or a woman, " said the professor, cautiously. 

I retired, disgusted, my faith shaken in the mental vigor of ProfessorFarrago. 

II

The three days' voyage by boat and rail was irksome. I bought my kitat Sainte Croix, on the Central Pacific Railroad, and on June 1st Ibegan the last stage of my journey _via_ the Sainte Isole broad-gauge, arriving in the wilderness by daylight. A tedious forced march byblazed trail, freshly spotted on the wrong side, of course, brought meto the northern terminus of the rusty, narrow-gauge lumber railwaywhich runs from the heart of the hushed pine wilderness to the sea. 

Already a long train of battered flat-cars, piled with sluice-propsand roughly hewn sleepers, was moving slowly off into the broodingforest gloom, when I came in sight of the track; but I developed agratifying and unexpected burst of speed, shouting all the while. Thetrain stopped; I swung myself aboard the last car, where a pleasantyoung fellow was sitting on the rear brake, chewing spruce and readinga letter. 

"Come aboard, sir, " he said, looking up with a smile; "I guess you'rethe man in a hurry. "

"I'm looking for a man named Halyard, " I said, dropping rifle andknapsack on the fresh-cut, fragrant pile of pine. "Are you Halyard?"

"No, I'm Francis Lee, bossing the mica pit at Port-of-Waves, " hereplied, "but this letter is from Halyard, asking me to look out for aman in a hurry from Bronx Park, New York. "

"I'm that man, " said I, filling my pipe and offering him a share ofthe weed of peace, and we sat side by side smoking very amiably, untila signal from the locomotive sent him forward and I was left alone, lounging at ease, head pillowed on both arms, watching the blue skyflying through the branches overhead. 

Long before we came in sight of the ocean I smelled it; the fresh, salt aroma stole into my senses, drowsy with the heated odor of pineand hemlock, and I sat up, peering ahead into the dusky sea of pines. 

Fresher and fresher came the wind from the sea, in puffs, in mild, sweet breezes, in steady, freshening currents, blowing the featherycrowns of the pines, setting the balsam's blue tufts rocking. 

Lee wandered back over the long line of flats, balancing himselfnonchalantly as the cars swung around a sharp curve, where waterdripped from a newly propped sluice that suddenly emerged from thedepths of the forest to run parallel to the railroad track. 

"Built it this spring, " he said, surveying his handiwork, which seemedto undulate as the cars swept past. "It runs to the cove--or oughtto--" He stopped abruptly with a thoughtful glance at me. 

"So you're going over to Halyard's?" he continued, as though answeringa question asked by himself. 

I nodded. 

"You've never been there--of course?"

"No, " I said, "and I'm not likely to go again. "

I would have told him why I was going if I had not already begun tofeel ashamed of my idiotic errand. 

"I guess you're going to look at those birds of his, " continued Lee, placidly. 

"I guess I am, " I said, sulkily, glancing askance to see whether hewas smiling. 

But he only asked me, quite seriously, whether a great auk was reallya very rare bird; and I told him that the last one ever seen had beenfound dead off Labrador in January, 1870. Then I asked him whetherthese birds of Halyard's were really great auks, and he replied, somewhat indifferently, that he supposed they were--at least, nobodyhad ever before seen such birds near Port-of-Waves. 

"There's something else, " he said, running, a pine-sliver through hispipe-stem--"something that interests us all here more than auks, bigor little. I suppose I might as well speak of it, as you are bound tohear about it sooner or later. "

He hesitated, and I could see that he was embarrassed, searching forthe exact words to convey his meaning. 

"If, " said I, "you have anything in this region more important toscience than the great auk, I should be very glad to know about it. "

Perhaps there was the faintest tinge of sarcasm in my voice, for heshot a sharp glance at me and then turned slightly. After a moment, however, he put his pipe into his pocket, laid hold of the brake withboth hands, vaulted to his perch aloft, and glanced down at me. 

"Did you ever hear of the harbor-master?" he asked, maliciously. 

"Which harbor-master?" I inquired. 

"You'll know before long, " he observed, with a satisfied glance intoperspective. 

This rather extraordinary observation puzzled me. I waited for him toresume, and, as he did not, I asked him what he meant. 

"If I knew, " he said, "I'd tell you. But, come to think of it, I'd bea fool to go into details with a scientific man. You'll hear about theharbor-master--perhaps you will see the harbor-master. In that event Ishould be glad to converse with you on the subject. "

I could not help laughing at his prim and precise manner, and, after amoment, he also laughed, saying:

"It hurts a man's vanity to know he knows a thing that somebody elseknows he doesn't know. I'm damned if I say another word about theharbor-master until you've been to Halyard's!"

"A harbor-master, " I persisted, "is an official who superintends themooring of ships--isn't he?"

But he refused to be tempted into conversation, and we loungedsilently on the lumber until a long, thin whistle from the locomotiveand a rush of stinging salt-wind brought us to our feet. Through thetrees I could see the bluish-black ocean, stretching out beyond blackheadlands to meet the clouds; a great wind was roaring among the treesas the train slowly came to a stand-still on the edge of the primevalforest. 

Lee jumped to the ground and aided me with my rifle and pack, and thenthe train began to back away along a curved side-track which, Leesaid, led to the mica-pit and company stores. 

"Now what will you do?" he asked, pleasantly. "I can give you a gooddinner and a decent bed to-night if you like--and I'm sure Mrs. Leewould be very glad to have you stop with us as long as you choose. "

I thanked him, but said that I was anxious to reach Halyard's beforedark, and he very kindly led me along the cliffs and pointed out thepath. 

"This man Halyard, " he said, "is an invalid. He lives at a cove calledBlack Harbor, and all his truck goes through to him over the company'sroad. We receive it here, and send a pack-mule through once a month. I've met him; he's a bad-tempered hypochondriac, a cynic at heart, anda man whose word is never doubted. If he says he has a great auk, youmay be satisfied he has. "

My heart was beating with excitement at the prospect; I looked outacross the wooded headlands and tangled stretches of dune and hollow, trying to realize what it might mean to me, to Professor Farrago, tothe world, if I should lead back to New York a live auk. 

"He's a crank, " said Lee; "frankly, I don't like him. If you find itunpleasant there, come back to us. "

"Does Halyard live alone?" I asked. 

"Yes--except for a professional trained nurse--poor thing!"

"A man?"

"No, " said Lee, disgustedly. 

Presently he gave me a peculiar glance; hesitated, and finally said:"Ask Halyard to tell you about his nurse and--the harbor-master. Good-bye--I'm due at the quarry. Come and stay with us whenever youcare to; you will find a welcome at Port-of-Waves. "

We shook hands and parted on the cliff, he turning back into theforest along the railway, I starting northward, pack slung, rifle overmy shoulder. Once I met a group of quarrymen, faces burned brick-red, scarred hands swinging as they walked. And, as I passed them with anod, turning, I saw that they also had turned to look after me, and Icaught a word or two of their conversation, whirled back to me on thesea-wind. 

They were speaking of the harbor-master. 

III

Towards sunset I came out on a sheer granite cliff where the sea-birdswere whirling and clamoring, and the great breakers dashed, rolling indouble-thundered reverberations on the sun-dyed, crimson sands belowthe rock. 

Across the half-moon of beach towered another cliff, and, behind this, I saw a column of smoke rising in the still air. It certainly camefrom Halyard's chimney, although the opposite cliff prevented me fromseeing the house itself. 

I rested a moment to refill my pipe, then resumed rifle and pack, andcautiously started to skirt the cliffs. I had descended half-waytowards the beech, and was examining the cliff opposite, whensomething on the very top of the rock arrested my attention--a mandarkly outlined against the sky. The next moment, however, I knew itcould not be a man, for the object suddenly glided over the face ofthe cliff and slid down the sheer, smooth lace like a lizard. Before Icould get a square look at it, the thing crawled into the surf--or, atleast, it seemed to--but the whole episode occurred so suddenly, sounexpectedly, that I was not sure I had seen anything at all. 

However, I was curious enough to climb the cliff on the land side andmake my way towards the spot where I imagined I saw the man. Ofcourse, there was nothing there--not a trace of a human being, I mean. Something _had_ been there--a sea-otter, possibly--for the remains ofa freshly killed fish lay on the rock, eaten to the back-bone andtail. 

The next moment, below me, I saw the house, a freshly painted, trim, flimsy structure, modern, and very much out of harmony with thesplendid savagery surrounding it. It struck a nasty, cheap note in thenoble, gray monotony of headland and sea. 

The descent was easy enough. I crossed the crescent beach, hard aspink marble, and found a little trodden path among the rocks, that ledto the front porch of the house. 

There were two people on the porch--I heard their voices before I sawthem--and when I set my foot upon the wooden steps, I saw one of them, a woman, rise from her chair and step hastily towards me. 

"Come back!" cried the other, a man with a smooth-shaven, deeply linedface, and a pair of angry, blue eyes; and the woman stepped backquietly, acknowledging my lifted hat with a silent inclination. 

The man, who was reclining in an invalid's rolling-chair, clapped bothlarge, pale hands to the wheels and pushed himself out along theporch. He had shawls pinned about him, an untidy, drab-colored hat onhis head, and, when he looked down at me, he scowled. 

"I know who you are, " he said, in his acid voice; "you're one of theZoological men from Bronx Park. You look like it, anyway. "

"It is easy to recognize you from your reputation, " I replied, irritated at his discourtesy. 

"Really, " he replied, with something between a sneer and a laugh, "I'mobliged for your frankness. You're after my great auks, are you not?"

"Nothing else would have tempted me into this place, " I replied, sincerely. 

"Thank Heaven for that, " he said. "Sit down a moment; you'veinterrupted us. " Then, turning to the young woman, who wore the neatgown and tiny cap of a professional nurse, he bade her resume what shehad been saying. She did so, with deprecating glance at me, which madethe old man sneer again. 

"It happened so suddenly, " she said, in her low voice, "that I had nochance to get back. The boat was drifting in the cove; I sat in thestern, reading, both oars shipped, and the tiller swinging. Then Iheard a scratching under the boat, but thought it might besea-weed--and, next moment, came those soft thumpings, like the soundof a big fish rubbing its nose against a float. "

Halyard clutched the wheels of his chair and stared at the girl ingrim displeasure. 

"Didn't you know enough to be frightened?" he demanded. 

"No--not then, " she said, coloring faintly; "but when, after a fewmoments, I looked up and saw the harbor-master running up and down thebeach, I was horribly frightened. "

"Really?" said Halyard, sarcastically; "it was about time. " Then, turning to me, he rasped out: "And that young lady was obliged to rowall the way to Port-of-Waves and call to Lee's quarrymen to take herboat in. "

Completely mystified, I looked from Halyard to the girl, not in theleast comprehending what all this meant. 

"That will do, " said Halyard, ungraciously, which curt phrase wasapparently the usual dismissal for the nurse. 

She rose, and I rose, and she passed me with an inclination, steppingnoiselessly into the house. 

"I want beef-tea!" bawled Halyard after her; then he gave me anunamiable glance. 

"I was a well-bred man, " he sneered; "I'm a Harvard graduate, too, butI live as I like, and I do what I like, and I say what I like. "

"You certainly are not reticent, " I said, disgusted. 

"Why should I be?" he rasped; "I pay that young woman for myirritability; it's a bargain between us. "

"In your domestic affairs, " I said, "there is nothing that interestsme. I came to see those auks. "

"You probably believe them to be razor-billed auks, " he said, contemptuously. "But they're not; they're great auks. "

I suggested that he permit me to examine them, and he replied, indifferently, that they were in a pen in his backyard, and that I wasfree to step around the house when I cared to. 

I laid my rifle and pack on the veranda, and hastened off with mixedemotions, among which hope no longer predominated. No man in hissenses would keep two such precious prizes in a pen in his backyard, Iargued, and I was perfectly prepared to find anything from a puffin toa penguin in that pen. 

I shall never forget, as long as I live, my stupor of amazement when Icame to the wire-covered enclosure. Not only were there two greatauks in the pen, alive, breathing, squatting in bulky majesty on theirsea-weed bed, but one of them was gravely contemplating two newlyhatched chicks, all bill and feet, which nestled sedately at the edgeof a puddle of salt-water, where some small fish were swimming. 

For a while excitement blinded, nay, deafened me. I tried to realizethat I was gazing upon the last individuals of an all but extinctrace--the sole survivors of the gigantic auk, which, for thirty years, has been accounted an extinct creature. 

I believe that I did not move muscle nor limb until the sun had gonedown and the crowding darkness blurred my straining eyes and blottedthe great, silent, bright-eyed birds from sight. 

Even then I could not tear myself away from the enclosure; I listenedto the strange, drowsy note of the male bird, the fainter responses ofthe female, the thin plaints of the chicks, huddling under her breast;I heard their flipper-like, embryotic wings beating sleepily as thebirds stretched and yawned their beaks and clacked them, preparing forslumber. 

"If you please, " came a soft voice from the door, "Mr. Halyard awaitsyour company to dinner. "

IV

I dined well--or, rather, I might have enjoyed my dinner if Mr. Halyard had been eliminated; and the feast consisted exclusively of ajoint of beef, the pretty nurse, and myself. She was exceedinglyattractive--with a disturbing fashion of lowering her head and raisingher dark eyes when spoken to. 

As for Halyard, he was unspeakable, bundled up in his snuffy shawls, and making uncouth noises over his gruel. But it is only just to saythat his table was worth sitting down to and his wine was sound as abell. 

"Yah!" he snapped, "I'm sick of this cursed soup--and I'll trouble youto fill my glass--"

"It is dangerous for you to touch claret, " said the pretty nurse. 

"I might as well die at dinner as anywhere, " he observed. 

"Certainly, " said I, cheerfully passing the decanter, but he did notappear overpleased with the attention. 

"I can't smoke, either, " he snarled, hitching the shawls around untilhe looked like Richard the Third. 

However, he was good enough to shove a box of cigars at me, and I tookone and stood up, as the pretty nurse slipped past and vanished intothe little parlor beyond. 

We sat there for a while without speaking. He picked irritably at thebread-crumbs on the cloth, never glancing in my direction; and I, tired from my long foot-tour, lay back in my chair, silentlyappreciating one of the best cigars I ever smoked. 

"Well, " he rasped out at length, "what do you think of my auks--and myveracity?"

I told him that both were unimpeachable. 

"Didn't they call me a swindler down there at your museum?" hedemanded. 

I admitted that I had heard the term applied. Then I made a cleanbreast of the matter, telling him that it was I who had doubted; thatmy chief, Professor Farrago, had sent me against my will, and that Iwas ready and glad to admit that he, Mr. Halyard, was a benefactor ofthe human race. 

"Bosh!" he said. "What good does a confounded wobbly, bandy-toed birddo to the human race?"

But he was pleased, nevertheless; and presently he asked me, notunamiably, to punish his claret again. 

"I'm done for, " he said; "good things to eat and drink are no good tome. Some day I'll get mad enough to have a fit, and then--"

He paused to yawn. 

"Then, " he continued, "that little nurse of mine will drink up myclaret and go back to civilization, where people are polite. "

Somehow or other, in spite of the fact that Halyard was an old pig, what he said touched me. There was certainly not much left in life forhim--as he regarded life. 

"I'm going to leave her this house, " he said, arranging his shawls. "She doesn't know it. I'm going to leave her my money, too. Shedoesn't know that. Good Lord! What kind of a woman can she be to standmy bad temper for a few dollars a month!"

"I think, " said I, "that it's partly because she's poor, partlybecause she's sorry for you. "

He looked up with a ghastly smile. 

"You think she really is sorry?"

Before I could answer he went on: "I'm no mawkish sentimentalist, andI won't allow anybody to be sorry for me--do you hear?"

"Oh, I'm not sorry for you!" I said, hastily, and, for the first timesince I had seen him, he laughed heartily, without a sneer. 

We both seemed to feel better after that; I drank his wine and smokedhis cigars, and he appeared to take a certain grim pleasure inwatching me. 

"There's no fool like a young fool, " he observed, presently. 

As I had no doubt he referred to me, I paid him no attention. 

After fidgeting with his shawls, he gave me an oblique scowl and askedme my age. 

"Twenty-four, " I replied. 

"Sort of a tadpole, aren't you?" he said. 

As I took no offence, he repeated the remark. 

"Oh, come, " said I, "there's no use in trying to irritate me. I seethrough you; a row acts like a cocktail on you--but you'll have tostick to gruel in my company. "

"I call that impudence!" he rasped out, wrathfully. 

"I don't care what you call it, " I replied, undisturbed, "I am notgoing to be worried by you. Anyway, " I ended, "it is my opinion thatyou could be very good company if you chose. "

The proposition appeared to take his breath away--at least, he saidnothing more; and I finished my cigar in peace and tossed the stumpinto a saucer. 

"Now, " said I, "what price do you set upon your birds, Mr. Halyard?"

"Ten thousand dollars, " he snapped, with an evil smile. 

"You will receive a certified check when the birds are delivered, " Isaid, quietly. 

"You don't mean to say you agree to that outrageous bargain--and Iwon't take a cent less, either--Good Lord!--haven't you any spiritleft?" he cried, half rising from his pile of shawls. 

His piteous eagerness for a dispute sent me into laughter impossibleto control, and he eyed me, mouth open, animosity rising visibly. 

Then he seized the wheels of his invalid chair and trundled away, toomad to speak; and I strolled out into the parlor, still laughing. 

The pretty nurse was there, sewing under a hanging lamp. 

"If I am not indiscreet--" I began. 

"Indiscretion is the better part of valor, " said she, dropping herhead but raising her eyes. 

So I sat down with a frivolous smile peculiar to the appreciated. 

"Doubtless, " said I, "you are hemming a 'kerchief. "

"Doubtless I am not, " she said; "this is a night-cap for Mr. Halyard. "

A mental vision of Halyard in a night-cap, very mad, nearly set melaughing again. 

"Like the King of Yvetot, he wears his crown in bed, " I said, flippantly. 

"The King of Yvetot might have made that remark, " she observed, re-threading her needle. 

It is unpleasant to be reproved. How large and red and hot a man'sears feel. 

To cool them, I strolled out to the porch; and, after a while, thepretty nurse came out, too, and sat down in a chair not far away. Sheprobably regretted her lost opportunity to be flirted with. 

"I have so little company--it is a great relief to see somebody fromthe world, " she said. "If you can be agreeable, I wish you would. "

The idea that she had come out to see me was so agreeable that Iremained speechless until she said: "Do tell me what people are doingin New York. "

So I seated myself on the steps and talked about the portion of theworld inhabited by me, while she sat sewing in the dull light thatstraggled out from the parlor windows. 

She had a certain coquetry of her own, using the usual methods with anindividuality that was certainly fetching. For instance, when she losther needle--and, another time, when we both, on hands and knees, hunted for her thimble. 

However, directions for these pastimes may be found in contemporaryclassics. 

I was as entertaining as I could be--perhaps not quite as entertainingas a young man usually thinks he is. However, we got on very welltogether until I asked her tenderly who the harbor-master might be, whom they all discussed so mysteriously. 

"I do not care to speak about it, " she said, with a primness of whichI had not suspected her capable. 

Of course I could scarcely pursue the subject after that--and, indeed, I did not intend to--so I began to tell her how I fancied I had seen aman on the cliff that afternoon, and how the creature slid over thesheer rock like a snake. 

To my amazement, she asked me to kindly discontinue the account of myadventures, in an icy tone, which left no room for protest. 

"It was only a sea-otter, " I tried to explain, thinking perhaps shedid not care for snake stories. 

But the explanation did not appear to interest her, and I wasmortified to observe that my impression upon her was anything butpleasant. 

"She doesn't seem to like me and my stories, " thought I, "but she istoo young, perhaps, to appreciate them. "

So I forgave her--for she was even prettier than I had thought her atfirst--and I took my leave, saying that Mr. Halyard would doubtlessdirect me to my room. 

Halyard was in his library, cleaning a revolver, when I entered. 

"Your room is next to mine, " he said; "pleasant dreams, and kindlyrefrain from snoring. "

"May I venture an absurd hope that you will do the same!" I replied, politely. 

That maddened him, so I hastily withdrew. 

I had been asleep for at least two hours when a movement by my bedsideand a light in my eyes awakened me. I sat bolt upright in bed, blinking at Halyard, who, clad in a dressing-gown and wearing anight-cap, had wheeled himself into my room with one hand, while withthe other he solemnly waved a candle over my head. 

"I'm so cursed lonely, " he said--"come, there's a good fellow--talk tome in your own original, impudent way. "

I objected strenuously, but he looked so worn and thin, so lonely andbad-tempered, so lovelessly grotesque, that I got out of bed andpassed a spongeful of cold water over my head. 

Then I returned to bed and propped the pillows up for a back-rest, ready to quarrel with him if it might bring some little pleasure intohis morbid existence. 

"No, " he said, amiably, "I'm too worried to quarrel, but I'm muchobliged for your kindly offer. I want to tell you something. "

"What?" I asked, suspiciously. 

"I want to ask you if you ever saw a man with gills like a fish?"

"Gills?" I repeated. 

"Yes, gills! Did you?"

"No, " I replied, angrily, "and neither did you. "

"No, I never did, " he said, in a curiously placid voice, "but there'sa man with gills like a fish who lives in the ocean out there. Oh, youneedn't look that way--nobody ever thinks of doubting my word, and Itell you that there's a man--or a thing that looks like a man--as bigas you are, too--all slate-colored--with nasty red gills like afish!--and I've a witness to prove what I say!"

"Who?" I asked, sarcastically. 

"The witness? My nurse. "

"Oh! She saw a slate-colored man with gills?"

"Yes, she did. So did Francis Lee, superintendent of the Mica QuarryCompany at Port-of-Waves. So have a dozen men who work in the quarry. Oh, you needn't laugh, young man. It's an old story here, and anybodycan tell you about the harbor-master. "

"The harbor-master!" I exclaimed. 

"Yes, that slate-colored thing with gills, that looks like aman--and--by Heaven! _is_ a man--that's the harbor-master. Ask anyquarryman at Port-of-Waves what it is that comes purring around theirboats at the wharf and unties painters and changes the mooring ofevery cat-boat in the cove at night! Ask Francis Lee what it was hesaw running and leaping up and down the shoal at sunset last Friday!Ask anybody along the coast what sort of a thing moves about thecliffs like a man and slides over them into the sea like an otter--"

"I saw it do that!" I burst out. 

"Oh, did you? Well, _what was it?_"

Something kept me silent, although a dozen explanations flew to mylips. 

After a pause, Halyard said: "You saw the harbor-master, that's whatyou saw!"

I looked at him without a word. 

"Don't mistake me, " he said, pettishly; "I don't think that theharbor-master is a spirit or a sprite or a hobgoblin, or any sort ofdamned rot. Neither do I believe it to be an optical illusion. "

"What do you think it is?" I asked. 

"I think it's a man--I think it's a branch of the human race--that'swhat I think. Let me tell you something: the deepest spot in theAtlantic Ocean is a trifle over five miles deep--and I suppose youknow that this place lies only about a quarter of a mile off thisheadland. The British exploring vessel, _Gull_, Captain Marotte, discovered and sounded it, I believe. Anyway, it's there, and it's mybelief that the profound depths are inhabited by the remnants of thelast race of amphibious human beings!"

This was childish; I did not bother to reply. 

"Believe it or not, as you will, " he said, angrily; "one thing I know, and that is this: the harbor-master has taken to hanging around mycove, and he is attracted by my nurse! I won't have it! I'll blow hisfishy gills out of his head if I ever get a shot at him! I don't carewhether it's homicide or not--anyway, it's a new kind of murder and itattracts me!"

I gazed at him incredulously, but he was working himself into apassion, and I did not choose to say what I thought. 

"Yes, this slate-colored thing with gills goes purring and grinningand spitting about after my nurse--when she walks, when she rows, whenshe sits on the beach! Gad! It drives me nearly frantic. I won'ttolerate it, I tell you!"

"No, " said I, "I wouldn't either. " And I rolled over in bed convulsedwith laughter. 

The next moment I heard my door slam. I smothered my mirth and rose toclose the window, for the land-wind blew cold from the forest, and adrizzle was sweeping the carpet as far as my bed. 

That luminous glare which sometimes lingers after the stars go out, threw a trembling, nebulous radiance over sand and cove. I heard theseething currents under the breakers' softened thunder--louder than Iever heard it. Then, as I closed my window, lingering for a last lookat the crawling tide, I saw a man standing, ankle-deep, in the surf, all alone there in the night. But--was it a man? For the figuresuddenly began running over the beach on all fours like a beetle, waving its limbs like feelers. Before I could throw open the windowagain it darted into the surf, and, when I leaned out into thechilling drizzle, I saw nothing save the flat ebb crawling on thecoast--I heard nothing save the purring of bubbles on seething sands. 

V

It took me a week to perfect my arrangements for transporting thegreat auks, by water, to Port-of-Waves, where a lumber schooner was tobe sent from Petite Sainte Isole, chartered by me for a voyage to NewYork. 

I had constructed a cage made of osiers, in which my auks were tosquat until they arrived at Bronx Park. My telegrams to ProfessorFarrago were brief. One merely said "Victory!" Another explained thatI wanted no assistance; and a third read: "Schooner chartered. ArriveNew York July 1st. Send furniture-van to foot of Bluff Street. "

My week as a guest of Mr. Halyard proved interesting. I wrangled withthat invalid to his heart's content, I worked all day on my osiercage, I hunted the thimble in the moonlight with the pretty nurse. Wesometimes found it. 

As for the thing they called the harbor-master, I saw it a dozentimes, but always either at night or so far away and so close to thesea that of course no trace of it remained when I reached the spot, rifle in hand. 

I had quite made up my mind that the so-called harbor-master was ademented darky--wandered from, Heaven knows where--perhaps shipwreckedand gone mad from his sufferings. Still, it was far from pleasant toknow that the creature was strongly attracted by the pretty nurse. 

She, however, persisted in regarding the harbor-master as asea-creature; she earnestly affirmed that it had gills, like a fish'sgills, that it had a soft, fleshy hole for a mouth, and its eyes wereluminous and lidless and fixed. 

"Besides, " she said, with a shudder, "it's all slate color, like aporpoise, and it looks as wet as a sheet of india-rubber in adissecting-room. "

The day before I was to set sail with my auks in a cat-boat bound forPort-of-Waves, Halyard trundled up to me in his chair and announcedhis intention of going with me. 

"Going where?" I asked. 

"To Port-of-Waves and then to New York, " he replied, tranquilly. 

I was doubtful, and my lack of cordiality hurt his feelings. 

"Oh, of course, if you need the sea-voyage--" I began. 

"I don't; I need you, " he said, savagely; "I need the stimulus of ourdaily quarrel. I never disagreed so pleasantly with anybody in mylife; it agrees with me; I am a hundred per cent. Better than I waslast week. "

I was inclined to resent this, but something in the deep-lined face ofthe invalid softened me. Besides, I had taken a hearty liking to theold pig. 

"I don't want any mawkish sentiment about it, " he said, observing meclosely; "I won't permit anybody to feel sorry for me--do youunderstand?"

"I'll trouble you to use a different tone in addressing me, " Ireplied, hotly; "I'll feel sorry for you if I choose to!" And ourusual quarrel proceeded, to his deep satisfaction. 

By six o'clock next evening I had Halyard's luggage stowed away in thecat-boat, and the pretty nurse's effects corded down, with the newlyhatched auk-chicks in a hat-box on top. She and I placed the osiercage aboard, securing it firmly, and then, throwing tablecloths overthe auks' heads, we led those simple and dignified birds down the pathand across the plank at the little wooden pier. Together we locked upthe house, while Halyard stormed at us both and wheeled himselffuriously up and down the beach below. At the last moment she forgother thimble. But we found it, I forget where. 

"Come on!" shouted Halyard, waving his shawls furiously; "what thedevil are you about up there?"

He received our explanation with a sniff, and we trundled him aboardwithout further ceremony. 

"Don't run me across the plank like a steamer trunk!" he shouted, as Ishot him dexterously into the cock-pit. But the wind was dying away, and I had no time to dispute with him then. 

The sun was setting above the pine-clad ridge as our sail flapped andpartly filled, and I cast off, and began a long tack, east by south, to avoid the spouting rocks on our starboard bow. 

The sea-birds rose in clouds as we swung across the shoal, the blacksurf-ducks scuttered out to sea, the gulls tossed their sun-tippedwings in the ocean, riding the rollers like bits of froth. 

Already we were sailing slowly out across that great hole in theocean, five miles deep, the most profound sounding ever taken in theAtlantic. The presence of great heights or great depths, seen orunseen, always impresses the human mind--perhaps oppresses it. We werevery silent; the sunlight stain on cliff and beach deepened tocrimson, then faded into sombre purple bloom that lingered long afterthe rose-tint died out in the zenith. 

Our progress was slow; at times, although the sail filled with therising land breeze, we scarcely seemed to move at all. 

"Of course, " said the pretty nurse, "we couldn't be aground in thedeepest hole in the Atlantic. "

"Scarcely, " said Halyard, sarcastically, "unless we're grounded on awhale. "

"What's that soft thumping?" I asked. "Have we run afoul of a barrelor log?"

It was almost too dark to see, but I leaned over the rail and sweptthe water with my hand. 

Instantly something smooth glided under it, like the back of a greatfish, and I jerked my hand back to the tiller. At the same moment thewhole surface of the water seemed to begin to purr, with a sound likethe breaking of froth in a champagne-glass. 

"What's the matter with you?" asked Halyard, sharply. 

"A fish came up under my hand, " I said; "a porpoise or something--"

With a low cry, the pretty nurse clasped my arm in both her hands. 

"Listen!" she whispered. "It's purring around the boat. "

"What the devil's purring?" shouted Halyard. "I won't have anythingpurring around me!"

At that moment, to my amazement, I saw that the boat had stoppedentirely, although the sail was full and the small pennant flutteredfrom the mast-head. Something, too, was tugging at the rudder, twisting and jerking it until the tiller strained and creaked in myhand. All at once it snapped; the tiller swung useless and the boatwhirled around, heeling in the stiffening wind, and drove shoreward. 

It was then that I, ducking to escape the boom, caught a glimpse ofsomething ahead--something that a sudden wave seemed to toss on deckand leave there, wet and flapping--a man with round, fixed, fishyeyes, and soft, slaty skin. 

But the horror of the thing were the two gills that swelled andrelaxed spasmodically, emitting a rasping, purring sound--two gasping, blood-red gills, all fluted and scolloped and distended. 

Frozen with amazement and repugnance, I stared at the creature; I feltthe hair stirring on my head and the icy sweat on my forehead. 

"It's the harbor-master!" screamed Halyard. 

The harbor-master had gathered himself into a wet lump, squattingmotionless in the bows under the mast; his lidless eyes werephosphorescent, like the eyes of living codfish. After a while I feltthat either fright or disgust was going to strangle me where I sat, but it was only the arms of the pretty nurse clasped around me in afrenzy of terror. 

There was not a fire-arm aboard that we could get at. Halyard's handcrept backward where a steel-shod boat-hook lay, and I also made aclutch at it. The next moment I had it in my hand, and staggeredforward, but the boat was already tumbling shoreward among thebreakers, and the next I knew the harbor-master ran at me like acolossal rat, just as the boat rolled over and over through the surf, spilling freight and passengers among the sea-weed-covered rocks. 

When I came to myself I was thrashing about knee-deep in a rocky pool, blinded by the water and half suffocated, while under my feet, like astranded porpoise, the harbor-master made the water boil in hisefforts to upset me. But his limbs seemed soft and boneless; he had nonails, no teeth, and he bounced and thumped and flapped and splashedlike a fish, while I rained blows on him with the boat-hook thatsounded like blows on a football. And all the while his gills wereblowing out and frothing, and purring, and his lidless eyes lookedinto mine, until, nauseated and trembling, I dragged myself back tothe beach, where already the pretty nurse alternately wrung her handsand her petticoats in ornamental despair. 

Beyond the cove, Halyard was bobbing up and down, afloat in hisinvalid's chair, trying to steer shoreward. He was the maddest man Iever saw. 

"Have you killed that rubber-headed thing yet?" he roared. 

"I can't kill it, " I shouted, breathlessly. "I might as well try tokill a football!"

"Can't you punch a hole in it?" he bawled. "If I can only get athim--"

His words were drowned in a thunderous splashing, a roar of great, broad flippers beating the sea, and I saw the gigantic forms of my twogreat auks, followed by their chicks, blundering past in a shower ofspray, driving headlong out into the ocean. 

"Oh, Lord!" I said. "I can't stand that, " and, for the first time inmy life, I fainted peacefully--and appropriately--at the feet of thepretty nurse. 

 * * * * *

It is within the range of possibility that this story may be doubted. It doesn't matter; nothing can add to the despair of a man who haslost two great auks. 

As for Halyard, nothing affects him--except his involuntary sea-bath, and that did him so much good that he writes me from the South thathe's going on a walking-tour through Switzerland--if I'll join him. Imight have joined him if he had not married the pretty nurse. I wonderwhether--But, of course, this is no place for speculation. 

In regard to the harbor-master, you may believe it or not, as youchoose. But if you hear of any great auks being found, kindly throw atable-cloth over their heads and notify the authorities at the newZoological Gardens in Bronx Park, New York. The reward is ten thousanddollars. 

VI

Before I proceed any further, common decency requires me to reassuremy readers concerning my intentions, which, Heaven knows, are far fromflippant. 

To separate fact from fancy has always been difficult for me, but nowthat I have had the honor to be chosen secretary of the ZoologicalGardens in Bronx Park, I realize keenly that unless I give up writingfiction nobody will believe what I write about science. Therefore itis to a serious and unimaginative public that I shall hereafteraddress myself; and I do it in the modest confidence that I shallneither be distrusted nor doubted, although unfortunately I stillwrite in that irrational style which suggests covert frivolity, andfor which I am undergoing a course of treatment in English literatureat Columbia College. Now, having promised to avoid originality andconfine myself to facts, I shall tell what I have to tell concerningthe dingue, the mammoth, and--something else. 

For some weeks it had been rumored that Professor Farrago, presidentof the Bronx Park Zoological Society, would resign, to accept anenormous salary as manager of Barnum & Bailey's circus. He was nowwith the circus in London, and had promised to cable his decisionbefore the day was over. 

I hoped he would decide to remain with us. I was his secretary andparticular favorite, and I viewed, without enthusiasm, the advent of anew president, who might shake us all out of our congenial andcarefully excavated ruts. However, it was plain that the trustees ofthe society expected the resignation of Professor Farrago, for theyhad been in secret session all day, considering the names of possiblecandidates to fill Professor Farrago's large, old-fashioned shoes. These preparations worried me, for I could scarcely expect anotherchief as kind and considerate as Professor Leonidas Farrago. 

That afternoon in June I left my office in the Administration Buildingin Bronx Park and strolled out under the trees for a breath of air. But the heat of the sun soon drove me to seek shelter under a littlesquare arbor, a shady retreat covered with purple wistaria andhoneysuckle. As I entered the arbor I noticed that there were threeother people seated there--an elderly lady with masculine features andshort hair, a younger lady sitting beside her, and, farther away, arough-looking young man reading a book. 

For a moment I had an indistinct impression of having met the elderlady somewhere, and under circumstances not entirely agreeable, butbeyond a stony and indifferent glance she paid no attention to me. Asfor the younger lady, she did not look at me at all. She was veryyoung, with pretty eyes, a mass of silky brown hair, and a skin asfresh as a rose which had just been rained on. 

With that delicacy peculiar to lonely scientific bachelors, I modestlysat down beside the rough young man, although there was more roombeside the younger lady. "Some lazy loafer reading a penny dreadful, "I thought, glancing at him, then at the title of his book. Hearing mebeside him, he turned around and blinked over his shabby shoulder, andthe movement uncovered the page he had been silently conning. Thevolume in his hands was Darwin's famous monograph on the monodactyl. 

He noticed the astonishment on my face and smiled uneasily, shiftingthe short clay pipe in his mouth. 

"I guess, " he observed, "that this here book is too much for me, mister. "

"It's rather technical, " I replied, smiling. 

"Yes, " he said, in vague admiration; "it's fierce, ain't it?"

After a silence I asked him if he would tell me why he had chosenDarwin as a literary pastime. 

"Well, " he said, placidly, "I was tryin' to read about annermals, butI'm up against a word-slinger this time all right. Now here's agum-twister, " and he painfully spelled out m-o-n-o-d-a-c-t-y-l, breathing hard all the while. 

"Monodactyl, " I said, "means a single-toed creature. "

He turned the page with alacrity. "Is that the beast he's talkin'about?" he asked. 

The illustration he pointed out was a wood-cut representing Darwin'sreconstruction of the dingue from the fossil bones in the BritishMuseum. It was a well-executed wood-cut, showing a dingue in theforeground and, to give scale, a mammoth in the middle distance. 

"Yes, " I replied, "that is the dingue. "

"I've seen one, " he observed, calmly. 

I smiled and explained that the dingue had been extinct for somethousands of years. 

"Oh, I guess not, " he replied, with cool optimism. Then he placed agrimy forefinger on the mammoth. 

"I've seen them things, too, " he remarked. 

Again I patiently pointed out his error, and suggested that hereferred to the elephant. 

"Elephant be blowed!" he replied, scornfully. "I guess I know what Iseen. An' I seen that there thing you call a dingue, too. "

Not wishing to prolong a futile discussion, I remained silent. After amoment he wheeled around, removing his pipe from his hard mouth. 

"Did you ever hear tell of Graham's Glacier?" he demanded. 

"Certainly, " I replied, astonished; "it's the southernmost glacier inBritish America. "

"Right, " he said. "And did you ever hear tell of the Hudson Mountings, mister?"

"Yes, " I replied. 

"What's behind 'em?" he snapped out. 

"Nobody knows, " I answered. "They are considered impassable. "

"They ain't, though, " he said, doggedly; "I've been behind 'em. "

"Really!" I replied, tiring of his yarn. 

"Ya-as, reely, " he repeated, sullenly. Then he began to fumble andsearch through the pages of his book until he found what he wanted. "Mister, " he said, "jest read that out loud, please. "

The passage he indicated was the famous chapter beginning:

 "Is the mammoth extinct? Is the dingue extinct? Probably. And yet the aborigines of British America maintain the contrary. Probably both the mammoth and the dingue are extinct; but until expeditions have penetrated and explored not only the unknown region in Alaska but also that hidden table-land beyond the Graham Glacier and the Hudson Mountains, it will not be possible to definitely announce the total extinction of either the mammoth or the dingue. "

When I had read it, slowly, for his benefit, he brought his hand downsmartly on one knee and nodded rapidly. 

"Mister, " he said, "that gent knows a thing or two, and don't youforgit it!" Then he demanded, abruptly, how I knew he hadn't beenbehind the Graham Glacier. 

I explained. 

"Shucks!" he said; "there's a road five miles wide inter that theretable-land. Mister, I ain't been in New York long; I come inter port aweek ago on the _Arctic Belle_, whaler. I was in the Hudson range whenthat there Graham Glacier bust up--"

"What!" I exclaimed. 

"Didn't you know it?" he asked. "Well, mebbe it ain't in the papers, but it busted all right--blowed up by a earthquake an' volcanocombine. An', mister, it was oreful. My, how I did run!"

"Do you mean to tell me that some convulsion of the earth hasshattered the Graham Glacier?" I asked. 

"Convulsions? Ya-as, an' fits, too, " he said, sulkily. "The hull blamething dropped inter a hole. An' say, mister, home an' mother is goodenough fur me now. "

I stared at him stupidly. 

"Once, " he said, "I ketched pelts fur them sharps at Hudson Bay, likeany yaller husky, but the things I seen arter that convulsion-fit--the_things I seen behind the Hudson Mountings_--don't make me hankerarter no life on the pe-rarie wild, lemme tell yer. I may be a MotherCarey chicken, but this chicken has got enough. "

After a long silence I picked up his book again and pointed at thepicture of the mammoth. 

"What color is it?" I asked. 

"Kinder red an' brown, " he answered, promptly. "It's woolly, too. "

Astounded, I pointed to the dingue. 

"One-toed, " he said, quickly; "makes a noise like a bell whenscutterin' about. "

Intensely excited, I laid my hand on his arm. "My society will giveyou a thousand dollars, " I said, "if you pilot me inside the Hudsontable-land and show me either a mammoth or a dingue!"

He looked me calmly in the eye. 

"Mister, " he said, slowly, "have you got a million for to squander onme?"

"No, " I said, suspiciously. 

"Because, " he went on, "it wouldn't be enough. Home an' mother suitsme now. "

He picked up his book and rose. In vain I asked his name and address;in vain I begged him to dine with me--to become my honored guest. 

"Nit, " he said, shortly, and shambled off down the path. 

But I was not going to lose him like that. I rose and deliberatelystarted to stalk him. It was easy. He shuffled along, pulling on hispipe, and I after him. 

It was growing a little dark, although the sun still reddened the topsof the maples. Afraid of losing him in the falling dusk, I once moreapproached him and laid my hand upon his ragged sleeve. 

"Look here, " he cried, wheeling about, "I want you to quit follerin'me. Don't I tell you money can't make me go back to them mountings!"And as I attempted to speak, he suddenly tore off his cap and pointedto his head. His hair was white as snow. 

"That's what come of monkeyin' inter your cursed mountings, " heshouted, fiercely. "There's things in there what no Christian oughtersee. Lemme alone er I'll bust yer. "

He shambled on, doubled fists swinging by his side. The next moment, setting my teeth obstinately, I followed him and caught him by thepark gate. At my hail he whirled around with a snarl, but I grabbedhim by the throat and backed him violently against the park wall. 

"You invaluable ruffian, " I said, "now you listen to me. I live inthat big stone building, and I'll give you a thousand dollars to takeme behind the Graham Glacier. Think it over and call on me when youare in a pleasanter frame of mind. If you don't come by noon to-morrowI'll go to the Graham Glacier without you. "

He was attempting to kick me all the time, but I managed to avoid him, and when I had finished I gave him a shove which almost loosened hisspinal column. He went reeling out across the sidewalk, and when hehad recovered his breath and his balance he danced with displeasureand displayed a vocabulary that astonished me. However, he kept hisdistance. 

As I turned back into the park, satisfied that he would not follow, the first person I saw was the elderly, stony-faced lady of thewistaria arbor advancing on tiptoe. Behind her came the younger ladywith cheeks like a rose that had been rained on. 

Instantly it occurred to me that they had followed us, and at the samemoment I knew who the stony-faced lady was. Angry, but polite, Ilifted my hat and saluted her, and she, probably furious at havingbeen caught tip-toeing after me, cut me dead. The younger lady passedme with face averted, but even in the dusk I could see the tip of onelittle ear turn scarlet. 

Walking on hurriedly, I entered the Administration Building, and foundProfessor Lesard, of the reptilian department, preparing to leave. 

"Don't you do it, " I said, sharply; "I've got exciting news. "

"I'm only going to the theatre, " he replied. "It's a good show--Adamand Eve; there's a snake in it, you know. It's in my line. "

"I can't help it, " I said; and I told him briefly what had occurred inthe arbor. 

"But that's not all, " I continued, savagely. "Those women followed us, and who do you think one of them turned out to be? Well, it wasProfessor Smawl, of Barnard College, and I'll bet every pair of bootsI own that she starts for the Graham Glacier within a week. Idiot thatI was!" I exclaimed, smiting my head with both hands. "I neverrecognized her until I saw her tip-toeing and craning her neck tolisten. Now she knows about the glacier; she heard every word thatyoung ruffian said, and she'll go to the glacier if it's only toforestall me. "

Professor Lesard looked anxious. He knew that Miss Smawl, professor ofnatural history at Barnard College, had long desired an appointmentat the Bronx Park gardens. It was even said she had a chance ofsucceeding Professor Farrago as president, but that, of course, musthave been a joke. However, she haunted the gardens, annoying thekeepers by persistently poking the animals with her umbrella. On oneoccasion she sent us word that she desired to enter the tigers'enclosure for the purpose of making experiments in hypnotism. Professor Farrago was absent, but I took it upon myself to send backword that I feared the tigers might injure her. The miserable smallboy who took my message informed her that I was afraid she mightinjure the tigers, and the unpleasant incident almost cost me myposition. 

"I am quite convinced, " said I to Professor Lesard, "that Miss Smawlis perfectly capable of abusing the information she overheard, and ofstarting herself to explore a region that, by all the laws of decency, justice, and prior claim, belongs to me. "

"Well, " said Lesard, with a peculiar laugh, "it's not certain whetheryou can go at all. "

"Professor Farrago will authorize me, " I said, confidently. 

"Professor Farrago has resigned, " said Lesard. It was a bolt from aclear sky. 

"Good Heavens!" I blurted out. "What will become of the rest of us, then?"

"I don't know, " he replied. "The trustees are holding a meeting overin the Administration Building to elect a new president for us. Itdepends on the new president what becomes of us. "

"Lesard, " I said, hoarsely, "you don't suppose that they couldpossibly elect Miss Smawl as our president, do you?"

He looked at me askance and bit his cigar. 

"I'd be in a nice position, wouldn't I?" said I, anxiously. 

"The lady would probably make you walk the plank for that tigerbusiness, " he replied. 

"But I didn't do it, " I protested, with sickly eagerness. "Besides, Iexplained to her--"

He said nothing, and I stared at him, appalled by the possibility ofreporting to Professor Smawl for instructions next morning. 

"See here, Lesard, " I said, nervously, "I wish you would step over tothe Administration Building and ask the trustees if I may prepare forthis expedition. Will you?"

He glanced at me sympathetically. It was quite natural for me to wishto secure my position before the new president was elected--especiallyas there was a chance of the new president being Miss Smawl. 

"You are quite right, " he said; "the Graham Glacier would be thesafest place for you if our next president is to be the Lady of theTigers. " And he started across the park puffing his cigar. 

I sat down on the doorstep to wait for his return, not at all charmedwith the prospect. It made me furious, too, to see my ambition nippedwith the frost of a possible veto from Miss Smawl. 

"If she is elected, " thought I, "there is nothing for me but toresign--to avoid the inconvenience of being shown the door. Oh, I wishI had allowed her to hypnotize the tigers!"

Thoughts of crime flitted through my mind. Miss Smawl would not remainpresident--or anything else very long--if she persisted in her desirefor the tigers. And then when she called for help I would pretend notto hear. 

Aroused from criminal meditation by the return of Professor Lesard, Ijumped up and peered into his perplexed eyes. "They've elected apresident, " he said, "but they won't tell us who the president isuntil to-morrow. "

"You don't think--" I stammered. 

"I don't know. But I know this: the new president sanctions theexpedition to the Graham Glacier, and directs you to choose anassistant and begin preparations for four people. "

Overjoyed, I seized his hand and said, "Hurray!" in a voice weak withemotion. "The old dragon isn't elected this time, " I added, triumphantly. 

"By-the-way, " he said, "who was the other dragon with her in the parkthis evening?"

I described her in a more modulated voice. 

"Whew!" observed Professor Lesard, "that must be her assistant, Professor Dorothy Van Twiller! She's the prettiest blue-stocking intown. "

With this curious remark my confrère followed me into my room andwrote down the list of articles I dictated to him. The list included acomplete camping equipment for myself and three other men. 

"Am I one of those other men?" inquired Lesard, with an unhappy smile. 

Before I could reply my door was shoved open and a figure appeared atthe threshold, cap in hand. 

"What do you want?" I asked, sternly; but my heart was beating highwith triumph. 

The figure shuffled; then came a subdued voice:

"Mister, I guess I'll go back to the Graham Glacier along with you. I'm Billy Spike, an' it kinder scares me to go back to them HudsonMountains, but somehow, mister, when you choked me and kinder walkedme off on my ear, why, mister, I kinder took to you like. "

There was absolute silence for a minute; then he said:

"So if you go, I guess I'll go, too, mister. "

"For a thousand dollars?"

"Fur nawthin', " he muttered--"or what you like. "

"All right, Billy, " I said, briskly; "just look over those rifles andammunition and see that everything's sound. "

He slowly lifted his tough young face and gave me a doglike glance. They were hard eyes, but there was gratitude in them. 

"You'll get your throat slit, " whispered Lesard. 

"Not while Billy's with me, " I replied, cheerfully. 

Late that night, as I was preparing for pleasant dreams, a knock cameon my door and a telegraph-messenger handed me a note, which I read, shivering in my bare feet, although the thermometer marked eightyFahrenheit:

 "You will immediately leave for the Hudson Mountains via Wellman Bay, Labrador, there to await further instructions. Equipment for yourself and one assistant will include following articles" [here began a list of camping utensils, scientific paraphernalia, and provisions]. "The steamer _Penguin_ sails at five o'clock to-morrow morning. Kindly find yourself on board at that hour. Any excuse for not complying with these orders will be accepted as your resignation. 

 "SUSAN SMAWL, "President Bronx Zoological Society. "

"Lesard!" I shouted, trembling with fury. 

He appeared at his door, chastely draped in pajamas; and he read theinsolent letter with terrified alacrity. 

"What are you going to do--resign?" he asked, much frightened. 

"Do!" I snarled, grinding my teeth; "I'm going--that's what I'm goingto do!"

"But--but you can't get ready and catch that steamer, too, " hestammered. 

He did not know me. 

VII

And so it came about that one calm evening towards the end of June, William Spike and I went into camp under the southerly shelter of thatvast granite wall called the Hudson Mountains, there to await thepromised "further instructions. "

It had been a tiresome trip by steamer to Anticosti, from there byschooner to Widgeon Bay, then down the coast and up the Cape ClearRiver to Port Porpoise. There we bought three pack-mules and starteddue north on the Great Fur Trail. The second day out we passed FortBoisé, the last outpost of civilization, and on the sixth day we weretravelling eastward under the granite mountain parapets. 

On the evening of the sixth day out from Fort Boisé we went into campfor the last time before entering the unknown land. 

I could see it already through my field-glasses, and while William wasbuilding the fire I climbed up among the rocks above and sat down, glasses levelled, to study the prospect. 

There was nothing either extraordinary or forbidding in the landscapewhich stretched out beyond; to the right the solid palisade of granitecut off the view; to the left the palisade continued, an endlessbarrier of sheer cliffs crowned with pine and hemlock. But theinteresting section of the landscape lay almost directly in front ofme--a rent in the mountain-wall through which appeared to run a level, arid plain, miles wide, and as smooth and even as a highroad. 

There could be no doubt concerning the significance of that rent inthe solid mountain-wall; and, moreover, it was exactly as WilliamSpike had described it. However, I called to him and he came up fromthe smoky camp-fire, axe on shoulder. 

"Yep, " he said, squatting beside me; "the Graham Glacier used tomeander through that there hole, but somethin' went wrong with theearth's in'ards an' there was a bust-up. "

"And you saw it, William?" I said, with a sigh of envy. 

"Hey? Seen it? Sure I seen it! I was to Spoutin' Springs, twenty milewest, with a bale o' blue fox an' otter pelt. Fust I knew them geysersbegun for to groan egregious like, an' I seen the caribou gallopin'hell-bent south. 'This climate, ' sez I, 'is too bracin' for me, ' so Istruck a back trail an' landed onto a hill. Then them geysers blowedup, one arter the next, an' I heard somethin' kinder cave in betweenhere an' China. I disremember things what happened. Somethin' throwedme down, but I couldn't stay there, for the blamed ground was runnin'like a river--all wavy-like, an' the sky hit me on the back o' mehead. "

"And then?" I urged, in that new excitement which every repetition ofthe story revived. I had heard it all twenty times since we left NewYork, but mere repetition could not apparently satisfy me. 

"Then, " continued William, "the whole world kinder went off like afire-cracker, an' I come too, an' ran like--"

"I know, " said I, cutting him short, for I had become wearied of theinvariable profanity which lent a lurid ending to his narrative. 

"After that, " I continued, "you went through the rent in themountains?"

"Sure. "

"And you saw a dingue and a creature that resembled a mammoth?"

"Sure, " he repeated, sulkily. 

"And you saw something else?" I always asked this question; itfascinated me to see the sullen fright flicker in William's eyes, andthe mechanical backward glance, as though what he had seen might stillbe behind him. 

He had never answered this third question but once, and that time hefairly snarled in my face as he growled: "I seen what no Christianoughter see. "

So when I repeated: "And you saw something else, William?" he gave mea wicked, frightened leer, and shuffled off to feed the mules. Flattery, entreaties, threats left him unmoved; he never told me whatthe third thing was that he had seen behind the Hudson Mountains. 

William had retired to mix up with his mules; I resumed my binocularsand my silent inspection of the great, smooth path left by the GrahamGlacier when something or other exploded that vast mass of ice intovapor. 

The arid plain wound out from the unknown country like a river, and Ithought then, and think now, that when the glacier was blown intovapor the vapor descended in the most terrific rain the world has everseen, and poured through the newly blasted mountain-gateway, sweepingthe earth to bed-rock. To corroborate this theory, miles to thesouthward I could see the débris winding out across the land towardsWellman Bay, but as the terminal moraine of the vanished glacierformerly ended there I could not be certain that my theory wascorrect. Owing to the formation of the mountains I could not see morethan half a mile into the unknown country. What I could see appearedto be nothing but the continuation of the glacier's path, scored outby the cloud-burst, and swept as smooth as a floor. 

Sitting there, my heart beating heavily with excitement, I lookedthrough the evening glow at the endless, pine-crowned mountain-wallwith its giant's gateway pierced for me! And I thought of all theexplorers and the unknown heroes--trappers, Indians, humblenaturalists, perhaps--who had attempted to scale that sheer barricadeand had died there or failed, beaten back from those eternal cliffs. Eternal? No! For the Eternal Himself had struck the rock, and it hadsprung asunder, thundering obedience. 

In the still evening air the smoke from the fire below mounted in astraight, slender pillar, like the smoke from those ancient altarsbuilded before the first blood had been shed on earth. 

The evening wind stirred the pines; a tiny spring brook made thinharmony among the rocks; a murmur came from the quiet camp. It wasWilliam adjuring his mules. In the deepening twilight I descended thehillock, stepping cautiously among the rocks. 

Then, suddenly, as I stood outside the reddening ring of firelight, far in the depths of the unknown country, far behind themountain-wall, a sound grew on the quiet air. William heard it andturned his face to the mountains. The sound faded to a vibration whichwas felt, not heard. Then once more I began to divine a vibration inthe air, gathering in distant volume until it became a sound, lastingthe space of a spoken word, fading to vibration, then silence. 

Was it a cry?

I looked at William inquiringly. He had quietly fainted away. 

I got him to the little brook and poked his head into the icy water, and after a while he sat up pluckily. 

To an indignant question he replied: "Naw, I ain't a-cussin' you. Lemme be or I'll have fits. "

"Was it that sound that scared you?" I asked. 

"Ya-as, " he replied with a dauntless shiver. 

"Was it the voice of the mammoth?" I persisted, excitedly. "Speak, William, or I'll drag you about and kick you!"

He replied that it was neither a mammoth nor a dingue, and added astrong request for privacy, which I was obliged to grant, as I couldnot torture another word out of him. 

I slept little that night; the exciting proximity of the unknown landwas too much for me. But although I lay awake for hours, I heardnothing except the tinkle of water among the rocks and the plovercalling from some hidden marsh. At daybreak I shot a ptarmigan whichhad walked into camp, and the shot set the echoes yelling among themountains. 

William, sullen and heavy-eyed, dressed the bird, and we broiled itfor breakfast. 

Neither he nor I alluded to the sound we had heard the night before;he boiled water and cleaned up the mess-kit, and I pottered aboutamong the rocks for another ptarmigan. Wearying of this, presently, Ireturned to the mules and William, and sat down for a smoke. 

"It strikes me, " I said, "that our instructions to 'await furtherorders' are idiotic. How are we to receive 'further orders' here?"

William did not know. 

"You don't suppose, " said I, in sudden disgust, "that Miss Smawlbelieves there is a summer hotel and daily mail service in the HudsonMountains?"

William thought perhaps she did suppose something of the sort. 

It irritated me beyond measure to find myself at last on the veryborder of the unknown country, and yet checked, held back, by theirresponsible orders of a maiden lady named Smawl. However, my salarydepended upon the whim of that maiden lady, and although I fussed andfumed and glared at the mountains through my glasses, I realized thatI could not stir without the permission of Miss Smawl. At times thisgrotesque situation became almost unbearable, and I often went away bymyself and indulged in fantasies, firing my gun off and pretending Ihad hit Miss Smawl by mistake. At such moments I would imagine I wasfree at last to plunge into the strange country, and I would squat ona rock and dream of bagging my first mammoth. 

The time passed heavily; the tension increased with each new day. Ishot ptarmigan and kept our table supplied with brook-trout. Williamchopped wood, conversed with his mules, and cooked very badly. 

"See here, " I said, one morning; "we have been in camp a week to-day, and I can't stand your cooking another minute!"

William, who was washing a saucepan, looked up and begged mesarcastically to accept the _cordon bleu_. But I know only how to cookeggs, and there were no eggs within some hundred miles. 

To get the flavor of the breakfast out of my mouth I walked up to myfavorite hillock and sat down for a smoke. The next moment, however, Iwas on my feet, cheering excitedly and shouting for William. 

"Here come 'further instructions' at last!" I cried, pointing to thesouthward, where two dots on the grassy plain were imperceptiblymoving in our direction. 

"People on mules, " said William, without enthusiasm. 

"They must be messengers for us!" I cried, in chaste joy. "Threecheers for the northward trail, William, and the mischief takeMiss--Well, never mind now, " I added. 

"On them approachin' mules, " observed William, "there is wimmen. "

I stared at him for a second, then attempted to strike him. He dodgedwearily and repeated his incredible remark: "Ya-as, thereis--wimmen--two female ladies onto them there mules. "

"Bring me my glasses!" I said, hoarsely; "bring me those glasses, William, because I shall destroy you if you don't!"

Somewhat awed by my calm fury, he hastened back to camp and returnedwith the binoculars. It was a breathless moment. I adjusted the lenseswith a steady hand and raised them. 

Now, of all unexpected sights my fate may reserve for me in thefuture, I trust--nay, I know--that none can ever prove as unwelcome asthe sight I perceived through my binoculars. For upon the backs ofthose distant mules were two women, and the first one was Miss Smawl!

Upon her head she wore a helmet, from which fluttered a green veil. Otherwise she was clothed in tweeds; and at moments she beat upon hermule with a thick umbrella. 

Surfeited with the sickening spectacle, I sat down on a rock and triedto cry. 

"I told yer so, " observed William; but I was too tired to attack him. 

When the caravan rode into camp I was myself again, smilingly preparedfor the worst, and I advanced, cap in hand, followed furtively byWilliam. 

"Welcome, " I said, violently injecting joy into my voice. "Welcome, Professor Smawl, to the Hudson Mountains!"

"Kindly take my mule, " she said, climbing down to mother earth. 

"William, " I said, with dignity, "take the lady's mule. "

Miss Smawl gave me a stolid glance, then made directly for thecamp-fire, where a kettle of game-broth simmered over the coals. Thelast I saw of her she was smelling of it, and I turned my back andadvanced towards the second lady pilgrim, prepared to be civil untilsnubbed. 

Now, it is quite certain that never before had William Spike or Ibeheld so much feminine loveliness in one human body on the back of amule. She was clad in the daintiest of shooting-kilts, yet there wasnothing mannish about her except the way she rode the mule, and thatonly accentuated her adorable femininity. 

I remembered what Professor Lesard had said about blue stockings--butMiss Dorothy Van Twiller's were gray, turned over at the tops, anddisappearing into canvas spats buckled across a pair of slimshooting-boots. 

"Welcome, " said I, attempting to restrain a too violent cordiality. "Welcome, Professor Van Twiller, to the Hudson Mountains. "

"Thank you, " she replied, accepting my assistance very sweetly; "it isa pleasure to meet a human being again. "

I glanced at Miss Smawl. She was eating game-broth, but she resembleda human being in a general way. 

"I should very much like to wash my hands, " said Professor VanTwiller, drawing the buckskin gloves from her slim fingers. 

I brought towels and soap and conducted her to the brook. 

She called to Professor Smawl to join her, and her voice wascrystalline; Professor Smawl declined, and her voice was batrachian. 

"She is so hungry!" observed Miss Van Twiller. "I am very thankful weare here at last, for we've had a horrid time. You see, we neither ofus know how to cook. "

I wondered what they would say to William's cooking, but I held mypeace and retired, leaving the little brook to mirror the sweetestface that was ever bathed in water. 

VIII

That afternoon our expedition, in two sections, moved forward. Thefirst section comprised myself and all the mules; the second sectionwas commanded by Professor Smawl, followed by Professor Van Twiller, armed with a tiny shot-gun. William, loaded down with the ladies'toilet articles, skulked in the rear. I say skulked; there was noother word for it. 

"So you're a guide, are you?" observed Professor Smawl when William, cap in hand, had approached her with well-meant advice. "The woods arefull of lazy guides. Pick up those Gladstone bags! I'll do the guidingfor this expedition. "

Made cautious by William's humiliation, I associated with the mulesexclusively. Nevertheless, Professor Smawl had her hard eyes on me, and I realized she meant mischief. 

The encounter took place just as I, driving the five mules, enteredthe great mountain gateway, thrilled with anticipation which almostamounted to foreboding. As I was about to set foot across theimaginary frontier which divided the world from the unknown land, Professor Smawl hailed me and I halted until she came up. 

"As commander of this expedition, " she said, somewhat out of breath, "I desire to be the first living creature who has ever set footbehind the Graham Glacier. Kindly step aside, young sir!"

"Madam, " said I, rigid with disappointment, "my guide, William Spike, entered that unknown land a year ago. "

"He _says_ he did, " sneered Professor Smawl. 

"As you like, " I replied; "but it is scarcely generous to forestallthe person whose stupidity gave you the clew to this unexploredregion. "

"You mean yourself?" she asked, with a stony stare. 

"I do, " said I, firmly. 

Her little, hard eyes grew harder, and she clutched her umbrella untilthe steel ribs crackled. 

"Young man, " she said, insolently; "if I could have gotten rid of youI should have done so the day I was appointed president. But ProfessorFarrago refused to resign unless your position was assured, subject, of course, to your good behavior. Frankly, I don't like you, and Iconsider your views on science ridiculous, and if an opportunitypresents itself I will be most happy to request your resignation. Kindly collect your mules and follow me. "

Mortified beyond measure, I collected my mules and followed mypresident into the strange country behind the Hudson Mountains--I whohad aspired to lead, compelled to follow in the rear, driving mules. 

The journey was monotonous at first, but we shortly ascended a ridgefrom which we could see, stretching out below us, the wildernesswhere, save the feet of William Spike, no human feet had passed. 

As for me, tingling with enthusiasm, I forgot my chagrin, I forgot thegross injustice, I forgot my mules. "Excelsior!" I cried, running upand down the ridge in uncontrollable excitement at the sublimespectacle of forest, mountain, and valley all set with little lakes. 

"Excelsior!" repeated an excited voice at my side, and Professor VanTwiller sprang to the ridge beside me, her eyes bright as stars. 

Exalted, inspired by the mysterious beauty of the view, we claspedhands and ran up and down the grassy ridge. 

"That will do, " said Professor Smawl, coldly, as we raced about like apair of distracted kittens. The chilling voice broke the spell; Idropped Professor Van Twiller's hand and sat down on a bowlder, achingwith wrath. 

Late that afternoon we halted beside a tiny lake, deep in the unknownwilderness, where purple and scarlet bergamot choked the shores andthe spruce-partridge strutted fearlessly under our very feet. Here wepitched our two tents. The afternoon sun slanted through the pines;the lake glittered; acres of golden brake perfumed the forest silence, broken only at rare intervals by the distant thunder of a partridgedrumming. 

Professor Smawl ate heavily and retired to her tent to lie torpiduntil evening. William drove the unloaded mules into an intervale fullof sun-cured, fragrant grasses; I sat down beside Professor VanTwiller. 

The wilderness is electric. Once within the influence of its currents, human beings become positively or negatively charged, violentlyattracting or repelling each other. 

"There is something the matter with this air, " said Professor VanTwiller. "It makes me feel as though I were desperately enamoured ofthe entire human race. "

She leaned back against a pine, smiling vaguely, and crossing one kneeover the other. 

Now I am not bold by temperament, and, normally, I fear ladies. Therefore it surprised me to hear myself begin a frivolous _causerie_, replying to her pretty epigrams with epigrams of my own, advancing tothe borderland of badinage, fearlessly conducting her and myself overthat delicate frontier to meet upon the terrain of undisguisedflirtation. 

It was clear that she was out for a holiday. The seriousness andrestraints of twenty-two years she had left behind her in thecivilized world, and now, with a shrug of her young shoulders, sheunloosened her burden of reticence, dignity, and responsibility andlet the whole load fall with a discreet thud. 

"Even hares go mad in March, " she said, seriously. "I know you intendto flirt with me--and I don't care. Anyway, there's nothing else todo, is there?"

"Suppose, " said I, solemnly, "I should take you behind that big treeand attempt to kiss you!"

The prospect did not appear to appall her, so I looked around withthat sneaking yet conciliatory caution peculiar to young men who arenovices in the art. Before I had satisfied myself that neither Williamnor the mules were observing us, Professor Van Twiller rose to herfeet and took a short step backward. 

"Let's set traps for a dingue, " she said, "will you?"

I looked at the big tree, undecided. "Come on, " she said; "I'll showyou how. " And away we went into the woods, she leading, her kiltsflashing through the golden half-light. 

Now I had not the faintest notion how to trap the dingue, butProfessor Van Twiller asserted that it formerly fed on the tender tipsof the spruce, quoting Darwin as her authority. 

So we gathered a bushel of spruce-tips, piled them on the bank of alittle stream, then built a miniature stockade around the bait, a foothigh. I roofed this with hemlock, then laboriously whittled out andadjusted a swinging shutter for the entrance, setting it on springytwigs. 

"The dingue, you know, was supposed to live in the water, " she said, kneeling beside me over our trap. 

I took her little hand and thanked her for the information. 

"Doubtless, " she said, enthusiastically, "a dingue will come out ofthe lake to-night to feed on our spruce-tips. Then, " she added, "we'vegot him. "

"True!" I said, earnestly, and pressed her fingers very gently. 

Her face was turned a little away; I don't remember what she said; Idon't remember that she said anything. A faint rose-tint stole overher cheek. A few moments later she said: "You must not do that again. "

It was quite late when we strolled back to camp. Long before we camein sight of the twin tents we heard a deep voice bawling our names. Itwas Professor Smawl, and she pounced upon Dorothy and drove herignominiously into the tent. 

"As for you, " she said, in hollow tones, "you may explain yourconduct at once, or place your resignation at my disposal. "

But somehow or other I appeared to be temporarily lost to shame, and Ionly smiled at my infuriated president, and entered my own tent with astep that was distinctly frolicsome. 

"Billy, " said I to William Spike, who regarded me morosely from thedepths of the tent, "I'm going out to bag a mammoth to-morrow, sokindly clean my elephant-gun and bring an axe to chop out the tusks. "

That night Professor Smawl complained bitterly of the cooking, but asneither Dorothy nor I knew how to improve it, she revenged herself onus by eating everything on the table and retiring to bed, takingDorothy with her. 

I could not sleep very well; the mosquitoes were intrusive, andProfessor Smawl dreamed she was a pack of wolves and yelped in hersleep. 

"Bird, ain't she?" said William, roused from slumber by her weirdnoises. 

Dorothy, much frightened, crawled out of her tent, where herblanket-mate still dreamed dyspeptically, and William and I made hercomfortable by the camp-fire. 

It takes a pretty girl to look pretty half asleep in a blanket. 

"Are you sure you are quite well?" I asked her. 

To make sure, I tested her pulse. For an hour it varied more or less, but without alarming either of us. Then she went back to bed and I satalone by the camp-fire. 

Towards midnight I suddenly began to feel that strange, distantvibration that I had once before felt. As before, the vibration grewon the still air, increasing in volume until it became a sound, thendied out into silence. 

I rose and stole into my tent. 

William, white as death, lay in his corner, weeping in his sleep. 

I roused him remorselessly, and he sat up scowling, but refused totell me what he had been dreaming. 

"Was it about that third thing you saw--" I began. But he snarled upat me like a startled animal, and I was obliged to go to bed and tossabout and speculate. 

The next morning it rained. Dorothy and I visited our dingue-trap butfound nothing in it. We were inclined, however, to stay out in therain behind a big tree, but Professor Smawl vetoed that propositionand sent me off to supply the larder with fresh meat. 

I returned, mad and wet, with a dozen partridges and a whitehare--brown at that season--and William cooked them vilely. 

"I can taste the feathers!" said Professor Smawl, indignantly. 

"There is no accounting for taste, " I said, with a polite gesture ofdeprecation; "personally, I find feathers unpalatable. "

"You may hand in your resignation this evening!" cried ProfessorSmawl, in hollow tones of passion. 

I passed her the pancakes with a cheerful smile, and flippantlypressed the hand next me. Unexpectedly it proved to be William'ssticky fist, and Dorothy and I laughed until her tears ran intoProfessor Smawl's coffee-cup--an accident which kindled her wrath tored heat, and she requested my resignation five times during theevening. 

The next day it rained again, more or less. Professor Smawl complainedof the cooking, demanded my resignation, and finally marched out toexplore, lugging the reluctant William with her. Dorothy and I satdown behind the largest tree we could find. 

I don't remember what we were saying when a peculiar sound interruptedus, and we listened earnestly. 

It was like a bell in the woods, ding-dong! ding-dong! ding-dong!--alow, mellow, golden harmony, coming nearer, then stopping. 

I clasped Dorothy in my arms in my excitement. 

"It is the note of the dingue!" I whispered, "and that explains itsname, handed down from remote ages along with the names of thebehemoth and the coney. It was because of its bell-like cry that itwas named! Darling!" I cried, forgetting our short acquaintance, "wehave made a discovery that the whole world will ring with!"

Hand in hand we tiptoed through the forest to our trap. There wassomething in it that took fright at our approach and rushedpanic-stricken round and round the interior of the trap, uttering itsalarm-note, which sounded like the jangling of a whole string ofbells. 

I seized the strangely beautiful creature; it neither attempted tobite nor scratch, but crouched in my arms, trembling and eying me. 

Delighted with the lovely, tame animal, we bore it tenderly back tothe camp and placed it on my blanket. Hand in hand we stood before it, awed by the sight of this beast, so long believed to be extinct. 

"It is too good to be true, " sighed Dorothy, clasping her white handsunder her chin and gazing at the dingue in rapture. 

"Yes, " said I, solemnly, "you and I, my child, are face to face withthe fabled dingue--_Dingus solitarius_! Let us continue to gaze at it, reverently, prayerfully, humbly--"

Dorothy yawned--probably with excitement. 

We were still mutely adoring the dingue when Professor Smawl burstinto the tent at a hand-gallop, bawling hoarsely for her kodak andnote-book. 

Dorothy seized her triumphantly by the arm and pointed at the dingue, which appeared to be frightened to death. 

"What!" cried Professor Smawl, scornfully; "_that_ a dingue? Rubbish!"

"Madam, " I said, firmly, "it is a dingue! It's a monodactyl! See! Ithas but a single toe!"

"Bosh!" she retorted; "it's got four!"

"Four!" I repeated, blankly. 

"Yes; one on each foot!"

"Of course, " I said; "you didn't suppose a monodactyl meant a beastwith one leg and one toe!"

But she laughed hatefully and declared it was a woodchuck. 

We squabbled for a while until I saw the significance of her attitude. The unfortunate woman wished to find a dingue first and be accreditedwith the discovery. 

I lifted the dingue in both hands and shook the creature gently, untilthe chiming ding-dong of its protestations filled our ears like sweetbells jangled out of tune. 

Pale with rage at this final proof of the dingue's identity, sheseized her camera and note-book. 

"I haven't any time to waste over that musical woodchuck!" sheshouted, and bounced out of the tent. 

"What have you discovered, dear?" cried Dorothy, running after her. 

"A mammoth!" bawled Professor Smawl, triumphantly; "and I'm going tophotograph him!"

Neither Dorothy nor I believed her. We watched the flight of theinfatuated woman in silence. 

And now, at last, the tragic shadow falls over my paper as I write. Iwas never passionately attached to Professor Smawl, yet I would gladlyrefrain from chronicling the episode that must follow if, as I havehitherto attempted, I succeed in sticking to the unornamented truth. 

I have said that neither Dorothy nor I believed her. I don't know why, unless it was that we had not yet made up our minds to believe thatthe mammoth still existed on earth. So, when Professor Smawldisappeared in the forest, scuttling through the underbrush like ademoralized hen, we viewed her flight with unconcern. There was alarge tree in the neighborhood--a pleasant shelter in case of rain. Sowe sat down behind it, although the sun was shining fiercely. 

It was one of those peaceful afternoons in the wilderness when thewhole forest dreams, and the shadows are asleep and every littleleaflet takes a nap. Under the still tree-tops the dappled sunlight, motionless, soaked the sod; the forest-flies no longer whirled incircles, but sat sunning their wings on slender twig-tips. 

The heat was sweet and spicy; the sun drew out the delicate essenceof gum and sap, warming volatile juices until they exhaled through thearomatic bark. 

The sun went down into the wilderness; the forest stirred in itssleep; a fish splashed in the lake. The spell was broken. Presentlythe wind began to rise somewhere far away in the unknown land. I heardit coming, nearer, nearer--a brisk wind that grew heavier and blewharder as it neared us--a gale that swept distant branches--a furiousgale that set limbs clashing and cracking, nearer and nearer. Crack!and the gale grew to a hurricane, trampling trees like dead twigs!Crack! Crackle! Crash! Crash!

_Was it the wind?_

With the roaring in my ears I sprang up, staring into the forestvista, and at the same instant, out of the crashing forest, spedProfessor Smawl, skirts tucked up, thin legs flying likebicycle-spokes. I shouted, but the crashing drowned my voice. Then allat once the solid earth began to shake, and with the rush and roar ofa tornado a gigantic living thing burst out of the forest before oureyes--a vast shadowy bulk that rocked and rolled along, mowing downtrees in its course. 

Two great crescents of ivory curved from its head; its back sweptthrough the tossing tree-tops. Once it bellowed like a gun fired froma high bastion. 

The apparition passed with the noise of thunder rolling on towards theends of the earth. Crack! crash! went the trees, the tempest sweptaway in a rolling volley of reports, distant, more distant, until, long after the tumult had deadened, then ceased, the stunned forestechoed with the fall of mangled branches slowly dropping. 

That evening an agitated young couple sat close together in thedeserted camp, calling timidly at intervals for Professor Smawl andWilliam Spike. I say timidly, because it is correct; we did not careto have a mammoth respond to our calls. The lurking echoes across thelake answered our cries; the full moon came up over the forest to lookat us. We were not much to look at. Dorothy was moistening my shoulderwith unfeigned tears, and I, afraid to light the fire, sat hunched upunder the common blanket, wildly examining the darkness around us. 

Chilled to the spinal marrow, I watched the gray lights whiten in theeast. A single bird awoke in the wilderness. I saw the nearer treeslooming in the mist, and the silver fog rolling on the lake. 

All night long the darkness had vibrated with the strange monotonewhich I had heard the first night, camping at the gate of the unknownland. My brain seemed to echo that subtle harmony which rings in theauricular labyrinth after sound has ceased. 

There are ghosts of sound which return to haunt long after sound isdead. It was these voiceless spectres of a voice long dead thatstirred the transparent silence, intoning toneless tones. 

I think I make myself clear. 

It was an uncanny night; morning whitened the east; gray daylightstole into the woods, blotting the shadows to paler tints. It wasnearly mid-day before the sun became visible through the fine-spun webof mist--a pale spot of gilt in the zenith. 

By this pallid light I labored to strike the two empty tents, gatherup our equipments and pack them on our five mules. Dorothy aided mebravely, whimpering when I spoke of Professor Smawl and William Spike, but abating nothing of her industry until we had the mules loaded andI was ready to drive them, Heaven knows whither. 

"Where shall we go?" quavered Dorothy, sitting on a log with thedingue in her lap. 

One thing was certain; this mammoth-ridden land was no place forwomen, and I told her so. 

We placed the dingue in a basket and tied it around the leading mule'sneck. Immediately the dingue, alarmed, began dingling like a cow-bell. It acted like a charm on the other mules, and they gravely filed offafter their leader, following the bell. Dorothy and I, hand in hand, brought up the rear. 

I shall never forget that scene in the forest--the gray arch of theheavens swimming in mist through which the sun peered shiftily, thetall pines wavering through the fog, the preoccupied mules marchingsingle file, the foggy bell-note of the gentle dingue in its swingingbasket, and Dorothy, limp kilts dripping with dew, plodding throughthe white dusk. 

We followed the terrible tornado-path which the mammoth had left inits wake, but there were no traces of its human victims--neither onejot of Professor Smawl nor one solitary tittle of William Spike. 

And now I would be glad to end this chapter if I could; I would gladlyleave myself as I was, there in the misty forest, with an armencircling the slender body of my little companion, and the mulesmoving in a monotonous line, and the dingue discreetly jingling--butagain that menacing shadow falls across my page, and truth bids metell all, and I, the slave of accuracy, must remember my vows as thedauntless disciple of truth. 

Towards sunset--or that pale parody of sunset which set the forestswimming in a ghastly, colorless haze--the mammoth's trail of ruinbrought us suddenly out of the trees to the shore of a great sheet ofwater. 

It was a desolate spot; northward a chaos of sombre peaks rose, piledup like thunder-clouds along the horizon; east and south the darkeningwilderness spread like a pall. Westward, crawling out into the mistfrom our very feet, the gray waste of water moved under the dull sky, and flat waves slapped the squatting rocks, heavy with slime. 

And now I understood why the trail of the mammoth continued straightinto the lake, for on either hand black, filthy tamarack swamps layunder ghostly sheets of mist. I strove to creep out into the bog, seeking a footing, but the swamp quaked and the smooth surfacetrembled like jelly in a bowl. A stick thrust into the slime sank intounknown depths. 

Vaguely alarmed, I gained the firm land again and looked around, believing there was no road open but the desolate trail we hadtraversed. But I was in error; already the leading mule was wading outinto the water, and the others, one by one, followed. 

How wide the lake might be we could not tell, because the band of foghung across the water like a curtain. Yet out into this flat, shallowvoid our mules went steadily, slop! slop! slop! in single file. Already they were growing indistinct in the fog, so I bade Dorothyhasten and take off her shoes and stockings. 

She was ready before I was, I having to unlace my shooting-boots, andshe stepped out into the water, kilts fluttering, moving her whitefeet cautiously. In a moment I was beside her, and we waded forward, sounding the shallow water with our poles. 

When the water had risen to Dorothy's knees I hesitated, alarmed. Butwhen we attempted to retrace our steps we could not find the shoreagain, for the blank mist shrouded everything, and the water deepenedat every step. 

I halted and listened for the mules. Far away in the fog I heard adull splashing, receding as I listened. After a while all sound diedaway, and a slow horror stole over me--a horror that froze the littlenet-work of veins in every limb. A step to the right and the waterrose to my knees; a step to the left and the cold, thin circle of theflood chilled my breast. Suddenly Dorothy screamed, and the nextmoment a far cry answered--a far, sweet cry that seemed to come fromthe sky, like the rushing harmony of the world's swift winds. Then thecurtain of fog before us lighted up from behind; shadows moved on themisty screen, outlines of trees and grassy shores, and tiny birdsflying. Thrown on the vapory curtain, in silhouette, a man and a womanpassed under the lovely trees, arms about each other's necks; nearthem the shadows of five mules grazed peacefully; a dingue gambolledclose by. 

"It is a mirage!" I muttered, but my voice made no sound. Slowly thelight behind the fog died out; the vapor around us turned to rose, then dissolved, while mile on mile of a limitless sea spread awaytill, like a quick line pencilled at a stroke, the horizon cut sky andsea in half, and before us lay an ocean from which towered a mountainof snow--or a gigantic berg of milky ice--for it was moving. 

"Good Heavens, " I shrieked; "it is alive!"

At the sound of my crazed cry the mountain of snow became a pillar, towering to the clouds, and a wave of golden glory drenched the figureto its knees! Figure? Yes--for a colossal arm shot across the sky, then curved back in exquisite grace to a head of awful beauty--awoman's head, with eyes like the blue lake of heaven--ay, a woman'ssplendid form, upright from the sky to the earth, knee-deep in thesea. The evening clouds drifted across her brow; her shimmering hairlighted the world beneath with sunset. Then, shading her white browwith one hand, she bent, and with the other hand dipped in the sea, she sent a wave rolling at us. Straight out of the horizon it sped--aripple that grew to a wave, then to a furious breaker which caught usup in a whirl of foam, bearing us onward, faster, faster, swiftlyflying through leagues of spray until consciousness ceased and all wasblank. 

Yet ere my senses fled I heard again that strange cry--that sweet, thrilling harmony rushing out over the foaming waters, filling earthand sky with its soundless vibrations. 

And I knew it was the hail of the Spirit of the North warning us backto life again. 

 * * * * *

Looking back, now, over the days that passed before we staggered intothe Hudson Bay outpost at Gravel Cove, I am inclined to believe thatneither Dorothy nor I were clothed entirely in our proper minds--or, if we were, our minds, no doubt, must have been in the same conditionas our clothing. I remember shooting ptarmigan, and that we ate them;flashes of memory recall the steady downpour of rain through theendless twilight of shaggy forests; dim days on the foggy tundra, mud-holes from which the wild ducks rose in thousands; then thestunted hemlocks, then the forest again. And I do not even recall themoment when, at last, stumbling into the smooth path left by theGraham Glacier, we crawled through the mountain-wall, out of theunknown land, and once more into a world protected by the LordAlmighty. 

A hunting-party of Elbon Indians brought us in to the post, andeverybody was most kind--that I remember, just before going intoseveral weeks of unpleasant delirium mercifully mitigated withunconsciousness. 

Curiously enough, Professor Van Twiller was not very much battered, physically, for I had carried her for days, pickaback. But the awfulexperience had produced a shock which resulted in a nervous conditionthat lasted so long after she returned to New York that the wealthyand eminent specialist who attended her insisted upon taking her tothe Riviera and marrying her. I sometimes wonder--but, as I have said, such reflections have no place in these austere pages. 

However, anybody, I fancy, is at liberty to speculate upon the fate ofthe late Professor Smawl and William Spike, and upon the mules and thegentle dingue. Personally, I am convinced that the suggestivesilhouettes I saw on that ghastly curtain of fog were cast bybeatified beings in some earthly paradise--a mirage of bliss of whichwe caught but the colorless shadow-shapes floating 'twixt sea andsky. 

At all events, neither Professor Smawl nor her William Spike everreturned; no exploring expedition has found a trace of mule or lady, of William or the dingue. The new expedition to be organized byBarnard College may penetrate still farther. I suppose that, when thetime comes, I shall be expected to volunteer. But Professor VanTwiller is married, and William and Professor Smawl ought to be, andaltogether, considering the mammoth and that gigantic and splendidapparition that bent from the zenith to the ocean and sent atidal-wave rolling from the palm of one white hand--I say, taking allthese various matters under consideration, I think I shall decide toremain in New York and continue writing for the scientificperiodicals. Besides, the mortifying experience at the ParisExposition has dampened even my perennially youthful enthusiasm. Andas for the late expedition to Florida, Heaven knows I am ready torepeat it--nay, I am already forming a plan for the rescue--but thoughI am prepared to encounter any danger for the sake of my belovedsuperior, Professor Farrago, I do not feel inclined to commitindiscretions in order to pry into secrets which, as I regard it, concern Professor Smawl and William Spike alone. 

But all this is, in a measure, premature. What I now have to relate isthe recital of an eye-witness to that most astonishing scandal whichoccurred during the recent exposition in Paris. 

IX

When the delegates were appointed to the International ScientificCongress at the Paris Exposition of 1900, how little did anybodyimagine that the great conference would end in the most giganticscandal that ever stirred two continents?

Yet, had it not been for the pair of American newspapers published inParis, this scandal would never have been aired, for the continentalpress is so well muzzled that when it bites its teeth merely meet inthe empty atmosphere with a discreet snap. 

But to the Yankee nothing excepting the Monroe Doctrine is sacred, andthe unsopped watch-dogs of the press bite right and left, unmuzzled. The biter bites--it is his profession--and that ends the affair; thebitee is bitten, and, in the deplorable argot of the hour, "it is upto him. "

So now that the scandal has been well aired and hung out to dry in theteeth of decency and the four winds, and as all the details have beencheerfully and grossly exaggerated, it is, perhaps, the proper momentfor the truth to be written by the only person whose knowledge of allthe facts in the affair entitles him to speak for himself as well asfor those honorable ladies and gentlemen whose names and titles havebeen so mercilessly criticised. 

These, then, are the simple facts:

The International Scientific Congress, now adjourned _sine die_, metat nine o'clock in the morning, May 3, 1900, in the Tasmanian Pavilionof the Paris Exposition. There were present the most famous scientistsof Great Britain, France, Germany, Russia, Italy, Switzerland, and theUnited States. 

His Royal Highness the Crown-Prince of Monaco presided. 

It is not necessary, now, to repeat the details of that preliminarymeeting. It is sufficient to say that committees representing thevarious known sciences were named and appointed by the Prince ofMonaco, who had been unanimously elected permanent chairman of theconference. It is the composition of a single committee that concernsus now, and that committee, representing the science which treats ofbird life, was made up as follows:

Chairman--His Royal Highness the Crown-Prince of Monaco. Members--SirPeter Grebe, Great Britain; Baron de Becasse, France; his RoyalHighness King Christian, of Finland; the Countess d'Alzette, ofBelgium; and I, from the United States, representing the SmithsonianInstitution and the Bronx Park Zoological Society of New York. 

This, then, was the composition of that now notorious ornithologicalcommittee, a modest, earnest, self-effacing little band of workers, bound together--in the beginning--by those ties of mutual respect andesteem which unite all laborers in the vineyard of science. 

From the first meeting of our committee, science, the great leveller, left no artificial barriers of rank or title standing between us. Wewere enthusiasts in our love for ornithology; we found new inspirationin the democracy of our common interests. 

As for me, I chatted with my fellows, feeling no restraint myself andperceiving none. The King of Finland and I discussed his latestmonograph on the speckled titmouse, and I was glad to agree with theKing in all his theories concerning the nesting habits of thatimportant bird. 

Sir Peter Grebe, a large, red gentleman in tweeds, read us some noteshe had made on the domestic hen and her reasons for running ahead of ahorse and wagon instead of stepping aside to let the disturbingvehicle pass. 

The Crown-Prince of Monaco took issue with Sir Peter; so did the Baronde Becasse; and we were entertained by a friendly and marvellouslyinteresting three-cornered dispute, shared in by three of the mostprofound thinkers of the century. 

I shall never forget the brilliancy of that argument, nor the modest, good-humored retorts which gave us all a glimpse into depths oferudition which impressed us profoundly and set the seal on the bondswhich held us so closely together. 

Alas, that the seal should ever have been broken! Alas, that theglittering apple of discord should have been flung into ourmidst!--no, not flung, but gently rolled under our noses by the glovedfingers of the lovely Countess d'Alzette. 

"Messieurs, " said the fair Countess, when all present, excepting sheand I, had touched upon or indicated the subjects which they hadprepared to present to the congress--"messieurs mes confrères, I havebeen requested by our distinguished chairman, the Crown-Prince ofMonaco, to submit to your judgment the subject which, by favor of theKing of the Belgians, I have prepared to present to the InternationalScientific Congress. "

She made a pretty courtesy as she named her own sovereign, and we allrose out of respect to that most austere and moral ruler the King ofBelgium. 

"But, " she said, with a charming smile of depreciation, "I am very, very much afraid that the subject which I have chosen may not meetwith your approval, gentlemen. "

She stood there in her dainty Parisian gown and bonnet, shaking herpretty head uncertainly, a smile on her lips, her small, glovedfingers interlocked. 

"Oh, I know how dreadful it would be if this great congress should becompelled to listen to any hoax like that which Monsieur de Rougemontimposed on the British Royal Society, " she said, gravely; "and becausethe subject of my paper is as strange as the strangest phenomenonalleged to have been noted by Monsieur de Rougemont, I hesitate--"

She glanced at the silent listeners around her. Sir Peter's red facehad hardened; the King of Finland frowned slightly; the Crown-Princeof Monaco and Baron de Becasse wore anxious smiles. But when herviolet eyes met mine I gave her a glance of encouragement, and thatglance, I am forced to confess, was not dictated by scientificapproval, but by something that never entirely dries up in themustiest and dustiest of savants--the old Adam implanted in us all. 

Now, I knew perfectly well what her subject must be; so did every manpresent. For it was no secret that his Majesty of Belgium had beenswindled by some natives in Tasmania, and had paid a very large sum ofmoney for a skin of that gigantic bird, the ux, which has been sooften reported to exist among the inaccessible peaks of the TasmanianMountains. Needless, perhaps, to say that the skin proved a fraud, being nothing more than a Barnum contrivance made up out of the skinsof a dozen ostriches and cassowaries, and most cleverly put togetherby Chinese workmen; at least, such was the report made on it by SirPeter Grebe, who had been sent by the British Society to Antwerp toexamine the acquisition. Needless, also, perhaps, to say that KingLeopold, of Belgium, stoutly maintained that the skin of the ux wasgenuine from beak to claw. 

For six months there had been a most serious difference of opinionamong European ornithologists concerning the famous ux in the AntwerpMuseum; and this difference had promised to result in an open quarrelbetween a few Belgian savants on one side and-all Europe and GreatBritain on the other. 

Scientists have a deep--rooted horror of anything that touches oncharlatanism; the taint of trickery not only alarms them, but drivesthem away from any suspicious subject, and usually ruins, scientifically speaking, the person who has introduced the subject fordiscussion. 

Therefore, it took no little courage for the Countess d'Alzette totouch, with her dainty gloves, a subject which every scientist inEurope, with scarcely an exception, had pronounced fraudulent andunworthy of investigation. And to bring it before the greatInternational Congress required more courage still; for the personwho could face, in executive session, the most brilliant intellects inthe world, and openly profess faith in a Barnumized bird skin, eitherhad no scientific reputation to lose or was possessed of a bravery farabove that of the savants who composed the audience. 

Now, when the pretty Countess caught a flash of encouragement in myglance she turned rosy with gratification and surprise. Clearly, shehad not expected to find a single ally in the entire congress. Herquick smile of gratitude touched me, and made me ashamed, too, for Ihad encouraged her out of the pure love of mischief, hoping to hearthe whole matter threshed before the congress and so have it settledonce for all. It was a thoughtless thing to do on my part. I shouldhave remembered the consequences to the Countess if it were proventhat she had been championing a fraud. The ruffled dignity of thecongress would never forgive her; her scientific career wouldpractically be at an end, because her theories and observations couldno longer command respect or even the attention of those who knew thatshe herself had once been deceived by a palpable fraud. 

I looked at her guiltily, already ashamed of myself for encouragingher to her destruction. How lovely and innocent she appeared, standingthere reading her notes in a low, clear voice, fresh as a child's, with now and then a delicious upward sweep of her long, dark lashes. 

With a start I came to my senses and bestowed a pinch on myself. Thiswas neither the time nor the place to sentimentalize over a girlishbeauty whose small, Parisian head was crammed full of foolish, bravetheories concerning an imposition which her aged sovereign had beenunable to detect. 

I saw the gathering frown on the King of Finland's dark face; I sawSir Peter Grebe grow redder and redder, and press his thick lipstogether to control the angry "Bosh!" which need not have been utteredto have been understood. The Baron de Becasse wore a painfully neutralsmile, which froze his face into a quaint gargoyle; the Crown-Princeof Monaco looked at his polished fingernails with a startled yetabstracted resignation. Clearly the young Countess had not asympathizer in the committee. 

Something--perhaps it was the latent chivalry which exists imbedded inus all, perhaps it was pity, perhaps a glimmering dawn of belief inthe ux skin--set my thoughts working very quickly. 

The Countess d'Alzette finished her notes, then glanced around with adeprecating smile, which died out on her lips when she perceived thesilent and stony hostility of her fellow-scientists. A quickexpression of alarm came into her lovely eyes. Would they vote againstgiving her a hearing before the congress? It required a unanimous voteto reject a subject. She turned her eyes on me. 

I rose, red as fire, my head humming with a chaos of ideas alldisordered and vague, yet whirling along in a single, resistlesscurrent. I had come to the congress prepared to deliver a monograph onthe great auk; but now the subject went overboard as the birdsthemselves had, and I found myself pleading with the committee to givethe Countess a hearing on the ux. 

"Why not?" I exclaimed, warmly. "It is established beyond questionthat the ux does exist in Tasmania. Wallace saw several uxen, throughhis telescope, walking about upon the inaccessible heights of theTasmanian Mountains. Darwin acknowledged that the bird exists;Professor Farrago has published a pamphlet containing an accumulationof all data bearing upon the ux. Why should not Madame la Comtesse beheard by the entire congress?"

I looked at Sir Peter Grebe. 

"Have _you_ seen this alleged bird skin in the Antwerp Museum?" heasked, perspiring with indignation. 

"Yes, I have, " said I. "It has been patched up, but how are we to knowthat the skin did not require patching? I have not found that ostrichskin has been used. It is true that the Tasmanians may have shot thebird to pieces and mended the skin with bits of cassowary hide hereand there. But the greater part of the skin, and the beak and claws, are, in my estimation, well worth the serious attention of savants. Topronounce them fraudulent is, in my opinion, rash and premature. "

I mopped my brow; I was in for it now. I had thrown in my reputationwith the reputation of the Countess. 

The displeasure and astonishment of my confrères was unmistakable. Inthe midst of a strained silence I moved that a vote be taken upon theadvisability of a hearing before the congress on the subject of theux. After a pause the young Countess, pale and determined, seconded mymotion. The result of the balloting was a foregone conclusion; theCountess had one vote--she herself refraining from voting--and thesubject was entered on the committee-book as acceptable and a date setfor the hearing before the International Congress. 

The effect of this vote on our little committee was most marked. Constraint took the place of cordiality, polite reserve replaced thatguileless and open-hearted courtesy with which our proceedings hadbegun. 

With icy politeness, the Crown-Prince of Monaco asked me to state thesubject of the paper I proposed to read before the congress, and Ireplied quietly that, as I was partly responsible for advocating thediscussion of the ux, I proposed to associate myself with the Countessd'Alzette in that matter--if Madame la Comtesse would accept the offerof a brother savant. 

"Indeed I will, " she said, impulsively, her blue eyes soft withgratitude. 

"Very well, " observed Sir Peter Grebe, swallowing his indignation andwaddling off towards the door; "I shall resign my position on thiscommittee--yes, I will, I tell you!"--as the King of Finland laid afatherly hand on Sir Peter's sleeve--"I'll not be made responsible forthis damn--"

He choked, sputtered, then bowed to the horrified Countess, askingpardon, and declaring that he yielded to nobody in respect for thegentler sex. And he retired with the Baron de Becasse. 

But out in the hallway I heard him explode. "Confound it! This is noplace for petticoats, Baron! And as for that Yankee ornithologist, he's hung himself with the Countess's corset--string--yes, he has!Don't tell me, Baron! The young idiot was all right until the Countesslooked at him, I tell you. Gad! how she crumpled him up with thoseblue eyes of hers! What the devil do women come into such committeesfor? Eh? It's an outrage, I tell you! Why, the whole world will jeerat us if we sit and listen to her monograph on that fraudulent bird!"

The young Countess, who was writing near the window, could not haveheard this outburst; but I heard it, and so did King Christian and theCrown-Prince of Monaco. 

"Lord, " thought I, "the Countess and I are in the frying-pan thistime. I'll do what I can to keep us both out of the fire. "

When the King and the Crown-Prince had made their adieux to theCountess, and she had responded, pale and serious, they came over towhere I was standing, looking out on the Seine. 

"Though we must differ from you, " said the King, kindly, "we wish youall success in this dangerous undertaking. "

I thanked him. 

"You are a young man to risk a reputation already established, "remarked the Crown-Prince, then added: "You are braver than I. Ridicule is a barrier to all knowledge, and, though we know that, weseekers after truth always bring up short at that barrier anddismount, not daring to put our hobbies to the fence. "

"One can but come a cropper, " said I. 

"And risk staking our hobbies? No, no, that would make us ridiculous;and ridicule kills in Europe. "

"It's somewhat deadly in America, too, " I said, smiling. 

"The more honor to you, " said the Crown-Prince, gravely. 

"Oh, I am not the only one, " I answered, lightly. "There is myconfrère, Professor Hyssop, who studies apparitions and braves acontempt and ridicule which none of us would dare challenge. WeYankees are learning slowly. Some day we will find the lost key to thefuture while Europe is sneering at those who are trying to pick thelock. "

When King Christian, of Finland, and the Crown-Prince of Monaco hadtaken their hats and sticks and departed, I glanced across the room atthe young Countess, who was now working rapidly on a type-writer, apparently quite oblivious of my presence. 

I looked out of the window again, and my gaze wandered over theexposition grounds. Gilt and scarlet and azure the palaces rose inevery direction, under a wilderness of fluttering flags. Towers, minarets, turrets, golden spires cut the blue sky; in the west thegaunt Eiffel Tower sprawled across the glittering Esplanade; behind itrose the solid golden dome of the Emperor's tomb, gilded once more bythe Almighty's sun, to amuse the living rabble while the deadslumbered in his imperial crypt, himself now but a relic for theamusement of the people whom he had despised. O tempora! O mores! ONapoleon!

Down under my window, in the asphalted court, the King of Finland wasentering his beautiful victoria. An adjutant, wearing a cocked hat andbrilliant uniform, mounted the box beside the green-and-gold coachman;the two postilions straightened up in their saddles; the four horsesdanced. Then, when the Crown-Prince of Monaco had taken a seat besidethe King, the carriage rolled away, and far down the quay I watched ituntil the flutter of the green-and-white plumes in the adjutant'scocked hat was all I could see of vanishing royalty. 

I was still musing there by the window, listening to the click andringing of the type-writer, when I suddenly became aware that theclicking had ceased, and, turning, I saw the young Countess standingbeside me. 

"Thank you for your chivalrous impulse to help me, " she said, frankly, holding out her bare hand. 

I bent over it. 

"I had not realized how desperate my case was, " she said, with asmile. "I supposed that they would at least give me a hearing. How canI thank you for your brave vote in my favor?"

"By giving me your confidence in this matter, " said I, gravely. "If weare to win, we must work together and work hard, madame. We areentering a struggle, not only to prove the genuineness of a bird skinand the existence of a bird which neither of us has ever seen, butalso a struggle which will either make us famous forever or render itimpossible for either of us ever again to face a scientific audience. "

"I know it, " she said, quietly "And I understand all the better howgallant a gentleman I have had the fortune to enlist in my cause. Believe me, had I not absolute confidence in my ability to prove theexistence of the ux I should not, selfish as I am, have accepted yourchivalrous offer to stand or fall with me. "

The subtle emotion in her voice touched a responsive chord in me. Ilooked at her earnestly; she raised her beautiful eyes to mine. 

"Will you help me?" she asked. 

Would I help her? Faith, I'd pass the balance of my life turningflip-flaps to please her. I did not attempt to undeceive myself; Irealized that the lightning had struck me--that I was desperately inlove with the young Countess from the tip of her bonnet to the toe ofher small, polished shoe. I was curiously cool about it, too, althoughmy heart gave a thump that nigh choked me, and I felt myself going redfrom temple to chin. 

If the Countess d'Alzette noticed it she gave no sign, unless the pinktint under her eyes, deepening, was a subtle signal of understandingto the signal in my eyes. 

"Suppose, " she said, "that I failed, before the congress, to prove mytheory? Suppose my investigations resulted in the exposure of a fraudand my name was held up to ridicule before all Europe? What wouldbecome of you, monsieur?"

I was silent. 

"You are already celebrated as the discoverer of the mammoth and thegreat auk, " she persisted. "You are young, enthusiastic, renowned, andyou have a future before you that anybody in the world might envy. "

I said nothing. 

"And yet, " she said, softly, "you risk all because you will not leavea young woman friendless among her confrères. It is not wise, monsieur; it is gallant and generous and impulsive, but it is notwisdom. Don Quixote rides no more in Europe, my friend. "

"He stays at home--seventy million of him--in America, " said I. 

After a moment she said, "I believe you, monsieur. "

"It is true enough, " I said, with a laugh. "We are the only people whotilt at windmills these days--we and our cousins, the British, whotaught us. "

I bowed gayly, and added:

"With your colors to wear, I shall have the honor of breaking a lanceagainst the biggest windmill in the world. "

"You mean the Citadel of Science, " she said, smiling. 

"And its rock-ribbed respectability, " I replied. 

She looked at me thoughtfully, rolling and unrolling the scroll in herhands. Then she sighed, smiled, and brightened, handing me the scroll. 

"Read it carefully, " she said; "it is an outline of the policy Isuggest that we follow. You will be surprised at some of thestatements. Yet every word is the truth. And, monsieur, your rewardfor the devotion you have offered will be no greater than you deserve, when you find yourself doubly famous for our joint monograph on theux. Without your vote in the committee I should have been denied ahearing, even though I produced proofs to support my theory. Iappreciate that; I do most truly appreciate the courage which promptedyou to defend a woman at the risk of your own ruin. Come to me thisevening at nine. I hold for you in store a surprise and pleasure whichyou do not dream of. "

"Ah, but I do, " I said, slowly, under the spell of her delicate beautyand enthusiasm. 

"How can you?" she said, laughing. "You don't know what awaits you atnine this evening?"

"You, " I said, fascinated. 

The color swept her face; she dropped me a deep courtesy. 

"At nine, then, " she said. "No. 8 Rue d'Alouette. "

I bowed, took my hat, gloves, and stick, and attended her to hercarriage below. 

Long after the blue-and-black victoria had whirled away down thecrowded quay I stood looking after it, mazed in the web of thatancient enchantment whose spell fell over the first man in Eden, andwhose sorcery shall not fail till the last man returns his soul. 

X

I lunched at my lodgings on the Quai Malthus, and I had but littleappetite, having fed upon such an unexpected variety of emotionsduring the morning. 

Now, although I was already heels over head in love, I do not believethat loss of appetite was the result of that alone. I was slowlybeginning to realize what my recent attitude might cost me, not onlyin an utter collapse of my scientific career, and the consequentmaterial ruin which was likely to follow, but in the loss of all myfriends at home. The Zoological Society of Bronx Park and theSmithsonian Institution of Washington had sent me as their trusteddelegate, leaving it entirely to me to choose the subject on which Iwas to speak before the International Congress. What, then, would betheir attitude when they learned that I had chosen to uphold thedangerous theory of the existence of the ux. 

Would they repudiate me and send another delegate to replace me? Wouldthey merely wash their hands of me and let me go to my owndestruction?

"I will know soon enough, " thought I, "for this morning's proceedingswill have been cabled to New York ere now, and read at thebreakfast-tables of every old, moss-grown naturalist in America beforeI see the Countess d'Alzette this evening. " And I drew from my pocketthe roll of paper which she had given me, and, lighting a cigar, layback in my chair to read it. 

The manuscript had been beautifully type-written, and I had no troublein following her brief, clear account of the circumstances under whichthe notorious ux-skin had been obtained. As for the story itself, itwas somewhat fishy, but I manfully swallowed my growing nervousnessand comforted myself with the belief of Darwin in the existence of theux, and the subsequent testimony of Wallace, who simply stated what hehad seen through his telescope, and then left it to others to identifythe enormous birds he described as he had observed them stalking abouton the snowy peaks of the Tasmanian Alps. 

My own knowledge of the ux was confined to a single circumstance. When, in 1897, I had gone to Tasmania with Professor Farrago, to makea report on the availability of the so-called "Tasmanian devil, " as asubstitute for the mongoose in the West Indies, I of course heard agreat deal of talk among the natives concerning the birds which theyaffirmed haunted the summits of the mountains. 

Our time in Tasmania was too limited to admit of an exploration then. But although we were perfectly aware that the summits of the TasmanianAlps are inaccessible, we certainly should have attempted to gain themhad not the time set for our departure arrived before we had completedthe investigation for which we were sent. 

One relic, however, I carried away with me. It was a single greenishbronzed feather, found high up in the mountains by a native, and soldto me for a somewhat large sum of money. 

Darwin believed the ux to be covered with greenish plumage; Wallacewas too far away to observe the color of the great birds; but all thenatives of Tasmania unite in affirming that the plumage of the ux isgreen. 

It was not only the color of this feather that made me an eagerpurchaser, it was the extraordinary length and size. I knew of noliving bird large enough to wear such a feather. As for the color, that might have been tampered with before I bought it, and, indeed, testing it later, I found on the fronds traces of sulphate of copper. But the same thing has been found in the feathers of certain birdswhose color is metallic green, and it has been proven that such birdspick up and swallow shining bits of copper pyrites. 

Why should not the ux do the same thing?

Still, my only reason for believing in the existence of the bird wasthis single feather. I had easily proved that it belonged to no knownspecies of bird. I also proved it to be similar to the tail-feathersof the ux-skin in Antwerp. But the feathers on the Antwerp specimenwere gray, and the longest of them was but three feet in length, whilemy huge, bronze-green feather measured eleven feet from tip to tip. 

One might account for it supposing the Antwerp skin to be that of ayoung bird, or of a moulting bird, or perhaps of a different sex fromthe bird whose feather I had secured. 

Still, these ideas were not proven. Nothing concerning the birds hadbeen proven. I had but a single fact to lean on, and that was that thefeather I possessed could not have belonged to any known species ofbird. Nobody but myself knew of the existence of this feather. And nowI meant to cable to Bronx Park for it, and to place this evidence atthe disposal of the beautiful Countess d'Alzette. 

My cigar had gone out, as I sat musing, and I relighted it and resumedmy reading of the type-written notes, lazily, even a triflesceptically, for all the evidence that she had been able to collect tosubstantiate her theory of the existence of the ux was not half asimportant as the evidence I was to produce in the shape of thatenormous green feather. 

I came to the last paragraph, smoking serenely, and leaning backcomfortably, one leg crossed over the other. Then, suddenly, myattention became riveted on the words under my eyes. Could I have readthem aright? Could I believe what I read in ever-growing astonishmentwhich culminated in an excitement that stirred the very hair on myhead?

 "The ux exists. There is no longer room for doubt. Ocular proof I can now offer in the shape of _five living eggs_ of this gigantic bird. All measures have been taken to hatch these eggs; they are now in the vast incubator. It is my plan to have them hatch, one by one, under the very eyes of the International Congress. It will be the greatest triumph that science has witnessed since the discovery of the New World. 

 [Signed] "SUSANNE D'ALZETTE. "

"Either, " I cried out, in uncontrollable excitement--"either that girlis mad or she is the cleverest woman on earth. "

After a moment I added:

"In either event I am going to marry her. "

XI

That evening, a few minutes before nine o'clock, I descended from acab in front of No. 8 Rue d'Alouette, and was ushered into a prettyreception-room by an irreproachable servant, who disappeared directlywith my card. 

In a few moments the young Countess came in, exquisite in her silverydinner-gown, eyes bright, white arms extended in a charming, impulsivewelcome. The touch of her silky fingers thrilled me; I was dumb underthe enchantment of her beauty; and I think she understood my silence, for her blue eyes became troubled and the happy parting of her lipschanged to a pensive curve. 

Presently I began to tell her about my bronzed-green feather; at myfirst word she looked up brightly, almost gratefully, I fancied; andin another moment we were deep in eager discussion of the subjectwhich had first drawn us together. 

What evidence I possessed to sustain our theory concerning theexistence of the ux I hastened to reveal; then, heart beatingexcitedly, I asked her about the eggs and where they were at present, and whether she believed it possible to bring them to Paris--all thesequestions in the same breath--which brought a happy light into hereyes and a delicious ripple of laughter to her lips. 

"Why, of course it is possible to bring the eggs here, " she cried. "AmI sure? Parbleu! The eggs are already here, monsieur!"

"Here!" I exclaimed. "In Paris?"

"In Paris? Mais oui; and in my own house--_this very house_, monsieur. Come, you shall behold them with your own eyes!"

Her eyes were brilliant with excitement; impulsively she stretched outher rosy hand. I took it; and she led me quickly back through thedrawing-room, through the dining-room, across the butler's pantry, andinto a long, dark hallway. We were almost running now--I keeping tighthold of her soft little hand, she, raising her gown a trifle, hurryingdown the hallway, silken petticoats rustling like a silk banner in thewind. A turn to the right brought us to the cellar-stairs; down wehastened, and then across the cemented floor towards a long, glass-fronted shelf, pierced with steam-pipes. 

"A match, " she whispered, breathlessly. 

I struck a wax match and touched it to the gas-burner overhead. 

Never, never can I forget what that flood of gas-light revealed. In arow stood five large, glass-mounted incubators; behind the glass doorslay, in dormant majesty, five enormous eggs. The eggs werepale-green--lighter, somewhat, than robins' eggs, but not as pale asherons' eggs. Each egg appeared to be larger than a large hogs-head, and was partly embedded in bales of cotton-wool. 

Five little silver thermometers inside the glass doors indicated atemperature of 95° Fahrenheit. I noticed that there was an automaticarrangement connected with the pipes which regulated the temperature. 

I was too deeply moved for words. Speech seemed superfluous as westood there, hand in hand, contemplating those gigantic, pale-greeneggs. 

There is something in a silent egg which moves one's deeperemotions--something solemn in its embryotic inertia, something awesomein its featureless immobility. 

I know of nothing on earth which is so totally lacking in expressionas an egg. The great desert Sphinx, brooding through its veil of sand, has not that tremendous and meaningless dignity which wraps thecolorless oval effort of a single domestic hen. 

I held the hand of the young Countess very tightly. Her fingers closedslightly. 

Then and there, in the solemn presence of those emotionless eggs, Iplaced my arm around her supple waist and kissed her. 

She said nothing. Presently she stooped to observe the thermometer. Naturally, it registered 95° Fahrenheit. 

"Susanne, " I said, softly. 

"Oh, we must go up-stairs, " she whispered, breathlessly; and, pickingup her silken skirts, she fled up the cellar-stairs. 

I turned out the gas, with that instinct of economy which earlywastefulness has implanted in me, and followed the Countess Suzannethrough the suite of rooms and into the small reception-hall where shehad first received me. 

She was sitting on a low divan, head bent, slowly turning a sapphirering on her finger, round and round. 

I looked at her romantically, and then--

"Please don't, " she said. 

The correct reply to this is:

"Why not?"--very tenderly spoken. 

"Because, " she replied, which was also the correct and regular answer. 

"Suzanne, " I said, slowly and passionately. 

She turned the sapphire ring on her finger. Presently she tired ofthis, so I lifted her passive hand very gently and continued turningthe sapphire ring on her finger, slowly, to harmonize with the cadenceof our unspoken thoughts. 

Towards midnight I went home, walking with great care through a newstreet in Paris, paved exclusively with rose-colored blocks of air. 

XII

At nine o'clock in the evening, July 31, 1900, the InternationalCongress was to assemble in the great lecture-hall of the BelgianScientific Pavilion, which adjourned the Tasmanian Pavilion, to hearthe Countess Suzanne d'Alzette read her paper on the ux. 

That morning the Countess and I, with five furniture vans, hadtransported the five great incubators to the platform of thelecture-hall, and had engaged an army of plumbers and gas-fitters tomake the steam-heating connections necessary to maintain in theincubators a temperature of 100° Fahrenheit. 

A heavy green curtain hid the stage from the body of the lecture-hall. Behind this curtain the five enormous eggs reposed, each in itsincubator. 

The Countess Suzanne was excited and calm by turns, her cheeks werepink, her lips scarlet, her eyes bright as blue planets at midnight. 

Without faltering she rehearsed her discourse before me, reading fromher type-written manuscript in a clear voice, in which I couldscarcely discern a tremor. Then we went through the dumb show ofexhibiting the uxen eggs to a frantically applauding audience; sheresponded to countless supposititious encores, I leading her outrepeatedly before the green curtain to face the great, damp, darkenedauditorium. 

Then, in response to repeated imaginary recalls, she rehearsed theextemporaneous speech, thanking the distinguished audience for theirpatience in listening to an unknown confrère, and confessing herobligations to me (here I appeared and bowed in self-abasement) for myfaith in her and my aid in securing for her a public hearing beforethe most highly educated audience in the world. 

After that we retired behind the curtain to sit on an empty box andeat sandwiches and watch the last lingering plumbers pasting up thesteam connections with a pot of molten lead. 

The plumbers were Americans, brought to Paris to make repairs on theAmerican buildings during the exposition, and we conversed with themaffably as they pottered about, plumber-like, poking under theflooring with lighted candles, rubbing their thumbs up and down mustyold pipes, and prying up planks in dark corners. 

They informed us that they were union men and that they hoped we weretoo. And I replied that union was certainly my ultimate purpose, atwhich the young Countess smiled dreamily at vacancy. 

We did not dare leave the incubators. The plumbers lingered on, hourafter hour, while we sat and watched the little silver thermometers, and waited. 

It was time for the Countess Suzanne to dress, and still the plumbershad not finished; so I sent a messenger for her maid, to bring hertrunk to the lecture-hall, and I despatched another messenger to mylodgings for my evening clothes and fresh linen. 

There were several dressing-rooms off the stage. Here, about sixo'clock, the Countess retired with her maid, to dress, leaving me towatch the plumbers and the thermometers. 

When the Countess Suzanne returned, radiant and lovely in an eveninggown of black lace, I gave her the roses I had brought for her andhurried off to dress in my turn, leaving her to watch thethermometers. 

I was not absent more than half an hour, but when I returned I foundthe Countess anxiously conversing with the plumbers and pointingdespairingly at the thermometers, which now registered only 95°. 

"You must keep up the temperature!" I said. "Those eggs are due tohatch within a few hours. What's the trouble with the heat?"

The plumber did not know, but thought the connections were defective. 

"But that's why we called you in!" exclaimed the Countess. "Can't youfix things securely?"

"Oh, we'll fix things, lady, " replied the plumber, condescendingly, and he ambled away to rub his thumb up and down a pipe. 

As we alone were unable to move and handle the enormous eggs, theCountess, whose sweet character was a stranger to vindictiveness orpetty resentment, had written to the members of the ornithologicalcommittee, revealing the marvellous fortune which had crowned herefforts in the search for evidence to sustain her theory concerningthe ux, and inviting these gentlemen to aid her in displaying thegreat eggs to the assembled congress. 

This she had done the night previous. Every one of the gentlemeninvited had come post-haste to her "hotel, " to view the eggs withtheir own sceptical and astonished eyes; and the fair young Countessand I tasted our first triumph in her cellar, whither we conducted SirPeter Grebe, the Crown-Prince of Monaco, Baron de Becasse, and hisMajesty King Christian of Finland. 

Scepticism and incredulity gave place to excitement and unboundedenthusiasm. The old King embraced the Countess; Baron de Becasseattempted to kiss me; Sir Peter Grebe made a handsome apology for hisfolly and vowed that he would do open penance for his sins. The poorCrown-Prince, who was of a nervous temperament, sat on thecellar-stairs and wept like a child. 

His grief at his own pig-headedness touched us all profoundly. 

So it happened that these gentlemen were coming to-night to give theiraid to us in moving the priceless eggs, and lend their countenance andenthusiastic support to the young Countess in her maiden effort. 

Sir Peter Grebe arrived first, all covered with orders anddecorations, and greeted us affectionately, calling the Countess the"sweetest lass in France, " and me his undutiful Yankee cousin who hadlanded feet foremost at the expense of the British Empire. 

The King of Finland, the Crown-Prince, and Baron de Becasse arrivedtogether, a composite mass of medals, sashes, and academy palms. Tosee them moving boxes about, straightening chairs, and pulling outrugs reminded me of those golden-embroidered gentlemen who run outinto the arena and roll up carpets after the acrobats have finishedtheir turn in the Nouveau Cirque. 

I was aiding the King of Finland to move a heavy keg of nails, whenthe Countess called out to me in alarm, saying that the thermometershad dropped to 80° Fahrenheit. 

I spoke sharply to the plumbers, who were standing in a circle behindthe dressing-rooms; but they answered sullenly that they could do nomore work that day. 

Indignant and alarmed, I ordered them to come out to the stage, and, after some hesitation, they filed out, a sulky, silent lot of workmen, with their tools already gathered up and tied in their kits. At once Inoticed that a new man had appeared among them--a red-faced, stockyman wearing a frock-coat and a shiny silk hat. 

"Who is the master-workman here?" I asked. 

"I am, " said a man in blue overalls. 

"Well, " said I, "why don't you fix those steam-fittings?"

There was a silence. The man in the silk hat smirked. 

"Well?" said I. 

"Come, come, that's all right, " said the man in the silk hat. "Thesemen know their business without you tellin' them. "

"Who are you?" I demanded, sharply. 

"Oh, I'm just a walkin' delegate, " he replied, with a sneer. "There'sa strike in New York and I come over here to tie this here expositionup. See?"

"You mean to say you won't let these men finish their work?" I asked, thunderstruck. 

"That's about it, young man, " he said, coolly. 

Furious, I glanced at my watch, then at the thermometers, which nowregistered only 75°. Already I could hear the first-comers of theaudience arriving in the body of the hall. Already a stage-hand wasturning up the footlights and dragging chairs and tables hither andthither. 

"What will you take to stay and attend to those steam-pipes?" Idemanded, desperately. 

"It can't be done nohow, " observed the man in the silk hat. "That NewYork strike is good for a month yet. " Then, turning to the workmen, henodded and, to my horror, the whole gang filed out after him, turningdeaf ears to my entreaties and threats. 

There was a deathly silence, then Sir Peter exploded into a vividshower of words. The Countess, pale as a ghost, gave me aheart-breaking look. The Crown-Prince wept. 

"Great Heaven!" I cried; "the thermometers have fallen to 70°!"

The King of Finland sat down on a chair and pressed his hands over hiseyes. Baron de Becasse ran round and round, uttering subdued andplaintive screams; Sir Peter swore steadily. 

"Gentlemen, " I cried, desperately, "we must save those eggs! They areon the very eve of hatching! Who will volunteer?"

"To do what?" moaned the Crown-Prince. 

"I'll show you, " I exclaimed, running to the incubators and beckoningto the Baron to aid me. 

In a moment we had rolled out the great egg, made a nest on the stagefloor with the bales of cotton-wool, and placed the egg in it. Oneafter another we rolled out the remaining eggs, building for each itsnest of cotton; and at last the five enormous eggs lay there in a rowbehind the green curtain. 

"Now, " said I, excitedly, to the King, "you must get up on that eggand try to keep it warm. "

The King began to protest, but I would take no denial, and presentlyhis Majesty was perched up on the great egg, gazing foolishly about atthe others, who were now all climbing up on their allotted eggs. 

"Great Heaven!" muttered the King, as Sir Peter settled downcomfortably on his egg, "I am willing to give life and fortune for thesake of science, but I can't bear to hatch out eggs like a bird!"

The Crown-Prince was now sitting patiently beside the Baron deBecasse. 

"I feel in my bones, " he murmured, "that I'm about to hatch something. Can't you hear a tapping on the shell of your egg, Baron?"

"Parbleu!" replied the Baron. "The shell is moving under me. "

It certainly was; for, the next moment, the Baron fell into his eggwith a crash and a muffled shriek, and floundered out, dripping, yellow as a canary. 

"N'importe!" he cried, excitedly. "Allons! Save the eggs! Hurrah! Vivela science!" And he scrambled up on the fourth egg and sat there, armsfolded, sublime courage transfiguring him from head to foot. 

We all gave him a cheer, which was hushed as the stage-manager ran in, warning us that the audience was already assembled and in place. 

"You're not going to raise the curtain while we're sitting, are you?"demanded the King of Finland, anxiously. 

"No, no, " I said; "sit tight, your Majesty. Courage, gentlemen! Ourvindication is at hand!"

The Countess glanced at me with startled eyes; I took her hand, saluted it respectfully, and then quietly led her before the curtain, facing an ocean of upturned faces across the flaring footlights. 

She stood a moment to acknowledge the somewhat ragged applause, a calmsmile on her lips. All her courage had returned; I saw that at once. 

Very quietly she touched her lips to the _eau-sucrée_, laid hermanuscript on the table, raised her beautiful head, and began:

"That the ux is a living bird I am here before you to prove--"

A sharp report behind the curtain drowned her voice. She paled; theaudience rose amid cries of excitement. 

"What was it?" she asked, faintly. 

"Sir Peter has hatched out his egg, " I whispered. "Hark! There goesanother egg!" And I ran behind the curtain. 

Such a scene as I beheld was never dreamed of on land or sea. Twoenormous young uxen, all over gigantic pin-feathers, were wanderingstupidly about. Mounted on one was Sir Peter Grebe, eyes starting fromhis apoplectic visage; on the other, clinging to the bird's neck, hungthe Baron de Becasse. 

Before I could move, the two remaining eggs burst, and a pair of huge, scrawny fledglings rose among the débris, bearing off on their backsthe King and Crown-Prince. 

"Help!" said the King of Finland, faintly. "I'm falling off!"

I sprang to his aid, but tripped on the curtain-spring. The nextinstant the green curtain shot up, and there, revealed to that vastand distinguished audience, roamed four enormous chicks, bearing ontheir backs the most respected and exclusive aristocracy of Europe. 

The Countess Suzanne turned with a little shriek of horror, then satdown in her chair, laid her lovely head on the table, and very quietlyfainted away, unconscious of the frantic cheers which went roaring tothe roof. 

 * * * * *

This, then, is the _true_ history of the famous exposition scandal. And, as I have said, had it not been for the presence in that audienceof two American reporters nobody would have known what all the worldnow knows--nobody would have read of the marvellous feats of barebackriding indulged in by the King of Finland--nobody would have read howSir Peter Grebe steered his mount safely past the footlights only tocome to grief over the prompter's box. 

But this _is_ scandal. And, as for the charming Countess Suzanned'Alzette, the public has heard all that it is entitled to hear, andmuch that it is not entitled to hear. 

However, on second thoughts, perhaps the public is entitled to hear alittle more. I will therefore say this much--the shock of astonishmentwhich stunned me when the curtain flew up, revealing theKing-bestridden uxen, was nothing to the awful blow which smote mewhen the Count d'Alzette leaped from the orchestra, over thefootlights, and bore away with him the fainting form of his wife, thelovely Countess d'Alzette. 

I sometimes wonder--but, as I have repeatedly observed, this dull andpedantic narrative of fact is no vehicle for sentimental soliloquy. Itis, then, merely sufficient to say that I took the earliest steamerfor kinder shores, spurred on to haste by a venomous cable-gram fromthe Smithsonian, repudiating me, and by another from Bronx Park, ordering me to spend the winter in some inexpensive, poisonous, andunobtrusive spot, and make a collection of isopods. The island of Javaappeared to me to be as poisonously unobtrusive and inexpensive aregion as I had ever heard of; a steamer sailed from Antwerp forBatavia in twenty-four hours. Therefore, as I say, I took thenight-train for Brussels, and the steamer from Antwerp the followingevening. 

Of my uneventful voyage, of the happy and successful quest, there islittle to relate. The Javanese are frolicsome and hospitable. Therewas a girl there with features that were as delicate as thoughchiselled out of palest amber; and I remember she wore a mostwonderful jewelled, helmet-like head-dress, and jingling bangles onher ankles, and when she danced she made most graceful and poeticgestures with her supple wrists--but that has nothing to do withisopods, absolutely nothing. 

Letters from home came occasionally. Professor Farrago had returned tothe Bronx and had been re-elected to the high office he had so noblyheld when I first became associated with him. 

Through his kindness and by his advice I remained for several years inthe Far East, until a letter from him arrived recalling me and alsoannouncing his own hurried and sudden departure for Florida. He alsomentioned my promotion to the office of subcurator of department; so Istarted on my homeward voyage very much pleased with the world, andarrived in New York on April 1, 1904, ready for a rest to which Ibelieved myself entitled. And the first thing that they handed me wasa letter from Professor Farrago, summoning me South. 

XIII

The letter that started me--I was going to say startled me, but onlyimaginative people are startled--the letter, then, that started mefrom Bronx Park to the South I print without the permission of mysuperior, Professor Farrago. I have not obtained his permission, forthe somewhat exciting reason that nobody knows where he is. Publicitybeing now recognized as the annihilator of mysteries, a benevolentpurpose alone inspires me to publish a letter so strange, sopathetically remarkable, in view of what has recently occurred. 

As I say, I had only just returned from Java with a valuablecollection of undescribed isopods--an order of edriophthalmouscrustaceans with seven free thoracic somites furnished with fourteenlegs--and I beg my reader's pardon, but my reader will see thenecessity for the author's absolute accuracy in insisting on detail, because the story that follows is a dangerous story for a scientist totell, in view of the vast amount of nonsense and fiction incirculation masquerading as stories of scientific adventure. 

I was, therefore, anticipating a delightful summer's work with pen andmicroscope, when on April 1st I received the following extraordinaryletter from Professor Farrago:

 "IN CAMP, LITTLE SPRITE LAKE, "EVERGLADES, FLORIDA, _March 15, 1902. _

 "MY DEAR MR. GILLAND, --On receipt of this communication you will immediately secure for me the following articles:

 "One complete outfit of woman's clothing. "One camera. "One light steel cage, large enough for you to stand in. "One stenographer (male sex). "One five-pound steel tank, with siphon and hose attachment. "One rifle and ammunition. "Three ounces rosium oxyde. "One ounce chlorate strontium. 

 "You will then, within twenty-four hours, set out with the stenographer and the supplies mentioned and join me in camp on Little Sprite Lake. This order is formal and admits of no delay. You will appreciate the necessity of absolute and unquestioning obedience when I tell you that I am practically on the brink of the most astonishing discovery recorded in natural history since Monsieur Zani discovered the purple-spotted zoombok in Nyanza; and that I depend upon you and your zeal and fidelity for success. 

 "I dare not, lest my letter fall into unscrupulous hands, convey to you more than a hint of what lies before us in these uncharted solitudes of the Everglades. 

 "You must read between the lines when I say that because one can see through a sheet of glass, the glass is none the less solid and palpable. One can see _through_ it--if that is also seeing it; but one can nevertheless hold it and feel it and receive from it sensations of cold or heat according to its temperature. 

 "Certain jellyfish are absolutely transparent when in the water, and one can only know of their presence by accidental contact, not by sight. 

 "_Have you ever thought that possibly there might exist larger and more highly organized creatures transparent to eyesight, yet palpable to touch?_

 "Little Sprite Lake is the jumping-off place; beyond lie the Everglades, the outskirts of which are haunted by the Seminoles, the interior of which have never been visited by man, as far as we know. 

 "As you are aware, no general survey of Florida has yet been made; there exist no maps of the Everglades south of Okeechobee; even Little Sprite Lake is but a vague blot on our maps. We know, of course, that south of the eleven thousand square miles of fresh water which is called Lake Okeechobee the Everglades form a vast, delta-like projection of thousands and thousands of square miles. Darkest Africa is no longer a mystery; but the Everglades to-day remain the sombre secret of our continent. And, to-day, this unknown expanse of swamps, barrens, forests, and lagoons is greater than in the days of De Soto, because the entire region has been slowly rising. 

 "All this, my dear sir, you already know, and I ask your indulgence for recalling the facts to your memory. I do it for this reason--the search for _what I am seeking_ may lead us to utter destruction; and therefore my formal orders to you should be modified to this extent:--do you volunteer? If you volunteer, my orders remain; if not, turn this letter over to Mr. Kingsley, who will find for me the companion I require. 

 "In the event of your coming, you must break your journey at False Cape and ask for an old man named Slunk. He will give you a packet; you will give him a dollar, and drive on to Cape Canaveral, and you will do what is to be done there. From there to Fort Kissimmee, to Okeechobee, traversing the lake to the Rita River, where I have marked the trail to Little Sprite. 

 "At Little Sprite I shall await you; beyond that point a merciful Providence alone can know what awaits us. 

 "Yours fraternally, "FARRAGO. 

 "P. S. --I think that you had better make your will, and suggest the same idea to the stenographer who is to accompany you. 

 F. "

And that was the letter I received while seated comfortably on thefloor of my work-room, surrounded by innocent isopods, all patientlyawaiting scientific investigation. 

And this is what I did: Within twenty-four hours I had assembled thesupplies required--the cage, the woman's clothing, tank, arms andammunition, and the chemicals; I had secured accommodations, for thatevening, on the Florida, Volusia, and Fort Lauderdale Railway as faras Citron City; and I had been interviewing stenographers all daylong, the result of an innocently worded advertisement in the dailynewspapers. 

It was now very close to the time when I must summon a cab and driveto the ferry; and yet I was still shy one stenographer. 

I had seen scores; they simply would not listen to the proposition. "Why does a gentleman in the backwoods of Florida want astenographer?" they demanded; and as I had not the faintest idea, Icould only say so. I think the majority interviewed concluded I hadescaped from a State institution. 

As the time for departure approached I became desperate, urging andbeseeching applicants to accompany me; but neither sympathy for myinstant need nor desire for salary moved them. 

I waited until the last moment, hoping against hope. Then, with agroan of despair, I seized luggage and raincoat, made for the door andflung it open, only to find myself face to face with an attractiveyoung girl, apparently on the point of pressing the electric button. 

"I'm sorry, " I said, "but I have a train to catch. "

She was noticeably attractive in her storm-coat and pretty hat, and Ireally was sorry--so sorry that I added:

"I have about twenty-seven seconds to place at your service before Igo. "

"Twenty will be sufficient, " she replied, pleasantly. "I saw youradvertisement for a stenographer--"

"We require a man, " I interposed, hastily. 

"Have you engaged him?"

"N-no. "

We looked at each other. 

"You wouldn't accept, anyway, " I began. 

"How do you know?"

"You wouldn't leave town, would you?"

"Yes, if you required it. "

"What? Go to Florida?"

"Y-yes--if I must. "

"But think of the alligators! Think of the snakes--big, bitey snakes!"

"Gracious!" she exclaimed, eyes growing bigger. 

"Indians, too!--unreconciled, sulky Seminoles! Fevers! Mud-puddles!Spiders! And only fifty dollars a week--"

"I--I'll go, " she stammered. 

"Go?" I repeated, grimly; "then you've exactly two and three-quarterseconds left for preparations. "

Instinctively she raised her little gloved hand and patted her hair. "I'm ready, " she said, unsteadily. 

"One extra second to make your will, " I added, stunned by herself-possession. 

"I--I have nothing to leave--nobody to leave it to, " she said, smiling; "I am ready. "

I took that extra second myself for a lightning course in reflectionupon effects and consequences. 

"It's silly, it's probably murder, " I said, "but you're engaged! Nowwe must run for it!"

And that is how I came to engage the services of Miss Helen Barrisonas stenographer. 

XIV

At noon on the second day I disembarked from the train at Citron Citywith all paraphernalia--cage, chemicals, arsenal, and stenographer; anaccumulation of very dusty impedimenta--all but the stenographer. Bythree o'clock our hotel livery-rig was speeding along the beach atFalse Cape towards the tall lighthouse looming above the dunes. 

The abode of a gentleman named Slunk was my goal. I sat brooding inthe rickety carriage, still dazed by the rapidity of my flight fromNew York; the stenographer sat beside me, blue eyes bright withexcitement, fair hair blowing in the sea-wind. 

Our railway companionship had been of the slightest, also absolutelyformal; for I was too absorbed in conjecturing the meaning of thisjourney to be more than absent-mindedly civil; and she, I fancy, hadhad time for repentance and perhaps for a little fright, though Icould discover traces of neither. 

I remember she left the train at some city or other where we were heldfor an hour; and out of the car-window I saw her returning with abrand-new grip sack. 

She must have bought clothes, for she continued to remain cool andfresh in her summer shirt-waists and short outing skirt; and shelooked immaculate now, sitting there beside me, the trace of a smilecurving her red mouth. 

"I'm looking for a personage named Slunk, " I observed. 

After a moment's silent consideration of the Atlantic Ocean she said, "When do my duties begin, Mr. Gilland?"

"The Lord alone knows, " I replied, grimly. "Are you repenting of yourbargain?"

"I am quite happy, " she said, serenely. 

Remorse smote me that I had consented to engage this frail, pink-and-ivory biped for an enterprise which lay outside the suburbsof Manhattan. I glanced guiltily at my victim; she sat there, theincarnation of New York piquancy--a translated denizen of themetropolis--a slender spirit of the back offices of sky-scrapers. Whyhad I lured her hither?--here where the heavy, lavender-tintedbreakers thundered on a lost coast; here where above the dune-junglesvultures soared, and snowy-headed eagles, hulking along the sands, tore dead fish and yelped at us as we passed. 

Strange waters, strange skies--a strange, lost land aquiver under anexotic sun; and there she sat with her wise eyes of a child, unconcerned, watching the world in perfect confidence. 

"May I pay a little compliment to your pluck?" I asked, amused. 

"Certainly, " she said, smiling as the maid of Manhattan alone knowshow to smile--shyly, inquiringly--with a lingering hint of laughter inthe curled lips' corners. Then her sensitive features fell a trifle. "Not pluck, " she said, "but necessity; I had no chance to choose, notime to wait. My last dollar, Mr. Gilland, is in my purse!"

With a gay little gesture she drew it from her shirt-front, then, smiling, sat turning it over and over in her lap. 

The sun fell on her hands, gilding the smooth skin with the first tintof sunburn. Under the corners of her eyes above the rounded cheeks apink stain lay like the first ripening flush on a wild strawberry. That, too, was the mark left by the caress of wind and sun. I had hadno idea she was so pretty. 

"I think we'll enjoy this adventure, " I said; "don't you?"

"I try to make the best of things, " she said, gazing off into thehorizon haze. "Look, " she added; "is that a man?"

A spot far away on the beach caught my eye. At first I thought it wasa pelican--and small wonder, too, for the dumpy, waddling, goose-necked individual who loomed up resembled a heavy bottomed birdmore than a human being. 

"Do you suppose that could be Mr. Slunk?" asked the stenographer, asour vehicle drew nearer. 

He looked as though his name ought to be Slunk; he was digging coquinaclams, and he dug with a pecking motion like a water-turkey masteringa mullet too big for it. 

His name was Slunk; he admitted it when I accused him. Our negrodriver drew rein, and I descended to the sand and gazed on Mr. Slunk. 

He was, as I have said, not impressive, even with the tremendousbackground of sky and ocean. 

"I've come something over a thousand miles to see you, " I said, reluctant to admit that I had come as far to see such a specimen ofhuman architecture. 

A weather-beaten grin stretched the skin that covered his face, and heshoved a hairy paw into the pockets of his overalls, digging deeplyinto profound depths. First he brought to light a twist of SouthCarolina tobacco, which he leisurely inserted in his mouth--not, apparently, for pleasure, but merely to get rid of it. 

The second object excavated from the overalls was a small packetaddressed to me. This he handed to me; I gravely handed him a silverdollar; he went back to his clam-digging, and I entered the carriageand drove on. All had been carried out according to the letter of myinstructions so far, and my spirits brightened. 

"If you don't mind I'll read my instructions, " I said, in highgood-humor. 

"Pray do not hesitate, " she said, smiling in sympathy. 

So I opened the little packet and read:

 "Drive to Cape Canaveral along the beach. You will find a gang of men at work on a government breakwater. The superintendent is Mr. Rowan. Show him this letter. 

 "FARRAGO. "

Rather disappointed--for I had been expecting to find in the packetsome key to the interesting mystery which had sent Professor Farragointo the Everglades--I thrust the missive into my pocket and resumed astudy of the immediate landscape. It had not changed as we progressed:ocean, sand, low dunes crowned with impenetrable tangles of wild bay, sparkleberry, and live-oak, with here and there a weather-twistedpalmetto sprawling, and here and there the battered blades of cactusand Spanish-bayonet thrust menacingly forward; and over all thevultures, sailing, sailing--some mere circling motes lost in the blueabove, some sheering the earth so close that their swiftly sweepingshadows slanted continually across our road. 

"I detest a buzzard, " I said, aloud. 

"I thought they were crows, " she confessed. 

"Carrion-crows--yes. 

 "'The carrion-crows Sing, Caw! caw!'

--only they don't, " I added, my song putting me in good-humor oncemore. And I glanced askance at the pretty stenographer. 

"It is a pleasure to be employed by agreeable people, " she said, innocently. 

"Oh, I can be much more agreeable than that, " I said. 

"Is Professor Farrago--amusing?" she asked. 

"Well--oh, certainly--but not in--in the way I am. "

Suddenly it flashed upon me that my superior was a confirmed hater ofunmarried women. I had clean forgotten it; and now the full import ofwhat I had done scared me silent. 

"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Barrison. 

"No--not yet, " I said, ominously. 

How on earth could I have overlooked that well-known fact. The hurryand anxiety, the stress of instant preparation and departure, hadclean driven it from my absent-minded head. 

Jogging on over the sand, I sat silent, cudgelling my brains for asolution of the disastrous predicament I had gotten into. I picturedthe astonished rage of my superior--my probable dismissal fromemployment--perhaps the general overturning and smash-up of the entireexpedition. 

A distant, dark object on the beach concentrated my distractedthoughts; it must be the breakwater at Cape Canaveral. And it was thebreakwater, swarming with negro workmen, who were swinging greatblocks of coquina into cemented beds, singing and whistling at theirlabor. 

I forgot my predicament when I saw a thin white man in sun-helmet andkhaki directing the work from the beach; and as our horses plodded up, I stepped out and hailed him by name. 

"Yes, my name is Rowan, " he said, instantly, turning to meet me. Hissharp, clear eyes included the vehicle and the stenographer, and helifted his helmet, then looked squarely at me. 

"My name is Gilland, " I said, dropping my voice and stepping nearer. "I have just come from Bronx Park, New York. "

He bowed, waiting for something more from me; so I presented mycredentials. 

His formal manner changed at once. "Come over here and let us talk abit, " he said, cordially--then hesitated, glancing at MissBarrison--"if your wife would excuse us--"

The pretty stenographer colored, and I dryly set Mr. Rowanright--which appeared to disturb him more than his mistake. 

"Pardon me, Mr. Gilland, but you do not propose to take this younggirl into the Everglades, do you?"

"That's what I had proposed to do, " I said, brusquely. 

Perfectly aware that I resented his inquiry, he cast a perplexed andtroubled glance at her, then slowly led the way to a great block ofsun-warmed coquina, where he sat down, motioning me to do the same. 

"I see, " he said, "that you don't know just where you are going orjust what you are expected to do. "

"No, I don't, " I said. 

"Well, I'll tell you, then. You are going into the devil's own countryto look for something that I fled five hundred miles to avoid. "

"Is that so?" I said, uneasily. 

"That is so, Mr. Gilland. "

"Oh! And what is this object that I am to look for and from which youfled five hundred miles?"

"I don't know. "

"You don't know what you ran away from?"

"No, sir. Perhaps if I had known I should have run a thousand miles. "

We eyed one another. 

"You think, then, that I'd better send Miss Barrison back to NewYork?" I asked. 

"I certainly do. It may be murder to take her. "

"Then I'll do it!" I said, nervously. "Back she goes from the firstrailroad station. "

In a flash the thought came to me that here was a way to avoid thewrath of Professor Farrago--and a good excuse, too. He might forgivemy not bringing a man as stenographer in view of my limited time; henever would forgive my presenting him with a woman. 

"She must go back, " I repeated; and it rather surprised me to findmyself already anticipating loneliness--something that never in all mytravels had I experienced before. 

"By the first train, " I added, firmly, disliking Mr. Rowan without anyreason except that he had suddenly deprived me of my stenographer. 

"What I have to tell you, " he began, lighting a cigarette, the mate towhich I declined, "is this: Three years ago, before I entered thiscontracting business, I was in the government employ as officer in theCoast Survey. Our duties took us into Florida waters; we were monthsat a time working on shore. "

He pulled thoughtfully at his cigarette and blew a light cloud intothe air. 

"I had leave for a month once; and like an ass I prepared to spend itin a hunting-trip among the Everglades. "

He crossed his lean legs and gazed meditatively at his cigarette. 

"I believe, " he went on, "that we penetrated the Everglades fartherthan any white man who ever lived to return. There's nothing verydismal about the Everglades--the greater part, I mean. You get highand low hummock, marshes, creeks, lakes, and all that. If you getlost, you're a goner. If you acquire fever, you're as well off as theseraphim--and not a whit better. There are the usual animalsthere--bears (little black fellows) lynxes, deer, panthers, alligators, and a few stray crocodiles. As for snakes, of coursethey're there, moccasins a-plenty, some rattlers, but, after all, notas many snakes as one finds in Alabama, or even northern Florida andGeorgia. 

"The Seminoles won't help you--won't even talk to you. They're asullen pack--but not murderous, as far as I know. Beyond their innerlimits lie the unknown regions. "

He bit the wet end from his cigarette. 

"I went there, " he said; "I came out as soon as I could. "

"Why?"

"Well--for one thing, my companion died of fright. "

"Fright? What at?"

"Well, there's something in there. "

"What?"

He fixed a penetrating gaze on me. "I don't know, Mr. Gilland. "

"Did you see anything to frighten you?" I insisted. 

"No, but I felt something. " He dropped his cigarette and ground itinto the sand viciously. "To cut it short, " he said, "I am mostunwillingly led to believe that there are--creatures--of some sort inthe Everglades--living creatures quite as large as you or I--and thatthey are perfectly transparent--as transparent as a colorlessjellyfish. "

Instantly the veiled import of Professor Farrago's letter was madeclear to me. He, too, believed that. 

"It embarrasses me like the devil to say such a thing, " continuedRowan, digging in the sand with his spurred heels. "It seems so--solike a whopping lie--it seems so childish and ridiculous--so cursedcheap! But I fled; and there you are. I might add, " he said, indifferently, "that I have the ordinary portion of courage allottedto normal men. "

"But what do you believe these--these animals to be?" I asked, fascinated. 

"I don't know. " An obstinate look came into his eyes. "I don't know, and I absolutely refuse to speculate for the benefit of anybody. Iwouldn't do it for my friend Professor Farrago; and I'm not going todo it for you, " he ended, laughing a rather grim laugh that somehowjarred me into realizing the amazing import of his story. For I didnot doubt it, strange as it was--fantastic, incredible though itsounded in the ears of a scientist. 

What it was that carried conviction I do not know--perhaps the factthat my superior credited it; perhaps the manner of narration. Told inquiet, commonplace phrases, by an exceedingly practical andunimaginative young man who was plainly embarrassed in the telling, the story rang out like a shout in a cañon, startling because of theabsolute lack of emphasis employed in the telling. 

"Professor Farrago asked me to speak of this to no one except the manwho should come to his assistance. He desired the first chance ofclearing this--this rather perplexing matter. No doubt he didn't wantexploring parties prowling about him, " added Rowan, smiling. "Butthere's no fear of that, I fancy. I never expect to tell that storyagain to anybody; I shouldn't have told him, only somehow it's worriedme for three years, and though I was deadly afraid of ridicule, Ifinally made up my mind that science ought to have a hack at it. 

"When I was in New York last winter I summoned up courage and wroteProfessor Farrago. He came to see me at the Holland House that sameevening; I told him as much as I ever shall tell anybody. That is all, Mr. Gilland. "

For a long time I sat silent, musing over the strange words. After awhile I asked him whether Professor Farrago was supplied withprovisions; and he said he was; that a great store of staples and tinsof concentrated rations had been carried in as far as Little SpriteLake; that Professor Farrago was now there alone, having insisted upondismissing all those he had employed. 

"There was no practical use for a guide, " added Rowan, "because nocracker, no Indian, and no guide knows the region beyond the Seminolecountry. "

I rose, thanking him and offering my hand. He took it and shook it inmanly fashion, saying: "I consider Professor Farrago a very brave man;I may say the same of any man who volunteers to accompany him. Good-bye, Mr. Gilland; I most earnestly wish for your success. Professor Farrago left this letter for you. "

And that was all. I climbed back into the rickety carriage, carryingmy unopened letter; the negro driver cracked his whip and whistled, and the horses trotted inland over a fine shell road which was to leadus across Verbena Junction to Citron City. Half an hour later wecrossed the tracks at Verbena and turned into a broad marl road. Thisaroused me from my deep and speculative reverie, and after a fewmoments I asked Miss Barrison's indulgence and read the letter fromProfessor Farrago which Mr. Rowan had given me:

 "DEAR MR. GILLAND, --You now know all I dared not write, fearing to bring a swarm of explorers about my ears in case the letter was lost, and found by unscrupulous meddlers. If you still are willing to volunteer, knowing all that I know, join me as soon as possible. If family considerations deter you from taking what perhaps is an insane risk, I shall not expect you to join me. In that event, return to New York immediately and send Kingsley. 

 "Yours, F. "

"What the deuce is the matter with him!" I exclaimed, irritably. "I'lltake any chances Kingsley does!"

Miss Barrison looked up in surprise. 

"Miss Barrison, " I said, plunging into the subject headfirst, "I'mextremely sorry, but I have news that forces me to believe the journeytoo dangerous for you to attempt, so I think that it would be muchbetter--" The consternation in her pretty face checked me. 

"I'm awfully sorry, " I muttered, appalled by her silence. 

"But--but you engaged me!"

"I know it--I should not have done it. I only--"

"But you did engage me, didn't you?"

"I believe that I did--er--oh, of course--"

"But a verbal contract is binding between honorable people, isn't it, Mr. Gilland?"

"Yes, but--"

"And ours was a verbal contract; and in consideration you paid me myfirst week's salary, and I bought shirt-waists and a short skirt andthree changes of--and tooth-brushes and--"

"I know, I know, " I groaned. "But I'll fix all that. "

"You can't if you break your contract. "

"Why not?"

"Because, " she said, flushing up, "I should not accept. "

"You don't understand--"

"Really I do. You are going into a dangerous country and you're afraidI'll be frightened. "

"It's something like that. "

"Tell me what are the dangers?"

"Alligators, big, bitey snakes--"

"Oh, you've said all that before!"

"Seminoles--"

"And that too. What else is there? Did the young man in the sun-helmettell you of something worse?"

"Yes--much worse! Something so dreadfully horrible that--"

"What?"

"I am not at liberty to tell you, Miss Barrison, " I said, striving toappear shocked. 

"It would not make any difference anyway, " she observed, calmly. "I'mnot afraid of anything in the world. "

"Yes, you are!" I said. "Listen to me; I'd be awfully glad to have yougo--I--I really had no idea how I'd miss you--miss such pleasantcompanionship. But it is not possible--" The recollection of ProfessorFarrago's aversion suddenly returned. "No, no, " I said, "it can't bedone. I'm most unhappy over this mistake of mine; please don't look asthough you were ready to cry!"

"Don't discharge me, Mr. Gilland, " she said. 

"I'm a brute to do it, but I must; I was a bigger brute to engage you, but I did. Don't--please don't look at me that way, Miss Barrison! Asa matter of fact, I'm tender-hearted and I can't endure it. "

"If you only knew what I had been through you wouldn't send me away, "she said, in a low voice. "It took my last penny to clothe myself andpay for the last lesson at the college of stenography. I--I lived onalmost nothing for weeks; every respectable place was filled; I walkedand walked and walked, and nobody wanted me--they all required peoplewith experience--and how can I have experience until I begin, Mr. Gilland? I was perfectly desperate when I went to see you, knowingthat you had advertised for a man--" The slightest break in her clearvoice scared me. 

"I'm not going to cry, " she said, striving to smile. "If I must go, Iwill go. I--I didn't mean to say all this--but--but I've been so--sodiscouraged;--and you were not very cross with me--"

Smitten with remorse, I picked up her hand and fell to patting itviolently, trying to think of something to say. The exercise did notappear to stimulate my wits. 

"Then--then I'm to go with you?" she asked. 

"I will see, " I said, weakly, "but I fear there's trouble ahead forthis expedition. "

"I fear there is, " she agreed, in a cheerful voice. "You have a rifleand a cage in your luggage. Are you going to trap Indians and have mereport their language?"

"No, I'm not going to trap Indians, " I said, sharply. "They may trapus--but that's a detail. What I want to say to you is this: ProfessorFarrago detests unmarried women, and I forgot it when I engaged you. "

"Oh, is that all?" she asked, laughing. 

"Not all, but enough to cost me my position. "

"How absurd! Why, there are millions of things we mightdo!--millions!"

"What's one of them?" I inquired. 

"Why, we might pretend to be married!" Her frank and absolutelyinnocent delight in this suggestion was refreshing, but troubling. 

"We would have to be demonstrative to make that story go, " I said. 

"Why? Well-bred people are not demonstrative in public, " she retorted, turning a trifle pink. 

"No, but in private--"

"I think there is no necessity for carrying a pleasantry into ourprivate life, " she said, in a perfectly amiable voice. "Anyway, ifProfessor Farrago's feelings are to be spared, no sacrifice on thepart of a mere girl could be too great, " she added, gayly; "I willwear men's clothes if you wish. "

"You may have to anyhow in the jungle, " I said; "and as it's not anuncommon thing these days, nobody would ever take you for anythingexcept what you are--a very wilful and plucky and persistent and--"

"And what, Mr. Gilland?"

"And attractive, " I muttered. 

"Thank you, Mr. Gilland. "

"You're welcome, " I snapped. The near whistle of a locomotive warnedus, and I rose in the carriage, looking out across the sand-hills. 

"That is probably our train, " observed the pretty stenographer. 

"_Our_ train!"

"Yes; isn't it?"

"Then you insist--"

"Ah, no, Mr. Gilland; I only trust implicitly in my employer. "

"We'll wait till we get to Citron City, " I said, weakly; "then it willbe time enough to discuss the situation, won't it?"

"Yes, indeed, " she said, smiling; but she knew, and I already feared, that the situation no longer admitted of discussion. In a few momentsmore we emerged, without warning, from the scrub-crested sand-hillsinto the single white street of Citron City, where China-trees hungheavy with bloom, and magnolias, already set with perfumed candelabra, spread soft, checkered shadows over the marl. 

The train lay at the station, oceans of heavy, black smoke lazilyflowing from the locomotive; negroes were hoisting empty fruit-cratesaboard the baggage-car, through the door of which I caught a glimpseof my steel cage and remaining paraphernalia, all securely crated. 

"Telegram hyah foh Mistuh Gilland, " remarked the operator, lounging athis window as we descended from our dusty vehicle. He had notaddressed himself to anybody in particular, but I said that I was Mr. Gilland, and he produced the envelope. "Toted in from Okeechobee?" heinquired, listlessly. 

"Probably; it's signed 'Farrago, ' isn't it?"

"It's foh yoh, suh, I reckon, " said the operator, handing it out witha yawn. Then he removed his hat and fanned his head, which wasperfectly bald. 

I opened the yellow envelope. "Get me a good dog with points, " was thelaconic message; and it irritated me to receive such idioticinstructions at such a time and in such a place. A good dog? Where themischief could I find a dog in a town consisting of ten houses and awater-tank? I said as much to the bald-headed operator, who smiledwearily and replaced his hat: "Dawg? They's moh houn'-dawgs in CitronCity than they's wood-ticks to keep them busy. I reckon a dollah 'lldo a heap foh you, suh. "

"Could you get me a dog for a dollar?" I asked;--"one with points?"

"Points? I sholy can, suh;--plenty of points. What kind of dawg do yohrequiah, suh?--live dawg? daid dawg? houn'-dawg? raid-dawg? hawg-dawg?coon-dawg?--"

The locomotive emitted a long, lazy, softly modulated and thoroughlySouthern toot. I handed the operator a silver dollar, and he presentlyemerged from his office and slouched off up the street, while I walkedwith Miss Barrison to the station platform, where I resumed thediscussion of her future movements. 

"You are very young to take such a risk, " I said, gravely. "Had I notbetter buy your ticket back to New York? The north-bound train meetsthis one. I suppose we are waiting for it now--" I stopped, consciousof her impatience. 

Her face flushed brightly: "Yes; I think it best. I have embarrassedyou too long already--"

"Don't say that!" I muttered. "I--I--shall be deadly bored withoutyou. "

"I am not an entertainer, only a stenographer, " she said, curtly. "Please get me my ticket, Mr. Gilland. "

She gazed at me from the car-platform; the locomotive tooted twodrawling toots. 

"It is for your sake, " I said, avoiding her gaze as the far-offwhistle of the north-bound express came floating out of the bluedistance. 

She did not answer; I fished out my watch, regarding it in silence, listening to the hum of the approaching train, which ought presentlyto bear her away into the North, where nothing could menace her exceptthe brilliant pitfalls of a Christian civilization. But I stoodthere, temporizing, unable to utter a word as her train shot by uswith a rush, slower, slower, and finally stopped, with a long-drawnsigh from the air-brakes. 

At that instant the telegraph-operator appeared, carrying a dog by thescruff of the neck--a sad-eyed, ewe-necked dog, from the four cornersof which dangled enormous, cushion-like paws. He yelped when he beheldme. Miss Barrison leaned down from the car-platform and took theanimal into her arms, uttering a suppressed exclamation of pity as shelifted him. 

"You have your hands full, " she said to me; "I'll take him into thecar for you. "

She mounted the steps; I followed with the valises, striving to get agood view of my acquisition over her shoulder. 

"That isn't the kind of dog I wanted!" I repeated again and again, inspecting the animal as it sprawled on the floor of the car at theedge of Miss Barrison's skirt. "That dog is all voice and feet andemotion! What makes it stick up its paws like that? I don't want thatdog and I'm not going to identify myself with it! Where's theoperator--"

I turned towards the car-window; the operator's bald head was visibleon a line with the sill, and I made motions at him. He bowed withcourtly grace, as though I were thanking him. 

"I'm not!" I cried, shaking my head. "I wanted a dog with points--notthe kind of points that stick up all over this dog. Take him away!"

The operator's head appeared to be gliding out of my range of vision;then the windows of the north-bound train slid past, faster andfaster. A melancholy grace-note from the dog, a jolt, and I turnedaround, appalled. 

"This train is going, " I stammered, "and you are on it!"

Miss Barrison sprang up and started towards the door, and I sped afterher. 

"I can jump, " she said, breathlessly, edging out to the platform;"please let me! There is time yet--if you only wouldn't hold me--sotight--"

A few moments later we walked slowly back together through the car andtook seats facing one another. 

Between us sat the hound-dog, a prey to melancholy unutterable. 

XV

It was on Sunday when I awoke to the realization that I had quittedcivilization and was afloat on an unfamiliar body of water in an openboat containing--

 One light steel cage, One rifle and ammunition, One stenographer, Three ounces rosium oxide, One hound-dog, Two valises. 

A playful wave slopped over the bow and I lost count; but the prettystenographer made the inventory, while I resumed the oars, and the dogpunctured the primeval silence with staccato yelps. 

A few minutes later everything and everybody was accounted for; thesky was blue and the palms waved, and several species of dicky-birdstuned up as I pulled with powerful strokes out into the sunny watersof Little Sprite Lake, now within a few miles of my journey's end. 

From ponds hidden in the marshes herons rose in lazily laboriousflight, flapping low across the water; high in the cypress yellow-eyedospreys bent crested heads to watch our progress; sun-bakedalligators, lying heavily in the shoreward sedge, slid open, glassyeyes as we passed. 

"Even the 'gators make eyes at you, " I said, resting on my oars. 

We were on terms of badinage. 

"Who was it who shed crocodile tears at the prospect of shipping meNorth?" she inquired. 

"Speaking of tears, " I observed, "somebody is likely to shed a numberwhen Professor Farrago is picked up. "

"Pooh!" she said, and snapped her pretty, sun-tanned fingers; and Iresumed the oars in time to avoid shipwreck on a large mud-bar. 

She reclined in the stern, serenely occupied with the view, now andthen caressing the discouraged dog, now and then patting her hairwhere the wind had loosened a bright strand. 

"If Professor Farrago didn't expect a woman stenographer, " she said, abruptly, "why did he instruct you to bring a complete outfit ofwoman's clothing?"

"I don't know, " I said, tartly. 

"But you bought them. Are they for a young woman or an old woman?"

"I don't know; I sent a messenger to a department store. I don't knowwhat he bought. "

"Didn't you look them over?"

"No. Why? I should have been no wiser. I fancy they're all right, because the bill was eighteen hundred dollars--"

The pretty stenographer sat up abruptly. 

"Is that much?" I asked, uneasily. "I've always heard women's clothingwas expensive. Wasn't it enough? I told the boy to order thebest;--Professor Farrago always requires the very best scientificinstruments, and--I listed the clothes as scientific accessories--thatbeing the object of this expedition--_What_ are you laughing at?"

When it pleased her to recover her gravity she announced her desire toinspect and repack the clothing; but I refused. 

"They're for Professor Farrago, " I said. "I don't know what he wantsof them. I don't suppose he intends to wear 'em and caper about thejungle, but they're his. I got them because he told me to. I bought acage, too, to fit myself, but I don't suppose he means to put me init. Perhaps, " I added, "he may invite you into it. "

"Let me refold the gowns, " she pleaded, persuasively. "What does aclumsy man know about packing such clothing as that? If you don't, they'll be ruined. It's a shame to drag those boxes about through mudand water!"

So we made a landing, and lifted out and unlocked the boxes. All Icould see inside were mounds of lace and ribbons, and with a vagueidea that Miss Barrison needed no assistance I returned to the boatand sat down to smoke until she was ready. 

When she summoned me her face was flushed and her eyes bright. 

"Those are certainly the most beautiful things!" she said, softly. "Why, it is like a bride's trousseau--absolutely complete--all exceptthe bridal gown--"

"Isn't there a dress there?" I exclaimed, in alarm. 

"No--not a day-dress. "

"Night-dresses!" I shrieked. "He doesn't want women's night-dresses!He's a bachelor! Good Heavens! I've done it this time!"

"But--but who is to wear them?" she asked. 

"How do I know? I don't know anything; I can only presume that hedoesn't intend to open a department store in the Everglades. And ifany lady is to wear garments in his vicinity, I assume that thosegarments are to be anything except diaphanous!. .. Please take yourseat in the boat, Miss Barrison. I want to row and think. "

I had had my fill of exercise and thought when, about four o'clock inthe afternoon, Miss Barrison directed my attention to a point of palmsjutting out into the water about a mile to the southward. 

"That's Farrago!" I exclaimed, catching sight of a United States flagfloating majestically from a bamboo-pole. "Give me the megaphone, ifyou please. "

She handed me the instrument; I hailed the shore; and presently a manappeared under the palms at the water's edge. 

"Hello!" I roared, trying to inject cheerfulness into the hollowbellow. "How are you, professor?"

The answer came distinctly across the water:

"_Who_ is that with you?"

My lips were buried in the megaphone; I strove to speak; I onlyproduced a ghastly, chuckling sound. 

"Of course you expect to tell the truth, " observed the prettystenographer, quietly. 

I removed my lips from the megaphone and looked around at her. Shereturned my gaze with a disturbing smile. 

"I want to mitigate the blow, " I said, hoarsely. "Tell me how. "

"I'm sure I don't know, " she said, sweetly. 

"Well, _I_ do!" I fairly barked, and seizing the megaphone again, Iset it to my lips and roared, "My fiancée!"

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Miss Barrison, in consternation, "I thoughtyou were going to tell the truth!"

"Don't do that or you'll upset us, " I snapped--"I'm telling the truth;I've engaged myself to you; I did it mentally before I bellowed. "

"But--"

"You know as well as I do what engagements mean, " I said, picking upthe oars and digging them deep in the blue water. 

She assented uncertainly. 

A few minutes more of vigorous rowing brought us to a muddy landingunder a cluster of tall palmettos, where a gasoline launch lay. Professor Farrago came down to the shore as I landed, and I walkedahead to meet him. He was the maddest man I ever saw. But I was hismatch, for I was desperate. 

"What the devil--" he began, under his breath. 

"Nonsense!" I said, deliberately. "An engaged woman is practicallymarried already, because marriages are made in heaven. "

"Good Lord!" he gasped, "are you mad, Gilland? I sent for astenographer--"

"Miss Barrison is a stenographer, " I said, calmly; and before he couldrecover I had presented him, and left them face to face, washing myhands of the whole affair. 

Unloading the boat and carrying the luggage up under the palms, Iheard her saying:

"No, I am not in the least afraid of snakes, and I am quite ready tobegin my duties. "

And he: "Mr. Gilland is a young man who--er--lacks practicalexperience. "

And she: "Mr. Gilland has been most thoughtful for my comfort. Thejourney has been perfectly heavenly. "

And he, clumsily: "Ahem!--the--er--celestial aspect of your journeyhas--er--doubtless been colored by--er--the prospect ofyour--er--approaching nuptials--"

She, hastily: "Oh, I do not think so, professor. "

"Idiot!" I muttered, dragging the dog to the shore, where his yelpsbrought the professor hurrying. 

"Is _that_ the dog?" he inquired, adjusting his spectacles. 

"That's the dog, " I said. "He's full of points, you see?"

"Oh, " mused the professor; "I thought he was full of--" He hesitated, inspecting the animal, who, nose to the ground, stood investigating asmell of some sort. 

"See, " I said, with enthusiasm, "he's found a scent; he's trailing italready! Now he's rolling on it!"

"He's rolling on one of our concentrated food lozenges, " said theprofessor, dryly. "Tie him up, Mr. Gilland, and ask Mrs. Gilland tocome up to camp. Your room is ready. "

"Rooms, " I corrected; "she isn't Mrs. Gilland yet, " I added, with aforced smile. 

"But you're practically married, " observed the professor, "as youpointed out to me. And if she's practically Mrs. Gilland, why not sayso?"

"Don't, all the same, " I snarled. 

"But marriages are made in--"

I cast a desperate eye upon him. 

From that moment, whenever we were alone together, he made a target ofme. I never had supposed him humorously vindictive; he was, and hisapparently innocent mistakes almost turned my hair gray. 

But to Miss Barrison he was kind and courteous, and for a timeover-serious. Observing him, I could never detect the slightestsymptom of dislike for her sex--a failing which common rumor hadalways credited him with to the verge of absolute rudeness. 

On the contrary, it was perfectly plain to anybody that he liked her. There was in his manner towards her a mixture of business formalityand the deferential attitude of a gentleman. 

We were seated, just before sunset, outside of the hut built ofpalmetto logs, when Professor Farrago, addressing us both, began theexplanation of our future duties. 

Miss Barrison, it appeared, was to note everything said by himself, making several shorthand copies by evening. In other words, she was toreport every scrap of conversation she heard while in the Everglades. And she nodded intelligently as he finished, and drew pad and pencilfrom the pocket of her walking-skirt, jotting down his instructions asa beginning. I could see that he was pleased. 

"The reason I do this, " he said, "is because I do not wish to hideanything that transpires while we are on this expedition. Only themost scrupulously minute record can satisfy me; no details are toosmall to merit record; I demand and I court from my fellow-scientistsand from the public the fullest investigation. "

He smiled slightly, turning towards me. 

"You know, Mr. Gilland, how dangerous to the reputation of ascientific man is any line of investigation into the unusual. If a manonce is even suspected of charlatanism, of sensationalism, of turninghis attention to any phenomena not strictly within the proper pale ofscientific investigation, that man is doomed to ridicule; hisprofession disowns him; he becomes a man without honor, withoutauthority. Is it not so?"

"Yes, " I said. 

"Therefore, " he resumed, thoughtfully, "as I do most firmly believe inthe course I am now pursuing, whether I succeed or fail I desire atrue and minute record made, hiding nothing of what may be said ordone. A stenographer alone can give this to the world, while I canonly supplement it with a description of events--if I live totranscribe them. "

Sunk in profound reverie he sat there silent under the great, smoothpalm-tree--a venerable figure in his yellow dressing-gown and carpetslippers. Seated side by side, we waited, a trifle awed. I could hearthe soft breathing of the pretty stenographer beside me. 

"First of all, " said Professor Farrago, looking up, "I must be able totrust those who are here to aid me. "

"I--I will be faithful, " said the girl, in a low voice. 

"I do not doubt you, my child, " he said; "nor you, Gilland. And so Iam going to tell you this much now--more, I hope, later. "

And he sat up straight, lifting an impressive forefinger. 

"Mr. Rowan, lately an officer of our Coast Survey, wrote me a letterfrom the Holland House in New York--a letter so strange that, onreading it, I immediately repaired to his hotel, where for hours wetalked together. 

"The result of that conference is this expedition. 

"I have now been here two months, and I am satisfied of certain facts. First, there do exist in this unexplored wilderness certain forms oflife which are solid and palpable, but transparent and practicallyinvisible. Second, these living creatures belong to the animalkingdom, are warm-blooded vertebrates, possess powers of locomotion, but whether that of flight I am not certain. Third, they appear topossess such senses as we enjoy--smell, touch, sight, hearing, and nodoubt the sense of taste. Fourth, their skin is smooth to the touch, and the temperature of the epidermis appears to approximate that of anormal human being. Fifth and last, whether bipeds or quadrupeds I donot know, though all evidence appears to confirm my theory that theywalk erect. One pair of their limbs appear to terminate in a sort offoot--like a delicately shaped human foot, except that there appear tobe no toes. The other pair of limbs terminate in something that, fromthe single instance I experienced, seemed to resemble soft but firmantennæ or, perhaps, digitated palpi--"

"Feelers!" I blurted out. 

"I don't know, but I think so. Once, when I was standing in theforest, perfectly aware that creatures I could not see had stealthilysurrounded me, the tension was brought to a crisis when over my face, from cheek to chin, stole a soft something, brushing the skin asdelicately as a child's fingers might brush it. "

"Good Lord!" I breathed. 

A care-worn smile crept into his eyes. "A test for nerves, you think, Mr. Gilland? I agree with you. Nobody fears what anybody can see. "

There came the slightest movement beside me. 

"Are you trembling?" I asked, turning. 

"I was writing, " she replied, steadily. "Did my elbow touch you?"

"By-the-way, " said Professor Farrago, "I fear I forgot to congratulateyou upon your choice of a stenographer, Mr. Gilland. "

A rosy light stole over her pale face. 

"Am I to record that too?" she asked, raising her blue eyes. 

"Certainly, " he replied, gravely. 

"But, professor, " I began, a prey to increasing excitement, "do youpropose to attempt the capture of one of these animals?"

"That is what the cage is for, " he said. "I supposed you had guessedthat. "

"I had, " murmured the pretty stenographer. 

"I do not doubt it, " said Professor Farrago, gravely. 

"What are the chemicals for--and the tank and hose attachment?"

"Think, Mr. Gilland. "

"I can't; I'm almost stunned by what you tell me. "

He laughed. "The rosium oxide and salts of strontium are to be dumpedinto the tank together. They'll effervesce, of course. "

"Of course, " I muttered. 

"And I can throw a rose-colored spray over any object by the hoseattachment, can't I?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I tried it on a transparent jelly-fish and it became perfectlyvisible and of a beautiful rose-color: and I tried it on rock-crystal, and on glass, and on pure gelatine, and all became suffused with adelicate pink glow, which lasted for hours or minutes according to thesubstance. .. . Now you understand, don't you?"

"Yes; you want to see what sort of creature you have to deal with. "

"Exactly; so when I've trapped it I am going to spray it. " He turnedhalf humorously towards the stenographer: "I fancy you understood longbefore Mr. Gilland did. "

"I don't think so, " she said, with a sidelong lifting of the heavylashes; and I caught the color of her eyes for a second. 

"You see how Miss Barrison spares your feelings, " observed ProfessorFarrago, dryly. "She owes you little gratitude for bringing her here, yet she proves a generous victim. "

"Oh, I am very grateful for this rarest of chances!" she said, shyly. "To be among the first in the world to discover such wonders ought tomake me very grateful to the man who gave me the opportunity. "

"Do you mean Mr. Gilland?" asked the professor, laughing. 

I had never before seen Professor Farrago laugh such a care-freelaugh; I had never suspected him of harboring even an embryo of thesocial graces. Dry as dust, sapless as steel, precise as the magneticneedle, he had hitherto been to me the mummified embodiment of sciencemilitant. Now, in the guise of a perfectly human and genial oldgentleman, I scarcely recognized my superior of the Bronx Parksociety. And as a woman-hater he was a miserable failure. 

"Heavens, " I thought to myself, "am I becoming jealous of my reveredprofessor's social success with a stray stenographer?" I felt mean, and I probably looked it, and I was glad that telepathy did not permitMiss Barrison to record my secret and unworthy ruminations. 

The professor was saying: "These transparent creatures break offberries and fruits and branches; I have seen a flower, too, pluckedfrom its stem by invisible digits and borne swiftly through theforest--only the flower visible, apparently speeding through the airand out of sight among the thickets. 

"I have found the footprints that I described to you, usually on theedge of a stream or in the soft loam along some forest lake or lostlagoon. 

"Again and again I have been conscious in the forest that unseen eyeswere fixed on me, that unseen shapes were following me. Never but thatone time did these invisible creatures close in around me and ventureto touch me. 

"They may be weak; their structure may be frail, and they may beincapable of violence or harm, but the depth of the footprintsindicates a weight of at least one hundred and thirty pounds, and itcertainly requires some muscular strength to break off a branch ofwild guavas. "

He bent his noble head, thoughtfully regarding the design on hisslippers. 

"What was the rifle for?" I asked. 

"Defence, not aggression, " he said, simply. 

"And the camera?"

"A camera record is necessary in these days of bad artists. "

I hesitated, glancing at Miss Barrison. She was still writing, herpretty head bent over the pad in her lap. 

"And the clothing?" I asked, carelessly. 

"Did you get it?" he demanded. 

"Of course--" I glanced at Miss Barrison. "There's no use writing downeverything, is there?"

"Everything must be recorded, " said Professor Farrago, inflexibly. "What clothing did you buy?"

"I forgot the gown, " I said, getting red about the ears. 

"Forgot the gown!" he repeated. 

"Yes--one kind of gown--the day kind. I--I got the other kind. "

He was annoyed; so was I. After a moment he got up, and crossing tothe log cabin, opened one of the boxes of apparel. 

"Is it what you wanted?" I inquired. 

"Y-es, I presume so, " he replied, visibly perplexed. 

"It's the best to be had, " said I. 

"That's quite right, " he said, musingly. "We use only the best ofeverything at Bronx Park. It is traditional with us, you know. "

Curiosity pushed me. "Well, what on earth is it for?" I broke out. 

He looked at me gravely over the tops of his spectacles--a strikingand inspiring figure in his yellow flannel dressing-gown andslippers. 

"I shall tell you some day--perhaps, " he said, mildly. "Good-night, Miss Barrison; good-night, Mr. Gilland. You will find extra blanketson your bunk--"

"What!" I cried. 

"Bunks, " he said, and shut the door. 

XVI

"There is something weird about this whole proceeding, " I observed tothe pretty stenographer next morning. 

"These pies will be weird if you don't stop talking to me, " she said, opening the doors of Professor Farrago's portable camping-oven andpeeping in at the fragrant pastry. 

The professor had gone off somewhere into the woods early thatmorning. As he was not in the habit of talking to himself, theservices of Miss Barrison were not required. Before he started, however, he came to her with a request for a dozen pies, theconstruction of which he asked if she understood. She had been tocooking-school in more prosperous days, and she mentioned it; so athis earnest solicitation she undertook to bake for him twelveapple-pies; and she was now attempting it, assisted by advice from me. 

"Are they burned?" I asked, sniffing the air. 

"No, they are not burned, Mr. Gilland, but my finger is, " sheretorted, stepping back to examine the damage. 

I offered sympathy and witch-hazel, but she would have none of myofferings, and presently returned to her pies. 

"We can't eat all that pastry, " I protested. 

"Professor Farrago said they were not for us to eat, " she said, dusting each pie with powdered sugar. 

"Well, what are they for? The dog? Or are they simply objets d'art toadorn the shanty--"

"You annoy me, " she said. 

"The pies annoy me; won't you tell me what they're for?"

"I have a pretty fair idea what they're for, " she observed, tossingher head. "Haven't you?"

"No. What?"

"These pies are for bait. "

"To bait hooks with?" I exclaimed. 

"Hooks! No, you silly man. They're for baiting the cage. He means totrap these transparent creatures in a cage baited with pie. "

She laughed scornfully; inserted the burned tip of her finger in hermouth and stood looking at me defiantly like a flushed and bright-eyedschool-girl. 

"You think you're teasing me, " she said; "but you do not realize whata singularly slow-minded young man you are. "

I stopped laughing. "How did you come to the conclusion that pies wereto be used for such a purpose?" I asked. 

"I deduce, " she observed, with an airy wave of her disengaged hand. 

"Your deductions are weird--like everything else in this vicinity. Pies to catch invisible monsters? Pooh!"

"You're not particularly complimentary, are you?" she said. 

"Not particularly; but I could be, with you for my inspiration. Icould even be enthusiastic--"

"About my pies?"

"No--about your eyes. "

"You are very frivolous--for a scientist, " she said, scornfully;"please subdue your enthusiasm and bring me some wood. This fire isalmost out. "

When I had brought the wood, she presented me with a pail of hot waterand pointed at the dishes on the breakfast-table. 

"Never!" I cried, revolted. 

"Then I suppose I must do them--"

She looked pensively at her scorched finger-tip, and, pursing up herred lips, blew a gentle breath to cool it. 

"I'll do the dishes, " I said. 

Splashing and slushing the cups and saucers about in the hot water, Ireflected upon the events of the last few days. The dog, stupefied byunwonted abundance of food, lay in the sunshine, sleeping the sleep ofrepletion; the pretty stenographer, all rosy from her culinaryexertions, was removing the pies and setting them in neat rows tocool. 

"There, " she said, with a sigh; "now I will dry the dishes for you. .. . You didn't mention the fact, when you engaged me, that I was alsoexpected to do general housework. "

"I didn't engage you, " I said, maliciously; "you engaged me, youknow. "

She regarded me disdainfully, nose uptilted. 

"How thoroughly disagreeable you can be!" she said. "Dry your owndishes. I'm going for a stroll. "

"May I join--"

"You may _not_! I shall go so far that you cannot possibly discoverme. "

I watched her forestward progress; she sauntered for about thirtyyards along the lake and presently sat down in plain sight under ahuge live-oak. 

A few moments later I had completed my task as general bottle-washer, and I cast about for something to occupy me. 

First I approached and politely caressed the satiated dog. He woke up, regarded me with dully meditative eyes, yawned, and went to sleepagain. Never a flop of tail to indicate gratitude for blandishments, never the faintest symptom of canine appreciation. 

Chilled by my reception, I moused about for a while, poking into boxesand bundles; then raised my head and inspected the landscape. Throughthe vista of trees the pink shirt-waist of the pretty stenographerglimmered like a rose blooming in the wilderness. 

From whatever point I viewed the prospect that pink spot seemed tointrude; I turned my back and examined the jungle, but there it wasrepeated in a hundred pink blossoms among the massed thickets; Ilooked up into the tree-tops, where pink mosses spotted the palms; Ilooked out over the lake, and I saw it in my mind's eye pinker thanever. It was certainly a case of pink-eye. 

"I'll go for a stroll, too; it's a free country, " I muttered. 

After I had strolled in a complete circle I found myself within threefeet of a pink shirt-waist. 

"I beg your pardon, " I said; "I had no inten--"

"I thought you were never coming, " she said, amiably. 

"How is your finger?" I asked. 

She held it up. I took it gingerly; it was smooth and faintly rosy atthe tip. 

"Does it hurt?" I inquired. 

"Dreadfully. Your hands feel so cool--"

After a silence she said, "Thank you, that has cooled the burning. "

"I am determined, " said I, "to expel the fire from your finger if ittakes hours and hours. " And I seated myself with that intention. 

For a while she talked, making innocent observations concerning thetropical foliage surrounding us. Then silence crept in between us, accentuated by the brooding stillness of the forest. 

"I am afraid your hands are growing tired, " she said, considerately. 

I denied it. 

Through the vista of palms we could see the lake, blue as a violet, sparkling with silvery sunshine. In the intense quiet the splash ofleaping mullet sounded distinctly. 

Once a tall crane stalked into view among the sedges; once an unseenalligator shook the silence with his deep, hollow roaring. Then thestillness of the wilderness grew more intense. 

We had been sitting there for a long while without exchanging a word, dreamily watching the ripple of the azure water, when all at oncethere came a scurrying patter of feet through the forest, and, lookingup, I beheld the hound-dog, tail between his legs, bearing down on usat lightning speed. I rose instantly. 

"What is the matter with the dog?" cried the pretty stenographer. "Ishe going mad, Mr. Gilland?"

"Something has scared him, " I exclaimed, as the dog, eyes like lightedcandles, rushed frantically between my legs and buried his head inMiss Barrison's lap. 

"Poor doggy!" she said, smoothing the collapsed pup; "poor, p-oorlittle beast! Did anything scare him? Tell aunty all about it. "

When a dog flees _without yelping_ he's a badly frightened creature. Iinstinctively started back towards the camp whence the beast had fled, and before I had taken a dozen steps Miss Barrison was beside me, carrying the dog in her arms. 

"I've an idea, " she said, under her breath. 

"What?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the camp. 

"It's this: I'll wager that we find those pies gone!"

"Pies gone?" I repeated, perplexed; "what makes you think--"

"They _are_ gone!" she exclaimed. "Look!"

I gaped stupidly at the rough pine table where the pies had stood inthree neat rows of four each. And then, in a moment, the purport ofthis robbery flashed upon my senses. 

"The transparent creatures!" I gasped. 

"Hush!" she whispered, clinging to the trembling dog in her arms. 

I listened. I could hear nothing, see nothing, yet slowly I becameconvinced of the presence of something unseen--something in the forestclose by, watching us out of invisible eyes. 

A chill, settling along my spine, crept upward to my scalp, untilevery separate hair wiggled to the roots. Miss Barrison was pale, butperfectly calm and self-possessed. 

"Let us go in-doors, " I said, as steadily as I could. 

"Very well, " she replied. 

I held the door open; she entered with the dog; I followed, closingand barring the door, and then took my station at the window, rifle inhand. 

There was not a sound in the forest. Miss Barrison laid the dog on thefloor and quietly picked up her pad and pencil. Presently she was deepin a report of the phenomena, her pencil flying, leaf after leaf fromthe pad fluttering to the floor. 

Nor did I at the window change my position of scared alertness, untilI was aware of her hand gently touching my elbow to attract myattention, and her soft voice at my ear--

"You don't suppose by any chance that the dog ate those pies?"

I collected my tumultuous thoughts and turned to stare at the dog. 

"Twelve pies, twelve inches each in diameter, " she reflected, musingly. "One dog, twenty inches in diameter. How many times will thepies go into the dog? Let me see. " She made a few figures on her pad, thought awhile, produced a tape-measure from her pocket, and, kneelingdown, measured the dog. 

"No, " she said, looking up at me, "he couldn't contain them. "

Inspired by her coolness and perfect composure, I set the rifle in thecorner and opened the door. Sunlight fell in bars through the quietwoods; nothing stirred on land or water save the great, yellow-stripedbutterflies that fluttered and soared and floated above the floweringthickets bordering the jungle. 

The heat became intense; Miss Barrison went to her room to change hergown for a lighter one; I sat down under a live-oak, eyes and earsstrained for any sign of our invisible neighbors. 

When she emerged in the lightest and filmiest of summer gowns, shebrought the camera with her; and for a while we took pictures of eachother, until we had used up all but one film. 

Desiring to possess a picture of Miss Barrison and myself seatedtogether, I tied a string to the shutter-lever and attached the otherend of the string to the dog, who had resumed his interruptedslumbers. At my whistle he jumped up nervously, snapping the lever, and the picture was taken. 

With such innocent and harmless pastime we whiled away the afternoon. She made twelve more apple-pies. I mounted guard over them. And wewere just beginning to feel a trifle uneasy about Professor Farrago, when he appeared, tramping sturdily through the forest, green umbrellaand butterfly-net under one arm, shot-gun and cyanide-jar under theother, and his breast all criss-crossed with straps, from whichdangled field-glasses, collecting-boxes, and botanizing-tins--aninspiring figure indeed--the embodied symbol of science indomitable, triumphant!

We hailed him with three guilty cheers; the dog woke up with aperfunctory bark--the first sound I had heard from him since he yelpedhis disapproval of me on the lagoon. 

Miss Barrison produced three bowls full of boiling water and droppedthree pellets of concentrated soup-meat into them, while I preparedcoffee. And in a few moments our simple dinner was ready--the redants had been dusted from the biscuits, the spiders chased off thebaked beans, the scorpions shaken from the napkins, and we sat down atthe rough, improvised table under the palms. 

The professor gave us a brief but modest account of his short tour ofexploration. He had brought back a new species of orchid, severalundescribed beetles, and a pocketful of coontie seed. He appeared, however, to be tired and singularly depressed, and presently welearned why. 

It seemed that he had gone straight to that section of the forestwhere he had hitherto always found signs of the transparent andinvisible creatures which he had determined to capture, and he had notfound a single trace of them. 

"It alarms me, " he said, gravely. "If they have deserted this region, it might take a lifetime to locate them again in this wilderness. "

Then, very quietly, sinking her voice instinctively, as though theunseen might be at our very elbows listening, Miss Barrison recountedthe curious adventure which had befallen the dog and the first batchof apple-pies. 

With visible and increasing excitement the professor listened untilthe very end. Then he struck the table with clinched fist--aresounding blow which set the concentrated soup dancing in the bowlsand scattered the biscuits and the industrious red ants in everydirection. 

"Eureka!" he whispered. "Miss Barrison, your deduction was not onlyperfectly reasonable, but brilliant. You are right; the pies are forthat very purpose. I conceived the idea when I first came here. Againand again the pies that my guide made out of dried apples disappearedin a most astonishing and mysterious manner when left to cool. Atlength I determined to watch them every second; and did so, with theresult that late one afternoon I was amazed to see a pie slowly risefrom the table and move swiftly away through the air about four feetabove the ground, finally disappearing into a tangle of jasmine andgrape-vine. 

"The apparently automatic flight of that pie solved the problem; thesetransparent creatures cannot resist that delicacy. Therefore I decidedto bait the cage for them this very night--Look! What's the matterwith that dog?"

The dog suddenly bounded into the air, alighted on all fours, ears, eyes, and muzzle concentrated on a point directly behind us. 

"Good gracious! The pies!" faltered Miss Barrison, half rising fromher seat; but the dog rushed madly into her skirts, scrambling forprotection, and she fell back almost into my arms. 

Clasping her tightly, I looked over my shoulder; the last pie wassnatched from the table before my eyes and I saw it borne swiftly awayby something unseen, straight into the deepening shadows of theforest. 

The professor was singularly calm, even slightly ironical, as heturned to me, saying:

"Perhaps if you relinquish Miss Barrison she may be able to freeherself from that dog. "

I did so immediately, and she deposited the cowering dog in my arms. Her face had suddenly become pink. 

I passed the dog on to Professor Farrago, dumping it viciously intohis lap--a proceeding which struck me as resembling a pastime ofextreme youth known as "button, button, who's got the button?"

The professor examined the animal gravely, feeling its pulse, countingits respirations, and finally inserting a tentative finger in anattempt to examine its tongue. The dog bit him. 

"Ouch! It's a clear case of fright, " he said, gravely. "I wanted a dogto aid me in trailing these remarkable creatures, but I think this dogof yours is useless, Gilland. "

"It's given us warning of the creatures' presence twice already, " Iargued. 

"Poor little thing, " said Miss Barrison, softly; "I don't know why, but I love that dog. .. . He has eyes like yours, Mr. Gilland--"

Exasperated, I rose from the table. "He's got eyes like holes burnedin a blanket!" I said. "And if ever a flicker of intelligence lightedthem I have failed to observe it. "

The professor regarded me dreamily. "We ought to have more pies, " heobserved. "Perhaps if you carried the oven into the shanty--"

"Certainly, " said Miss Barrison; "we can lock the door while I maketwelve more pies. "

I carried the portable camping-oven into the cabin, connected thepatent asbestos chimney-pipes, and lighted the fire. And in a fewminutes Miss Barrison, sleeves rolled up and pink apron pinned underher chin, was busily engaged in rolling pie-crust, while ProfessorFarrago measured out spices and set the dried apples to soak. 

The swift Southern twilight had already veiled the forest as Istepped out of the cabin to smoke a cigar and promenade a bit andcogitate. A last trace of color lingering in the west faded out as Ilooked; the gray glimmer deepened into darkness, through which thewhite lake vapors floated in thin, wavering strata across the water. 

For a while the frog's symphony dominated all other sounds, thenlagoon and forest and cypress branch awoke; and through the steadilysustained tumult of woodland voices I could hear the dry bark of thefox-squirrel, the whistle of the raccoon, ducks softly quacking orwhimpering as they prepared for sleep among the reeds, the softbooming of bitterns, the clattering gossip of the heronry, theSouthern whippoorwill's incessant call. 

At regular intervals the howling note of a lone heron echoed thestrident screech of a crimson-crested crane; the horned owl's savagehunting-cry haunted the night, now near, now floating from infinitedistances. 

And after a while I became aware of a nearer sound, low-pitched butceaseless--the hum of thousands of lesser living creatures blending toa steady monotone. 

Then the theatrical moon came up through filmy draperies of wavingSpanish moss thin as cobwebs; and far in the wilderness a cougar fella-crying and coughing like a little child with a bad cold. 

I went in after that. Miss Barrison was sitting before the oven, kneesgathered in her clasped hands, languidly studying the fire. She lookedup as I appeared, opened the oven-doors, sniffed the aroma, andresumed her attitude of contented indifference. 

"Where is the professor?" I asked. 

"He has retired. He's been talking in his sleep at moments. "

"Better take it down; that's what you're here for, " I observed, closing and holding the outside door. "Ugh! there's a chill in theair. The dew is pelting down from the pines like a steady fall ofrain. "

"You will get fever if you roam about at night, " she said. "Mercy!your coat is soaking. Sit here by the fire. "

So I pulled up a bench and sat down beside her like the traditionalspider. 

"Miss Muffitt, " I said, "don't let me frighten you away--"

"I was going anyhow--"

"Please don't. "

"Why?" she demanded, reseating herself. 

"Because I like to sit beside you, " I said, truthfully. 

"Your avowal is startling and not to be substantiated by facts, " sheremarked, resting her chin on one hand and gazing into the fire. 

"You mean because I went for a stroll by moonlight? I did that becauseyou always seem to make fun of me as soon as the professor joins us. "

"Make fun of you? You surely don't expect me to make eyes at you!"

There was a silence; I toasted my shins, thoughtfully. 

"How is your burned finger?" I asked. 

She lifted it for my inspection, and I began a protracted examination. 

"What would you prescribe?" she inquired, with an absent-minded glanceat the professor's closed door. 

"I don't know; perhaps a slight but firm pressure of thefinger-tips--"

"You tried that this afternoon. "

"But the dog interrupted us--"

"Interrupted _you_. Besides--"

"What?"

"I don't think you ought to, " she said. 

Sitting there before the oven, side by side, hand innocently claspedin hand, we heard the drumming of the dew on the roof, the night-windstirring the palms, the muffled snoring of the professor, the faintwhisper and crackle of the fire. 

A single candle burned brightly, piling our shadows together on thewall behind us; moonlight silvered the window-panes, over whichcrawled multitudes of soft-winged moths, attracted by the candlewithin. 

"See their tiny eyes glow!" she whispered. "How their wings quiver!And all for a candle-flame! Alas! alas! fire is the undoing of usall. "

She leaned forward, resting as though buried in reverie. After a whileshe extended one foot a trifle and, with the point of her shoe, carefully unlatched the oven-door. As it swung outward a deliciousfragrance filled the room. 

"They're done, " she said, withdrawing her hand from mine. "Help me tolift them out. "

Together we arranged the delicious pastry in rows on the bench tocool. I opened the door for a few minutes, then closed and bolted itagain. 

"Do you suppose those transparent creatures will smell the odor andcome around the cabin?" she suggested, wiping her fingers on herhandkerchief. 

I walked to the window uneasily. Outside the pane the moths crawled, some brilliant in scarlet and tan-color set with black, somesnow-white with black tracings on their wings, and bodies peacock-blueedged with orange. The scientist in me was aroused; I called her tothe window, and she came and leaned against the sill, nose pressed tothe glass. 

"I don't suppose you know that the antennæ of that silvery-winged mothare distinctly pectinate, " I said. 

"Of course I do, " she said. "I took my degree as D. E. At BarnardCollege. "

"What!" I exclaimed in astonishment. "You've been through Barnard? Youare a Doctor of Entomology?"

"It was my undoing, " she said. "The department was abolished the yearI graduated. There was no similar vacancy, even in the Smithsonian. "

She shrugged her shoulders, eyes fixed on the moths. "I had to make myown living. I chose stenography as the quickest road toself-sustenance. "

She looked up, a flush on her cheeks. 

"I suppose you took me for an inferior?" she said. "But do you supposeI'd flirt with you if I was?"

She pressed her face to the pane again, murmuring that exquisite poemof Andrew Lang:

 "Spooning is innocuous and needn't have a sequel, But recollect, if spoon you must, spoon only with your equal. "

Standing there, watching the moths, we became rather silent--I don'tknow why. 

The fire in the range had gone out; the candle-flame, flaring above asaucer of melted wax, sank lower and lower. 

Suddenly, as though disturbed by something inside, the moths all leftthe window-pane, darting off in the darkness. 

"That's curious, " I said. 

"What's curious?" she asked, opening her eyes languidly. "Goodgracious! Was that a bat that beat on the window?"

"I saw nothing, " I said, disturbed. "Listen!"

A soft sound against the glass, as though invisible fingers werefeeling the pane--a gentle rubbing--then a tap-tap, all but inaudible. 

"Is it a bird? Can you see?" she whispered. 

The candle-flame behind us flashed and expired. Moonlight flooded thepane. The sounds continued, but there was nothing there. 

We understood now what it was that so gently rubbed and patted theglass outside. With one accord we noiselessly gathered up the pies andcarried them into my room. 

Then she walked to the door of her room, turned, held out her hand, and whispering, "Good-night! A demain, monsieur!" slipped into herroom and softly closed the door. 

And all night long I lay in troubled slumber beside the pies, a rifleresting on the blankets beside me, a revolver under my pillow. And Idreamed of moths with brilliant eyes and vast silvery wings harnessedto a balloon in which Miss Barrison and I sat, arms around each other, eating slice after slice of apple-pie. 

XVII

Dawn came--the dawn of a day that I am destined never to forget. Long, rosy streamers of light broke through the forest, shaking, quivering, like unstable beams from celestial search-lights. Mist floated upwardfrom marsh and lake; and through it the spectral palms loomed, drooping fronds embroidered with dew. 

For a while the ringing outburst of bird music dominated all; but itsoon ceased with dropping notes from the crimson cardinals repeated inlengthening minor intervals; and then the spell of silence returned, broken only by the faint splash of mullet, mocking the sun withsinuous, silver flashes. 

"Good-morning, " said a low voice from the door as I stood encouragingthe camp-fire with splinter wood and dead palmetto fans. 

Fresh and sweet from her toilet as a dew-drenched rose, Miss Barrisonstood there sniffing the morning air daintily, thoroughly. 

"Too much perfume, " she said--"too much like ylang-ylang in adepartment-store. Central Park smells sweeter on an April morning. "

"Are you criticising the wild jasmine?" I asked. 

"I'm criticising an exotic smell. Am I not permitted to comment on thetropics?"

Fishing out a cedar log from the lumber-stack, I fell to chopping itvigorously. The axe-strokes made a cheerful racket through the woods. 

"Did you hear anything last night after you retired?" I asked. 

"Something was at my window--something that thumped softly and seemedto be feeling all over the glass. To tell you the truth, I was sillyenough to remain dressed all night. "

"You don't look it, " I said. 

"Oh, when daylight came I had a chance, " she added, laughing. 

"All the same, " said I, leaning on the axe and watching her, "you areabout the coolest and pluckiest woman I ever knew. "

"We were all in the same fix, " she said, modestly. 

"No, we were not. Now I'll tell you the truth--my hair stood up thegreater part of the night. You are looking upon a poltroon, MissBarrison. "

"Then there was something at your window, too?"

"Something? A dozen! They were monkeying with the sashes and panes allnight long, and I imagined that I could hear them breathing--as thoughfrom effort of intense eagerness. Ouch! I came as near losing my nerveas I care to. I came within an ace of hurling those cursed piesthrough the window at them. I'd bolt to-day if I wasn't afraid to playthe coward. "

"Most people are brave for that reason, " she said. 

The dog, who had slept under my bunk, and who had contributed to myentertainment by sighing and moaning all night, now appeared ready forbusiness--business in his case being the operation of feeding. Ipresented him with a concentrated tablet, which he cautiouslyinvestigated and then rolled on. 

"Nice testimonial for the people who concocted it, " I said, indisgust. "I wish I had an egg. "

"There are some concentrated egg tablets in the shanty, " said MissBarrison; but the idea was not attractive. 

"I refuse to fry a pill for breakfast, " I said, sullenly, and set thecoffee-pot on the coals. 

In spite of the dewy beauty of the morning, breakfast was not acheerful function. Professor Farrago appeared, clad in sun-helmet andkhaki. I had seldom seen him depressed; but he was now, and his veryefforts to disguise it only emphasized his visible anxiety. 

His preparations for the day, too, had an ominous aspect to me. Hegave his orders and we obeyed, instinctively suppressing questions. First, he and I transported all personal luggage of the company to thebig electric launch--Miss Barrison's effects, his, and my own. Hisprivate papers, the stenographic reports, and all memoranda were tiedup together and carried aboard. 

Then, to my surprise, two weeks' concentrated rations for two andmineral water sufficient for the same period were stowed away aboardthe launch. Several times he asked me whether I knew how to run theboat, and I assured him that I did. 

In a short time nothing was left ashore except the bare furnishings ofthe cabin, the female wearing-apparel, the steel cage and chemicalswhich I had brought, and the twelve apple-pies--the latter under lockand key in my room. 

As the preparations came to an end, the professor's gentle melancholyseemed to deepen. Once I ventured to ask him if he was indisposed, andhe replied that he had never felt in better physical condition. 

Presently he bade me fetch the pies; and I brought them, and, at asign from him, placed them inside the steel cage, closing and lockingthe door. 

"I believe, " he said, glancing from Miss Barrison to me, and from meto the dog--"I believe that we are ready to start. "

He went to the cabin and locked the door on the outside, pocketing thekey. 

Then he backed up to the steel cage, stooped and lifted his end as Ilifted mine, and together we started off through the forest, bearingthe cage between us as porters carry a heavy piece of luggage. 

Miss Barrison came next, carrying the trousseau, the tank, hose, andchemicals; and the dog followed her--probably not from affection forus, but because he was afraid to be left alone. 

We walked in silence, the professor and I keeping an instinctivelookout for snakes; but we encountered nothing of that sort. On everyside, touching our shoulders, crowded the closely woven andimpenetrable tangle of the jungle; and we threaded it along a narrowpath which he, no doubt, had cut, for the machete marks were stillfresh, and the blazes on hickory, live-oak, and palm were all wet withdripping sap, and swarming with eager, brilliant butterflies. 

At times across our course flowed shallow, rapid streams of water, clear as crystal, and most alluring to the thirsty. 

"There's fever in every drop, " said the professor, as I mentioned mythirst; "take the bottled water if you mean to stay a little longer. "

"Stay where?" I asked. 

"On earth, " he replied, tersely; and we marched on. 

The beauty of the tropics is marred somewhat for me; under all thefresh splendor of color death lurks in brilliant tints. Where paintedfruit hangs temptingly, where great, silky blossoms exhale alluringscent, where the elaps coils inlaid with scarlet, black, and saffron, where in the shadow of a palmetto frond a succession of velvety blackdiamonds mark the rattler's swollen length, there death is; and hisinvisible consort, horror, creeps where the snake whose mouth is linedwith white creeps--where the tarantula squats, hairy, motionless;where a bit of living enamel fringed with orange undulates along amossy log. 

Thinking of these things, and watchful lest, unawares, terror unfoldfrom some blossoming and leafy covert, I scarcely noticed the beautyof the glade we had entered--a long oval, cross-barred with sunshinewhich fell on hedges of scrub-palmetto, chin high, interlaced withgolden blossoms of the jasmine. And all around, like pillarssupporting a high green canopy above a throne, towered the silverystems of palms fretted with pale, rose-tinted lichens and hung withdraperies of grape-vine. 

"This is the place, " said Professor Farrago. 

His quiet, passionless voice sounded strange to me; his words seemedstrange, too, each one heavily weighted with hidden meaning. 

We set the cage on the ground; he unlocked and opened the steel-barreddoor, and, kneeling, carefully arranged the pies along the centre ofthe cage. 

"I have a curious presentiment, " he said, "that I shall not come outof this experiment unscathed. "

"Don't, for Heaven's sake, say that!" I broke out, my nerves on edgeagain. 

"Why not?" he asked, surprised. "I am not afraid. "

"Not afraid to die?" I demanded, exasperated. 

"Who spoke of dying?" he inquired, mildly. "What I said was that I donot expect to come out of this affair unscathed. "

I did not comprehend his meaning, but I understood the reproofconveyed. 

He closed and locked the cage door again and came towards us, balancing the key across the palm of his hand. 

Miss Barrison had seated herself on the leaves; I stood back as theprofessor sat down beside her; then, at a gesture from him, took theplace he indicated on his left. 

"Before we begin, " he said, calmly, "there are several things youought to know and which I have not yet told you. The first concernsthe feminine wearing apparel which Mr. Gilland brought me. "

He turned to Miss Barrison and asked her whether she had brought acomplete outfit, and she opened the bundle on her knees and handed itto him. 

"I cannot, " he said, "delicately explain in so many words what use Iexpect to make of this apparel. Nor do I yet know whether I shall haveany use at all for it. That can only be a theoretical speculationuntil, within a few more hours, my theory is proven or disproven--and, "he said, suddenly turning on me, "my theory concerning these invisiblecreatures is the most extraordinary and audacious theory everentertained by man since Columbus presumed that there must liesomewhere a hidden continent which nobody had ever seen. "

He passed his hand over his protruding forehead, lost for a moment indeepest reflection. Then, "Have you ever heard of the Sphyx?" heasked. 

"It seems to me that Ponce de Leon wrote of something--" I began, hesitating. 

"Yes, the famous lines in the third volume which have set so many wisemen guessing. You recall them:

"'_And there, alas! within sound of the Fountain of Youth whose waterstint the skin till the whole body glows softly like the petal of arose--there, alas! in the new world already blooming_, THE ETERNALENIGMA _I beheld, in the flesh living; yet it faded even as I looked, although I swear it lived and breathed. This is the Sphyx_. '"

A silence; then I said, "Those lines are meaningless to me. "

"Not to me, " said Miss Barrison, softly. 

The professor looked at her. "Ah, child! Ever subtler, ever surer--theEternal Enigma is no enigma to you. "

"What is the Sphyx?" I asked. 

"Have you read De Soto? Or Goya?"

"Yes, both. I remember now that De Soto records the Syachas legend ofthe Sphyx--something about a goddess--"

"Not a goddess, " said Miss Barrison, her lips touched with a smile. 

"Sometimes, " said the professor, gently. "And Goya said:

"'_It has come to my ears while in the lands of the Syachas that theSphyx surely lives, as bolder and more curious men than I may, Godwilling, prove to the world hereafter_. '"

"But what is the Sphyx?" I insisted. 

"For centuries wise men and savants have asked each other thatquestion. I have answered it for myself; I am now to prove it, Itrust. "

His face darkened, and again and again he stroked his heavy brow. 

"If anything occurs, " he said, taking my hand in his left and MissBarrison's hand in his right, "promise me to obey my wishes. Willyou?"

"Yes, " we said, together. 

"If I lose my life, or--or disappear, promise me on your honor to getto the electric launch as soon as possible and make all speednorthward, placing my private papers, the reports of Miss Barrison, and your own reports in the hands of the authorities in Bronx Park. Don't attempt to aid me; don't delay to search for me. Do youpromise?"

"Yes, " we breathed together. 

He looked at us solemnly. "If you fail me, you betray me, " he said. 

We swore obedience. 

"Then let us begin, " he said, and he rose and went to the steel cage. Unlocking the door, he flung it wide and stepped inside, leaving thecage door open. 

"The moment a single pie is disturbed, " he said to me, "I shall closethe steel door from the inside, and you and Miss Barrison will thendump the rosium oxide and the strontium into the tank, clap on thelid, turn the nozzle of the hose on the cage, and spray itthoroughly. Whatever is invisible in the cage will become visible andof a faint rose color. And when the trapped creature becomes visible, hold yourselves ready to aid me as long as I am able to give youorders. After that either all will go well or all will go otherwise, and you must run for the launch. " He seated himself in the cage nearthe open door. 

I placed the steel tank near the cage, uncoiled the hose attachment, unscrewed the top, and dumped in the salts of strontium. Miss Barrisonunwrapped the bottle of rosium oxide and loosened the cork. Weexamined this pearl-and-pink powder and shook it up so that it mightrun out quickly. Then Miss Barrison sat down, and presently becameabsorbed in a stenographic report of the proceedings up to date. 

When Miss Barrison finished her report she handed me the bundle ofpapers. I stowed them away in my wallet, and we sat down togetherbeside the tank. 

Inside the cage Professor Farrago was seated, his spectacled eyesfixed on the row of pies. For a while, although realizing perfectlythat our quarry was transparent and invisible, we unconsciouslystrained our eyes in quest of something stirring in the forest. 

"I should think, " said I, in a low voice, "that the odor of the piesmight draw at least one out of the odd dozen that came rubbing upagainst my window last night. "

"Hush! Listen!" she breathed. But we heard nothing save the snoring ofthe overfed dog at our feet. 

"He'll give us ample notice by butting into Miss Barrison's skirts, " Iobserved. "No need of our watching, professor. "

The professor nodded. Presently he removed his spectacles and lay backagainst the bars, closing his eyes. 

At first the forest silence seemed cheerful there in the fleckedsunlight. The spotted wood-gnats gyrated merrily, chased bydragon-flies; the shy wood-birds hopped from branch to twig, peeringat us in friendly inquiry; a lithe, gray squirrel, plumy tailundulating, rambled serenely around the cage, sniffing at the pastrywithin. 

Suddenly, without apparent reason, the squirrel sprang to atree-trunk, hung a moment on the bark, quivering all over, then dashedaway into the jungle. 

"Why did he act like that?" whispered Miss Barrison. And, after amoment: "How still it is! Where have the birds gone?"

In the ominous silence the dog began to whimper in his sleep and hishind legs kicked convulsively. 

"He's dreaming--" I began. 

The words were almost driven down my throat by the dog, who, without ayelp of warning, hurled himself at Miss Barrison and alighted on mychest, fore paws around my neck. 

I cast him scornfully from me, but he scrambled back, digging like amole to get under us. 

"The transparent creatures!" whispered Miss Barrison. "Look! See thatpie move!"

I sprang to my feet just as the professor, jamming on his spectacles, leaned forward and slammed the cage door. 

"I've got one!" he shouted, frantically. "There's one in the cage!Turn on that hose!"

"Wait a second, " said Miss Barrison, calmly, uncorking the bottle andpouring a pearly stream of rosium oxide into the tank. "Quick! It'sfizzing! Screw on the top!"

In a second I had screwed the top fast, seized the hose, and directeda hissing cloud of vapor through the cage bars. 

For a moment nothing was heard save the whistling rush of the perfumedspray escaping; a delicious odor of roses filled the air. Then, slowly, there in the sunshine, a misty something grew in the cage--aglistening, pearl-tinted phantom, imperceptibly taking shape inspace--vague at first as a shred of lake vapor, then lengthening, rounding into flowing form, clearer, clearer. 

"The Sphyx!" gasped the professor. "In the name of Heaven, play thathose!"

As he spoke the treacherous hose burst. A showery pillar ofrose-colored vapor enveloped everything. Through the thickening fogfor one brief instant a human form appeared like magic--a woman'sform, flawless, exquisite as a statue, pure as marble. Then theswimming vapor buried it, cage, pies, and all. 

We ran frantically around, the cage in the obscurity, appealing forinstructions and feeling for the bars. Once the professor's muffledvoice was heard demanding the wearing apparel, and I groped about andfound it and stuffed it through the bars of the cage. 

"Do you need help?" I shouted. There was no response. Staring aroundthrough the thickening vapor of rosium rolling in clouds from theoverturned tank, I heard Miss Barrison's voice calling:

"I can't move! A transparent lady is holding me!"

Blindly I rushed about, arms outstretched, and the next moment struckthe door of the cage so hard that the impact almost knocked mesenseless. Clutching it to steady myself, it suddenly flew open. Arush of partly visible creatures passed me like a burst of pinkflames, and in the midst, borne swiftly away on the crest of theoutrush, the professor passed like a bolt shot from a catapult; andhis last cry came wafted back to me from the forest as I swayed there, drunk with the stupefying perfume: "Don't worry! I'm all right!"

I staggered out into the clearer air towards a figure seen dimlythrough swirling vapor. 

"Are you hurt?" I stammered, clasping Miss Barrison in my arms. 

"No--oh no, " she said, wringing her hands. "But the professor! I sawhim! I could not scream; I could not move! _They_ had him!"

"I saw him too, " I groaned. "There was not one trace of terror on hisface. He was actually smiling. "

Overcome at the sublime courage of the man, we wept in each other'sarms. 

 * * * * *

True to our promise to Professor Farrago, we made the best of our waynorthward; and it was not a difficult journey by any means, the voyagein the launch across Okeechobee being perfectly simple and the trailto the nearest railroad station but a few easy miles from thelanding-place. 

Shocking as had been our experience, dreadful as was the calamitywhich had not only robbed me of a life-long friend, but had alsobereaved the entire scientific world, I could not seem to feel thatdesperate and hopeless grief which the natural decease of a closefriend might warrant. No; there remained a vague expectancy which sodominated my sorrow that at moments I became hopeful--nay, sanguine, that I should one day again behold my beloved superior in the flesh. There was something so happy in his last smile, something so artlesslypleased, that I was certain no fear of impending dissolution worriedhim as he disappeared into the uncharted depth of the unknownEverglades. 

I think Miss Barrison agreed with me, too. She appeared to be more orless dazed, which was, of course, quite natural; and during our returnvoyage across Okeechobee and through the lagoons and forests beyondshe was very silent. 

When we reached the railroad at Portulacca, a thrifty lemon-growingranch on the Volusia and Chinkapin Railway, the first thing I did wasto present my dog to the station-agent--but I was obliged to give himfive dollars before he consented to accept the dog. 

However, Miss Barrison interviewed the station-master's wife, akindly, pitiful soul, who promised to be a good mistress to thecreature. We both felt better after that was off our minds; we feltbetter still when the north-bound train rolled leisurely into thewhite glare of Portulacca, and presently rolled out again, quite asleisurely, bound, thank Heaven, for that abused aggregation of sinfulboroughs called New York. 

Except for one young man whom I encountered in the smoker, we had thetrain to ourselves, a circumstance which, curiously enough, appearedto increase Miss Barrison's depression, and my own as a naturalsequence. The circumstances of the taking off of Professor Farragoappeared to engross her thoughts so completely that it made me uneasyduring our trip out from Little Sprite--in fact it was growing plainerto me every hour that in her brief acquaintance with thatdistinguished scientist she had become personally attached to him toan extent that began to worry me. Her personal indignation at thecaged Sphyx flared out at unexpected intervals, and there could be nodoubt that her unhappiness and resentment were becoming morbid. 

I spent an hour or two in the smoking compartment, tenanted only by asingle passenger and myself. He was an agreeable young man, although, in the natural acquaintanceship that we struck up, I regretted tolearn that he was a writer of popular fiction, returning from FortWorth, where he had been for the sole purpose of composing a poem onFlorida. 

I have always, in common with other mentally balanced savants, despised writers of fiction. All scientists harbor a natural antipathyto romance in any form, and that antipathy becomes a deep horror iffiction dares to deal flippantly with the exact sciences, or if somedegraded intellect assumes the warrantless liberty of using naturalhistory as the vehicle for silly tales. 

Never but once had I been tempted to romance in any form; never butonce had sentiment interfered with a passionless transfer ofscientific notes to the sanctuary of the unvarnished note-book or thecloister of the juiceless monograph. Nor have I the slightest approachto that superficial and doubtful quality known as literary skill. Once, however, as I sat alone in the middle of the floor, classifyingmy isopods, I was not only astonished but totally unprepared to findmyself repeating aloud a verse that I myself had unconsciouslyfashioned:

 "An isopod Is a work of God. "

Never before in all my life had I made a rhyme; and it worried me forweeks, ringing in my brain day and night, confusing me, interferingwith my thoughts. 

I said as much to the young man, who only laughed good-naturedly andreplied that it was the Creator's purpose to limit certain intellects, nobody knows why, and that it was apparent that mine had not escaped. 

"There's one thing, however, " he said, "that might be of some interestto you and come within the circumscribed scope of your intelligence. "

"And what is that?" I asked, tartly. 

"A scientific experience of mine, " he said, with a careless laugh. "It's so much stranger than fiction that even Professor BruceStoddard, of Columbia, hesitated to credit it. "

I looked at the young fellow suspiciously. His bland smile disarmedme, but I did not invite him to relate his experience, although heapparently needed only that encouragement to begin. 

"Now, if I could tell it exactly as it occurred, " he observed, "and astenographer could take it down, word for word, exactly as I relateit--"

"It would give me great pleasure to do so, " said a quiet voice at thedoor. We rose at once, removing the cigars from our lips; but MissBarrison bade us continue smoking, and at a gesture from her weresumed our seats after she had installed herself by the window. 

"Really, " she said, looking coldly at me, "I couldn't endure thesolitude any longer. Isn't there anything to do on this tiresometrain?"

"If you had your pad and pencil, " I began, maliciously, "you mighttake down a matter of interest--"

She looked frankly at the young man, who laughed in that pleasant, good-tempered manner of his, and offered to tell us of his allegedscientific experience if we thought it might amuse us sufficiently tovary the dull monotony of the journey north. 

"Is it fiction?" I asked, point-blank. 

"It is absolute truth, " he replied. 

I rose and went off to find pad and pencil. When I returned MissBarrison was laughing at a story which the young man had justfinished. 

"But, " he ended, gravely, "I have practically decided to renouncefiction as a means of livelihood and confine myself to simple, uninteresting statistics and facts. "

"I am very glad to hear you say that, " I exclaimed, warmly. He bowed, looked at Miss Barrison, and asked her when he might begin his story. 

"Whenever you are ready, " replied Miss Barrison, smiling in a mannerwhich I had not observed since the disappearance of Professor Farrago. I'll admit that the young fellow was superficially attractive. 

"Well, then, " he began, modestly, "having no technical abilityconcerning the affair in question, and having no knowledge of eithercomparative anatomy or zoology, I am perhaps unfitted to tell thisstory. But the story is true; the episode occurred under my owneyes--within a few hours' sail of the Battery. And as I was one of thefirst persons to verify what has long been a theory among scientists, and, moreover, as the result of Professor Holroyd's discovery is tobe placed on exhibition in Madison Square Garden on the 20th of nextmonth, I have decided to tell you, as simply as I am able, exactlywhat occurred. 

"I first told the story on April 1, 1903, to the editors of the _NorthAmerican Review_, _The Popular Science Monthly_, the _ScientificAmerican_, _Nature_, _Outing_, and the _Fossiliferous Magazine_. Allthese gentlemen rejected it; some curtly informing me that fiction hadno place in their columns. When I attempted to explain that it was notfiction, the editors of these periodicals either maintained acontemptuous silence, or bluntly notified me that my literary servicesand opinions were not desired. But finally, when several publishersoffered to take the story as fiction, I cut short all negotiations anddecided to publish it myself. Where I am known at all, it is mymisfortune to be known as a writer of fiction. This makes itimpossible for me to receive a hearing from a scientific audience. Iregret it bitterly, because now, when it is too late, I am prepared toprove certain scientific matters of interest, and to produce theproofs. In this case, however, I am fortunate, for nobody can disputethe existence of a thing when the bodily proof is exhibited asevidence. 

"This is the story; and if I tell it as I write fiction, it is becauseI do not know how to tell it otherwise. 

"I was walking along the beach below Pine Inlet, on the south shore ofLong Island. The railroad and telegraph station is at West Oyster Bay. Everybody who has travelled on the Long Island Railroad knows thestation, but few, perhaps, know Pine Inlet. Duck-shooters, of course, are familiar with it; but as there are no hotels there, and nothingto see except salt meadow, salt creek, and a strip of dune and sand, the summer-squatting public may probably be unaware of its existence. The local name for the place is Pine Inlet; the maps give its name asSand Point, I believe, but anybody at West Oyster Bay can direct youto it. Captain McPeek, who keeps the West Oyster Bay House, drivesduck-shooters there in winter. It lies five miles southeast from WestOyster Bay. 

"I had walked over that afternoon from Captain McPeek's. There was areason for my going to Pine Inlet--it embarrasses me to explain it, but the truth is I meditated writing an ode to the ocean. It was outof the question to write it in West Oyster Bay, with the whistle oflocomotives in my ears. I knew that Pine Inlet was one of theloneliest places on the Atlantic coast; it is out of sight ofeverything except leagues of gray ocean. Rarely one might make outfishing-smacks drifting across the horizon. Summer squatters nevervisited it; sportsmen shunned it, except in winter. Therefore, as Iwas about to do a bit of poetry, I thought that Pine Inlet was thespot for the deed. So I went there. 

"As I was strolling along the beach, biting my pencil reflectively, tremendously impressed by the solitude and the solemn thunder of thesurf, a thought occurred to me--how unpleasant it would be if Isuddenly stumbled on a summer boarder. As this joyless impossibilityflitted across my mind, I rounded a bleak sand-dune. 

"A girl stood directly in my path. 

"She stared at me as though I had just crawled up out of the sea tobite her. I don't know what my own expression resembled, but I havebeen given to understand it was idiotic. 

"Now I perceived, after a few moments, that the young lady wasfrightened, and I knew I ought to say something civil. So I said, 'Arethere many mosquitoes here?'

"'No, ' she replied, with a slight quiver in her voice; 'I have onlyseen one, and it was biting somebody else. '

"The conversation seemed so futile, and the young lady appeared to bemore nervous than before. I had an impulse to say, 'Do not run; I havebreakfasted, ' for she seemed to be meditating a flight into thebreakers. What I did say was: 'I did not know anybody was here. I donot intend to intrude. I come from Captain McPeek's, and I am writingan ode to the ocean. ' After I had said this it seemed to ring in myears like, 'I come from Table Mountain, and my name is TruthfulJames. '

"I glanced timidly at her. 

"'She's thinking of the same thing, ' said I to myself. 

"However, the young lady seemed to be a trifle reassured. I noticedshe drew a sigh of relief and looked at my shoes. She looked so longthat it made me suspicious, and I also examined my shoes. They seemedto be in a fair state of repair. 

"'I--I am sorry, ' she said, 'but would you mind not walking on thebeach?'

"This was sudden. I had intended to retire and leave the beach to her, but I did not fancy being driven away so abruptly. 

"'Dear me!' she cried; 'you don't understand. I do not--I would notthink for a moment of asking you to leave Pine Inlet. I merelyventured to request you to walk on the dunes. I am so afraid that yourfootprints may obliterate the impressions that my father is studying. '

"'Oh!' said I, looking about me as though I had been caught in themiddle of a flower-bed; 'really I did not notice any impressions. Impressions of what?'

"'I don't know, ' she said, smiling a little at my awkward pose. 'Ifyou step this way in a straight line you can do no damage. '

"I did as she bade me. I suppose my movements resembled the gait of awet peacock. Possibly they recalled the delicate manoeuvres of thekangaroo. Anyway, she laughed. 

"This seriously annoyed me. I had been at a disadvantage; I walk wellenough when let alone. 

"'You can scarcely expect, ' said I, 'that a man absorbed in his ownideas could notice impressions on the sand. I trust I have obliteratednothing. '

"As I said this I looked back at the long line of footprintsstretching away in prospective across the sand. They were my own. Howlarge they looked! Was that what she was laughing at?

"'I wish to explain, ' she said, gravely, looking at the point of herparasol. 'I am very sorry to be obliged to warn you--to ask you toforego the pleasure of strolling on a beach that does not belong tome. Perhaps, ' she continued, in sudden alarm, 'perhaps this beachbelongs to you?'

"'The beach? Oh no, ' I said. 

"'But--but you were going to write poems about it?'

"'Only one--and that does not necessitate owning the beach. I haveobserved, ' said I, frankly, 'that the people who own nothing writemany poems about it. '

"She looked at me seriously. 

"'I write many poems, ' I added. 

"She laughed doubtfully. 

"'Would you rather I went away?' I asked, politely. 'My family isrespectable, ' I added; and I told her my name. 

"'Oh! Then you wrote _Culled Cowslips_ and _Faded Fig-Leaves_ and youimitate Maeterlinck, and you--Oh, I know lots of people that youknow;' she cried, with every symptom of relief; 'and you know mybrother. '

"'I am the author, ' said I, coldly, 'of _Culled Cowslips_, but _FadedFig-Leaves_ was an earlier work, which I no longer recognize, and Ishould be grateful to you if you would be kind enough to deny that Iever imitated Maeterlinck. Possibly, ' I added, 'he imitates me. '

"She was very quiet, and I saw she was sorry. 

"'Never mind, ' I said, magnanimously, 'you probably are not familiarwith modern literature. If I knew your name I should ask permission topresent myself. '

"'Why, I am Daisy Holroyd, ' she said. 

"'What! Jack Holroyd's little sister?'

"'Little?' she cried. 

"'I didn't mean that, ' said I. 'You know that your brother and I weregreat friends in Paris--'

"'I know, ' she said, significantly. 

"'Ahem! Of course, ' I said, 'Jack and I were inseparable--'

"'Except when shut in separate cells, ' said Miss Holroyd, coldly. 

"This unfeeling allusion to the unfortunate termination of aLatin-Quarter celebration hurt me. 

"'The police, ' said I, 'were too officious. '

"'So Jack says, ' replied Miss Holroyd, demurely. 

"We had unconsciously moved on along the sand-hills, side by side, aswe spoke. 

"'To think, ' I repeated, 'that I should meet Jack's little--'

"'Please, ' she said, 'you are only three years my senior. '

"She opened the sunshade and tipped it over one shoulder. It waswhite, and had spots and posies on it. 

"'Jack sends us every new book you write, ' she observed. 'I do notapprove of some things you write. '

"'Modern school, ' I mumbled. 

"'That is no excuse, ' she said, severely; 'Anthony Trollope didn't doit. '

"The foam spume from the breakers was drifting across the dunes, andthe little tip-up snipe ran along the beach and teetered and whistledand spread their white-barred wings for a low, straight flight acrossthe shingle, only to tip and run and sail on again. The salt sea-windwhistled and curled through the crested waves, blowing in perfumedpuffs across thickets of sweet bay and cedar. As we passed through thecrackling juicy-stemmed marsh-weed myriads of fiddler crabs raisedtheir fore-claws in warning and backed away, rustling, through thereeds, aggressive, protesting. 

"'Like millions of pygmy Ajaxes defying the lightning, ' I said. 

"Miss Holroyd laughed. 

"'Now I never imagined that authors were clever except in print, ' shesaid. 

"She was a most extraordinary girl. 

"'I suppose, ' she observed, after a moment's silence--'I suppose I amtaking you to my father. '

"'Delighted!' I mumbled. 'H'm! I had the honor of meeting ProfessorHolroyd in Paris. '

"'Yes; he bailed you and Jack out, ' said Miss Holroyd, serenely. 

"The silence was too painful to last. 

"'Captain McPeek is an interesting man, ' I said. I spoke more loudlythan I intended. I may have been nervous. 

"'Yes, ' said Daisy Holroyd, 'but he has a most singular hotel clerk. '

"'You mean Mr. Frisby?'

"'I do. '

"'Yes, ' I admitted, 'Mr. Frisby is queer. He was once a bill-poster. '

"'I know it!' exclaimed Daisy Holroyd, with some heat. 'He ruinslandscapes whenever he has an opportunity. Do you know that he has apassion for bill-posting? He has; he posts bills for the pure pleasureof it, just as you play golf, or tennis, or squash. '

"'But he's a hotel clerk now, ' I said; 'nobody employs him to postbills. '

"'I know it! He does it all by himself for the pure pleasure of it. Papa has engaged him to come down here for two weeks, and I dread it, 'said the girl. 

"What Professor Holroyd might want of Frisby I had not the faintestnotion. I suppose Miss Holroyd noticed the bewilderment in my face, for she laughed and nodded her head twice. 

"'Not only Mr. Frisby, but Captain McPeek also, ' she said. 

"'You don't mean to say that Captain McPeek is going to close hishotel!' I exclaimed. 

"My trunk was there. It contained guarantees of my respectability. 

"'Oh no; his wife will keep it open, ' replied the girl. 'Look! you cansee papa now. He's digging. '

"'Where?' I blurted out. 

"I remembered Professor Holroyd as a prim, spectacled gentleman, withclose-cut, snowy beard and a clerical allure. The man I saw diggingwore green goggles, a jersey, a battered sou'wester, and hip-boots ofrubber. He was delving in the muck of the salt meadow, his facestreaming with perspiration, his boots and jersey splashed withunpleasant-looking mud. He glanced up as we approached, shading hiseyes with a sunburned hand. 

"'Papa, dear, ' said Miss Holroyd, 'here is Jack's friend, whom youbailed out of Mazas. '

"The introduction was startling. I turned crimson with mortification. The professor was very decent about it; he called me by name at once. Then he looked at his spade. It was clear he considered me a nuisanceand wished to go on with his digging. 

"'I suppose, ' he said, 'you are still writing?'

"'A little, ' I replied, trying not to speak sarcastically. My outputhad rivalled that of 'The Duchess'--in quantity, I mean. 

"'I seldom read--fiction, ' he said, looking restlessly at the hole inthe ground. 

"Miss Holroyd came to my rescue. 

"'That was a charming story you wrote last, ' she said. 'Papa shouldread it--you should, papa; it's all about a fossil. '

"We both looked narrowly at Miss Holroyd. Her smile was guileless. 

"'Fossils!' repeated the professor. 'Do you care for fossils?'

"'Very much, ' said I. 

"Now I am not perfectly sure what my object was in lying. I looked atDaisy Holroyd's dark-fringed eyes. They were very grave. 

"'Fossils, ' said I, 'are my hobby. '

"I think Miss Holroyd winced a little at this. I did not care. I wenton:

"'I have seldom had the opportunity to study the subject, but, as aboy, I collected flint arrow-heads--"

"'Flint arrow-heads!' said the professor coldly. 

"'Yes; they were the nearest things to fossils obtainable, ' I replied, marvelling at my own mendacity. 

"The professor looked into the hole. I also looked. I could seenothing in it. 'He's digging for fossils, ' thought I to myself. 

"'Perhaps, ' said the professor, cautiously, 'you might wish to aid mein a little research--that is to say, if you have an inclination forfossils. ' The double-entendre was not lost upon me. 

"'I have read all your books so eagerly, ' said I, 'that to join you, to be of service to you in any research, however difficult andtrying, would be an honor and a privilege that I never dared to hopefor. '

"'That, ' thought I to myself, 'will do its own work. '

"But the professor was still suspicious. How could he help it, when heremembered Jack's escapades, in which my name was always blended!Doubtless he was satisfied that my influence on Jack was evil. Thecontrary was the case, too. 

"'Fossils, ' he said, worrying the edge of the excavation with hisspade--'fossils are not things to be lightly considered. '

"'No, indeed!' I protested. 

"'Fossils are the most interesting as well as puzzling things in theworld, ' said he. 

"'They are!' I cried, enthusiastically. 

"'But I am not looking for fossils, ' observed the professor, mildly. 

"This was a facer. I looked at Daisy Holroyd. She bit her lip andfixed her eyes on the sea. Her eyes were wonderful eyes. 

"'Did you think I was digging for fossils in a salt meadow?' queriedthe professor. 'You can have read very little about the subject. I amdigging for something quite different. '

"I was silent. I knew that my face was flushed. I longed to say, 'Well, what the devil are you digging for?' but I only stared into thehole as though hypnotized. 

"'Captain McPeek and Frisby ought to be here, ' he said, looking firstat Daisy and then across the meadows. 

"I ached to ask him why he had subpoenaed Captain McPeek and Frisby. 

"'They are coming, ' said Daisy, shading her eyes. 'Do you see thespeck on the meadows?'

"'It may be a mud-hen, ' said the professor. 

"'Miss Holroyd is right, ' I said. 'A wagon and team and two men arecoming from the north. There's a dog beside the wagon--it's thatmiserable yellow dog of Frisby's. '

"'Good gracious!' cried the professor, 'you don't mean to tell me thatyou see all that at such a distance?'

"'Why not?' I said. 

"'I see nothing, ' he insisted. 

"'You will see that I'm right, presently, ' I laughed. 

"The professor removed his blue goggles and rubbed them, glancingobliquely at me. 

"'Haven't you heard what extraordinary eyesight duck-shooters have?'said his daughter, looking back at her father. 'Jack says that he cantell exactly what kind of a duck is flying before most people couldsee anything at all in the sky. '

"'It's true, ' I said; 'it comes to anybody, I fancy, who has hadpractice. '

"The professor regarded me with a new interest. There was inspirationin his eyes. He turned towards the ocean. For a long time he stared atthe tossing waves on the beach, then he looked far out to where thehorizon met the sea. 

"'Are there any ducks out there?' he asked, at last. 

"'Yes, ' said I, scanning the sea, 'there are. '

"He produced a pair of binoculars from his coat-tail pocket, adjustedthem, and raised them to his eyes. 

"'H'm! What sort of ducks?'

"I looked more carefully, holding both hands over my forehead. 

"'Surf-ducks and widgeon. There is one bufflehead among them--no, two;the rest are coots, ' I replied. 

"'This, ' cried the professor, 'is most astonishing. I have good eyes, but I can't see a blessed thing without these binoculars!'

"'It's not extraordinary, ' said I; 'the surf-ducks and coots anynovice might recognize; the widgeon and buffleheads I should not havebeen able to name unless they had risen from the water. It is easy totell any duck when it is flying, even though it looks no bigger than ablack pin-point. '

"But the professor insisted that it was marvellous, and he said that Imight render him invaluable service if I would consent to come andcamp at Pine Inlet for a few weeks. 

"I looked at his daughter, but she turned her back. Her back wasbeautifully moulded. Her gown fitted also. 

"'Camp out here?' I repeated, pretending to be unpleasantly surprised. 

"'I do not think he would care to, ' said Miss Holroyd, withoutturning. 

"I had not expected that. 

"'Above all things, ' said I, in a clear, pleasant voice, 'I like tocamp out. '

"She said nothing. 

"'It is not exactly camping, ' said the professor. 'Come, you shall seeour conservatory. Daisy, come, dear! You must put on a heavier frock;it is getting towards sundown. '

"At that moment, over a near dune, two horses' heads appeared, followed by two human heads, then a wagon, then a yellow dog. 

"I turned triumphantly to the professor. 

"'You are the very man I want, ' he muttered--'the very man--the veryman. '

"I looked at Daisy Holroyd. She returned my glance with a defiantlittle smile. 

"'Waal, ' said Captain McPeek, driving up, 'here we be! Git out, Frisby. '

"Frisby, fat, nervous, and sentimental, hopped out of the cart. 

"'Come, ' said the professor, impatiently moving across the dunes. Iwalked with Daisy Holroyd. McPeek and Frisby followed. The yellow dogwalked by himself. 

XVIII

"The sun was dipping into the sea as we trudged across the meadowstowards a high, dome-shaped dune covered with cedars and thickets ofsweet bay. I saw no sign of habitation among the sand-hills. Far asthe eye could reach, nothing broke the gray line of sea and sky savethe squat dunes crowned with stunted cedars. 

"Then, as we rounded the base of the dune, we almost walked into thedoor of a house. My amazement amused Miss Holroyd, and I noticed alsoa touch of malice in her pretty eyes. But she said nothing, followingher father into the house, with the slightest possible gesture to me. Was it invitation or was it menace?

"The house was merely a light wooden frame, covered with somewaterproof stuff that looked like a mixture of rubber and tar. Overthis--in fact, over the whole roof--was pitched an awning of heavysail-cloth. I noticed that the house was anchored to the sand bychains, already rusted red. But this one-storied house was not theonly building nestling in the south shelter of the big dune. A hundredfeet away stood another structure--long, low, also built of wood. Ithad rows on rows of round port-holes on every side. The ports werefitted with heavy glass, hinged to swing open if necessary. A single, big double door occupied the front. 

"Behind this long, low building was still another, a mere shed. Smokerose from the sheet-iron chimney. There was somebody moving aboutinside the open door. 

"As I stood gaping at this mushroom hamlet the professor appeared atthe door and asked me to enter. I stepped in at once. 

"The house was much larger than I had imagined. A straight hallway ranthrough the centre from east to west. On either side of this hallwaywere rooms, the doors swinging wide open. I counted three doors oneach side; the three on the south appeared to be bedrooms. 

"The professor ushered me into a room on the north side, where I foundCaptain McPeek and Frisby sitting at a table, upon which were drawingsand sketches of articulated animals and fishes. 

"'You see, McPeek, ' said the professor, 'we only wanted one more man, and I think I've got him--Haven't I?' turning eagerly to me. 

"'Why, yes, ' I said, laughing; 'this is delightful. Am I invited tostay here?'

"'Your bedroom is the third on the south side; everything is ready. McPeek, you can bring his trunk to-morrow, can't you?' demanded theprofessor. 

"The red-faced captain nodded, and shifted a quid. 

"'Then it's all settled, ' said the professor, and he drew a sigh ofsatisfaction. 'You see, ' he said, turning to me, 'I was at my wit'send to know whom to trust. I never thought of you. Jack's out inChina, and I didn't dare trust anybody in my own profession. All youcare about is writing verses and stories, isn't it?'

"'I like to shoot, ' I replied, mildly. 

"'Just the thing!' he cried, beaming at us all in turn. 'Now I can seeno reason why we should not progress rapidly. McPeek, you and Frisbymust get those boxes up here before dark. Dinner will be ready beforeyou have finished unloading. Dick, you will wish to go to your roomfirst. '

"My name isn't Dick, but he spoke so kindly, and beamed upon me insuch a fatherly manner, that I let it go. I had occasion to correcthim afterwards, several times, but he always forgot the next minute. He calls me Dick to this day. 

"It was dark when Professor Holroyd, his daughter, and I sat down todinner. The room was the same in which I had noticed the drawings ofbeast and bird, but the round table had been extended into an oval, and neatly spread with dainty linen and silver. 

"A fresh-cheeked Swedish girl appeared from a farther room, bearingthe soup. The professor ladled it out, still beaming. 

"'Now, this is very delightful--isn't it, Daisy?' he said. 

"'Very, ' said Miss Holroyd, with a tinge of irony. 

"'Very, ' I repeated, heartily. 

"'I suppose, ' said the professor, nodding mysteriously at hisdaughter, 'that Dick knows nothing of what we're about down here?'

"'I suppose, ' said Miss Holroyd, 'that he thinks we are digging forfossils. '

"I looked at my plate. She might have spared me that. 

"'Well, well, ' said her father, smiling to himself, 'he shall knoweverything by morning. You'll be astonished, Dick, my boy. '

"'His name isn't Dick, ' corrected Daisy. 

"The professor said, 'Isn't it?' in an absent-minded way, and relapsedinto contemplation of my necktie. 

"I asked Miss Holroyd a few questions about Jack, and was informedthat he had given up law and entered the consular service--as what, Idid not dare ask, for I know what our consular service is. 

"'In China, ' said Daisy. 

"'Choo Choo is the name of the city, ' added her father, proudly; 'it'sthe terminus of the new trans-Siberian railway. '

"'It's on the Pong Ping, ' said Daisy. 

"'He's vice-consul, ' added the professor, triumphantly. 

"'He'll make a good one, ' I observed. I knew Jack. I pitied hisconsul. 

"So we chatted on about my old playmate, until Freda, the red-cheekedmaid, brought coffee, and the professor lighted a cigar, with a littlebow to his daughter. 

"'Of course, you don't smoke, ' she said to me, with a glimmer ofmalice in her eyes. 

"'He mustn't, ' interposed the professor, hastily; 'it will make hishand tremble. '

"'No, it won't, ' said I, laughing; 'but my hand will shake if I don'tsmoke. Are you going to employ me as a draughtsman?'

"'You'll know to-morrow, ' he chuckled, with a mysterious smile at hisdaughter. 'Daisy, give him my best cigars--put the box here on thetable. We can't afford to have his hand tremble. '

"Miss Holroyd rose and crossed the hallway to her father's room, returning presently with a box of promising-looking cigars. 

"'I don't think he knows what is good for him, ' she said. 'He shouldsmoke only one every day. '

"It was hard to bear. I am not vindictive, but I decided to treasureup a few of Miss Holroyd's gentle taunts. My intimacy with her brotherwas certainly a disadvantage to me now. Jack had apparently beentalking too much, and his sister appeared to be thoroughly acquaintedwith my past. It was a disadvantage. I remembered her vaguely as agirl with long braids, who used to come on Sundays with her father andtake tea with us in our rooms. Then she went to Germany to school, andJack and I employed our Sunday evenings otherwise. It is true that Iregarded her weekly visits as a species of infliction, but I did notthink I ever showed it. 

"'It is strange, ' said I, 'that you did not recognize me at once, MissHolroyd. Have I changed so greatly in five years?'

"'You wore a pointed French beard in Paris, ' she said--'a very downyone. And you never stayed to tea but twice, and then you only spokeonce. '

"'Oh!' said I, blankly. 'What did I say?'

"'You asked me if I liked plums, ' said Daisy, bursting into anirresistible ripple of laughter. 

"I saw that I must have made the same sort of an ass of myself thatmost boys of eighteen do. 

"It was too bad. I never thought about the future in those days. Whocould have imagined that little Daisy Holroyd would have grown up intothis bewildering young lady? It was really too bad. Presently theprofessor retired to his room, carrying with him an armful ofdrawings, and bidding us not to sit up late. When he closed his doorMiss Holroyd turned to me. 

"'Papa will work over those drawings until midnight, ' she said, with adespairing smile. 

"'It isn't good for him, ' I said. 'What are the drawings?'

"'You may know to-morrow, ' she answered, leaning forward on the tableand shading her face with one hand. 'Tell me about yourself and Jackin Paris. '

"I looked at her suspiciously. 

"'What! There isn't much to tell. We studied. Jack went to the lawschool, and I attended--er--oh, all sorts of schools. '

"'Did you? Surely you gave yourself a little recreation occasionally?'

"'Occasionally, ' I nodded. 

"'I am afraid you and Jack studied too hard. '

"'That may be, ' said I, looking meek. 

"'Especially about fossils. '

"I couldn't stand that. 

"'Miss Holroyd, ' I said, 'I do care for fossils. You may think that Iam a humbug, but I have a perfect mania for fossils--now. '

"'Since when?'

"'About an hour ago, ' I said, airily. Out of the corner of my eye Isaw that she had flushed up. It pleased me. 

"'You will soon tire of the experiment, ' she said, with a dangeroussmile. 

"'Oh, I may, ' I replied, indifferently. 

"She drew back. The movement was scarcely perceptible, but I noticedit, and she knew I did. 

"The atmosphere was vaguely hostile. One feels such mental conditionsand changes instantly. I picked up a chess-board, opened it, set upthe pieces with elaborate care, and began to move, first the white, then the black. Miss Holroyd watched me coldly at first, but after adozen moves she became interested and leaned a shade nearer. I moved ablack pawn forward. 

"'Why do you do that?' said Daisy. 

"'Because, ' said I, 'the white queen threatens the pawn. '

"'It was an aggressive move, ' she insisted. 

"'Purely defensive, ' I said. 'If her white highness will let the pawnalone, the pawn will let the queen alone. '

"Miss Holroyd rested her chin on her wrist and gazed steadily at theboard. She was flushing furiously, but she held her ground. 

"'If the white queen doesn't block that pawn, the pawn may becomedangerous, ' she said, coldly. 

"I laughed, and closed up the board with a snap. 

"'True, ' I said, 'it might even take the queen. ' After a moment'ssilence I asked, 'What would you do in that case, Miss Holroyd?'

"'I should resign, ' she said, serenely; then, realizing what she hadsaid, she lost her self-possession for a second, and cried: 'No, indeed! I should fight to the bitter end! I mean--'

"'What?' I asked, lingering over my revenge. 

"'I mean, ' she said, slowly, 'that your black pawn would never havethe chance--never! I should take it immediately. '

"'I believe you would, ' said I, smiling; 'so we'll call the gameyours, and--the pawn captured. '

"'I don't want it, ' she exclaimed. 'A pawn is worthless. '

"'Except when it's in the king row. '

"'Chess is most interesting, ' she observed, sedately. She hadcompletely recovered her self-possession. Still I saw that she now hada certain respect for my defensive powers. It was very soothing to me. 

"'You know, ' said I, gravely, 'that I am fonder of Jack than ofanybody. That's the reason we never write each other, except to borrowthings. I am afraid that when I was a young cub in France I was not anattractive personality. '

"'On the contrary, ' said Daisy, smiling, 'I thought you were very bigand very perfect. I had illusions. I wept often when I went home andremembered that you never took the trouble to speak to me but once. '

"'I was a cub, ' I said--'not selfish and brutal, but I didn'tunderstand school-girls. I never had any sisters, and I didn't knowwhat to say to very young girls. If I had imagined that you felthurt--'

"'Oh, I did--five years ago. Afterwards I laughed at the whole thing. '

"'Laughed?' I repeated, vaguely disappointed. 

"'Why, of course. I was very easily hurt when I was a child. I think Ihave outgrown it. '

"The soft curve of her sensitive mouth contradicted her. 

"'Will you forgive me now?' I asked. 

"'Yes. I had forgotten the whole thing until I met you an hour or soago. '

"There was something that had a ring not entirely genuine in thisspeech. I noticed it, but forgot it the next moment. 

"Presently she rose, touched her hair with the tip of one finger, andwalked to the door. 

"'Good-night, ' she said. 

"'Good-night, ' said I, opening the door for her to pass. 

XIX

"The sea was a sheet of silver tinged with pink. The tremendous archof the sky was all shimmering and glimmering with the promise of thesun. Already the mist above, flecked with clustered clouds, flushedwith rose color and dull gold. I heard the low splash of the wavesbreaking and curling across the beach. A wandering breeze, fresh andfragrant, blew the curtains of my window. There was the scent of sweetbay in the room, and everywhere the subtle, nameless perfume of thesea. 

"When at last I stood upon the shore, the air and sea were alla-glimmer in a rosy light, deepening to crimson in the zenith. Alongthe beach I saw a little cove, shelving and all a-shine, where shallowwaves washed with a mellow sound. Fine as dusted gold the shingleglowed, and the thin film of water rose, receded, crept up again alittle higher, and again flowed back, with the low hiss of snowy foamand gilded bubbles breaking. 

"I stood a little while quiet, my eyes upon the water, the invitationof the ocean in my ears, vague and sweet as the murmur of a shell. Then I looked at my bathing-suit and towels. 

"'In we go!' said I, aloud. A second later the prophecy wasfulfilled. 

"I swam far out to sea, and as I swam the waters all around me turnedto gold. The sun had risen. 

"There is a fragrance in the sea at dawn that none can name. Whitethorn a-bloom in May, sedges a-sway, and scented rushes rustlingin an inland wind recall the sea to me--I can't say why. 

"Far out at sea I raised myself, swung around, dived, and set outagain for shore, striking strong strokes until the necked foam flew. And when at last I shot through the breakers, I laughed aloud andsprang upon the beach, breathless and happy. Then from the ocean cameanother cry, clear, joyous, and a white arm rose in the air. 

"She came drifting in with the waves like a white sea-sprite, laughingat me, and I plunged into the breakers again to join her. 

"Side by side we swam along the coast, just outside the breakers, until in the next cove we saw the flutter of her maid's cap-strings. 

"'I will beat you to breakfast!' she cried, as I rested, watching herglide up along the beach. 

"'Done!' said I--'for a sea-shell!'

"'Done!' she called, across the water. 

"I made good speed along the shore, and I was not long in dressing, but when I entered the dining-room she was there, demure, smiling, exquisite in her cool, white frock. 

"'The sea-shell is yours, ' said I. 'I hope I can find one with a pearlin it. '

"The professor hurried in before she could reply. He greeted me verycordially, but there was an abstracted air about him, and he called meDick until I recognized that remonstrance was useless. He was notlong over his coffee and rolls. 

"'McPeek and Frisby will return with the last load, including yourtrunk, by early afternoon, ' he said, rising and picking up his bundleof drawings. 'I haven't time to explain to you what we are doing, Dick, but Daisy will take you about and instruct you. She will giveyou the rifle standing in my room--it's a good Winchester. I have sentfor an 'Express' for you, big enough to knock over any elephant inIndia. Daisy, take him through the sheds and tell him everything. Luncheon is at noon. Do you usually take luncheon, Dick?'

"'When I am permitted, ' I smiled. 

"'Well, ' said the professor, doubtfully, 'you mustn't come back herefor it. Freda can take you what you want. Is your hand unsteady aftereating?'

"'Why, papa!' said Daisy. 'Do you intend to starve him?'

"We all laughed. 

"The professor tucked his drawings into a capacious pocket, pulled hissea-boots up to his hips, seized a spade, and left, nodding to us asthough he were thinking of something else. 

"We went to the door and watched him across the salt meadows until thedistant sand-dune hid him. 

"'Come, ' said Daisy Holroyd, 'I am going to take you to the shop. '

"She put on a broad-brimmed straw hat, a distractingly prettycombination of filmy cool stuffs, and led the way to the long, lowstructure that I had noticed the evening before. 

"The interior was lighted by the numberless little port-holes, and Icould see everything plainly. I acknowledge I was nonplussed by what Idid see. 

"In the centre of the shed, which must have been at least a hundredfeet long, stood what I thought at first was the skeleton of anenormous whale. After a moment's silent contemplation of the thing Isaw that it could not be a whale, for the frames of two gigantic, batlike wings rose from each shoulder. Also I noticed that the animalpossessed legs--four of them--with most unpleasant-looking webbedclaws fully eight feet long. The bony framework of the head, too, resembled something between a crocodile and a monstroussnapping-turtle. The walls of the shanty were hung with drawings andblue prints. A man dressed in white linen was tinkering with thevertebrae of the lizard-like tail. 

"'Where on earth did such a reptile come from?' I asked at length. 

"'Oh, it's not real!' said Daisy, scornfully; 'it's papier-maché. '

"'I see, ' said I; 'a stage prop. '

"'A what?' asked Daisy, in hurt astonishment. 

"'Why, a--a sort of Siegfried dragon--a what's-his-name--er, Pfafner, or Peffer, or--'

"'If my father heard you say such things he would dislike you, ' saidDaisy. She looked grieved, and moved towards the door. Iapologized--for what, I knew not--and we became reconciled. She raninto her father's room and brought me the rifle, a very goodWinchester. She also gave me a cartridge-belt, full. 

"'Now, ' she smiled, 'I shall take you to your observatory, and when wearrive you are to begin your duty at once. '

"'And that duty?' I ventured, shouldering the rifle. 

"'That duty is to watch the ocean. I shall then explain the wholeaffair--but you mustn't look at me while I speak; you must watch thesea. '

"'This, ' said I, 'is hardship. I had rather go without the luncheon. '

"I do not think she was offended at my speech; still she frowned foralmost three seconds. 

"We passed through acres of sweet bay and spear grass, sometimesskirting thickets of twisted cedars, sometimes walking in the fullglare of the morning sun, sinking into shifting sand wheresun-scorched shells crackled under our feet, and sun-browned sea-weedglistened, bronzed and iridescent. Then, as we climbed a little hill, the sea-wind freshened in our faces, and lo! the ocean lay below us, far-stretching as the eye could reach, glittering, magnificent. 

"Daisy sat down flat on the sand. It takes a clever girl to do thatand retain the respectful deference due her from men. It takes agraceful girl to accomplish it triumphantly when a man is looking. 

"'You must sit beside me, ' she said--as though it would prove irksometo me. 

"'Now, ' she continued, 'you must watch the water while I am talking. '

"I nodded. 

"'Why don't you do it, then?' she asked. 

"I succeeded in wrenching my head towards the ocean, although I feltsure it would swing gradually round again in spite of me. 

"'To begin with, ' said Daisy Holroyd, 'there's a thing in that oceanthat would astonish you if you saw it. Turn your head!'

"'I am, ' I said, meekly. 

"'Did you hear what I said?'

"'Yes--er--a thing in the ocean that's going to astonish me. ' Visionsof mermaids rose before me. 

"'The thing, ' said Daisy, 'is a thermosaurus!'

"I nodded vaguely, as though anticipating a delightful introduction toa nautical friend. 

"'You don't seem astonished, ' she said, reproachfully. 

"'Why should I be?' I asked. 

"'Please turn your eyes towards the water. Suppose a thermosaurusshould look out of the waves!'

"'Well, ' said I, 'in that case the pleasure would be mutual. '

"She frowned and bit her upper lip. 

"'Do you know what a thermosaurus is?' she asked. 

"'If I am to guess, ' said I, 'I guess it's a jelly-fish. '

"'It's that big, ugly, horrible creature that I showed you in theshed!' cried Daisy, impatiently. 

"'Eh!' I stammered. 

"'Not papier-maché, either, ' she continued, excitedly; 'it's a realone. '

"This was pleasant news. I glanced instinctively at my rifle and thenat the ocean. 

"'Well, ' said I at last, 'it strikes me that you and I resemble a pairof Andromedas waiting to be swallowed. This rifle won't stop a beast, a live beast, like that Nibelungen dragon of yours. '

"'Yes, it will, ' she said; 'it's not an ordinary rifle. '

"Then, for the first time, I noticed, just below the magazine, acylindrical attachment that was strange to me. 

"'Now, if you will watch the sea very carefully, and will promise notto look at me, ' said Daisy, 'I will try to explain. '

"She did not wait for me to promise, but went on eagerly, a sparkle ofexcitement in her blue eyes:

"'You know, of all the fossil remains of the great batlike andlizard-like creatures that inhabited the earth ages and ages ago, thebones of the gigantic saurians are the most interesting. I think theyused to splash about the water and fly over the land during thecarboniferous period; anyway, it doesn't matter. Of course you haveseen pictures of reconstructed creatures such as the ichthyosaurus, the plesiosaurus, the anthracosaurus, and the thermosaurus?'

"I nodded, trying to keep my eyes from hers. 

"'And you know that the remains of the thermosaurus were firstdiscovered and reconstructed by papa?'

"'Yes, ' said I. There was no use in saying no. 

"'I am glad you do. Now, papa has proved that this creature livedentirely in the Gulf Stream, emerging for occasional flights across anocean or two. Can you imagine how he proved it?'

"'No, ' said I, resolutely pointing my nose at the ocean. 

"'He proved it by a minute examination of the microscopical shellsfound among the ribs of the thermosaurus. These shells containedlittle creatures that live only in the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. They were the food of the thermosaurus. '

"'It was rather slender rations for a thing like that, wasn't it? Didhe ever swallow bigger food--er--men?'

"'Oh yes. Tons of fossil bones from prehistoric men are also found inthe interior of the thermosaurus. '

"'Then, ' said I, 'you, at least, had better go back to CaptainMcPeek's--'

"'Please turn around; don't be so foolish. I didn't say there was alive thermosaurus in the water, did I?'

"'Isn't there?'

"'Why, no!'

"My relief was genuine, but I thought of the rifle and lookedsuspiciously out to sea. 

"'What's the Winchester for?' I asked. 

"'Listen, and I will explain. Papa has found out--how, I do notexactly understand--that there is in the waters of the Gulf Stream thebody of a thermosaurus. The creature must have been alive within ayear or so. The impenetrable scale-armor that covers its body has, asfar as papa knows, prevented its disintegration. We know that it isthere still, or was there within a few months. Papa has reports andsworn depositions from steamer captains and seamen from a dozendifferent vessels, all corroborating one another in essential details. These stories, of course, get into the newspapers--sea-serpentstories--but papa knows that they confirm his theory that the hugebody of this reptile is swinging along somewhere in the Gulf Stream. '

"She opened her sunshade and held it over her. I noticed that shedeigned to give me the benefit of about one-eighth of it. 

"'Your duty with that rifle is this: if we are fortunate enough to seethe body of the thermosaurus come floating by, you are to take goodaim and fire--fire rapidly every bullet in the magazine; then reloadand fire again, and reload and fire as long as you have any cartridgesleft. '

"'A self-feeding Maxim is what I should have, ' I said, with gentlesarcasm. 'Well, and suppose I make a sieve of this big lizard?'

"'Do you see these rings in the sand?' she asked. 

"Sure enough, somebody had driven heavy piles deep into the sand allaround us, and to the tops of these piles were attached steel rings, half buried under the spear-grass. We sat almost exactly in the centreof a circle of these rings. 

"'The reason is this, ' said Daisy; 'every bullet in your cartridges issteel-tipped and armor-piercing. To the base of each bullet isattached a thin wire of pallium. Pallium is that new metal, a threadof which, drawn out into finest wire, will hold a ton of ironsuspended. Every bullet is fitted with minute coils of miles of thiswire. When the bullet leaves the rifle it spins out this wire as ashot from a life-saver's mortar spins out and carries the life-line toa wrecked ship. The end of each coil of wire is attached to thatcylinder under the magazine of your rifle. As soon as the shell isautomatically ejected this wire flies out also. A bit of scarlet tapeis fixed to the end, so that it will be easy to pick up. There is alsoa snap-clasp on the end, and this clasp fits those rings that you seein the sand. Now, when you begin firing, it is my duty to run and pickup the wire ends and attach them to the rings. Then, you see, we havethe body of the thermosaurus full of bullets, every bullet anchored tothe shore by tiny wires, each of which could easily hold a ton'sstrain. '

"I looked at her in amazement. 

"'Then, ' she added, calmly, 'we have captured the thermosaurus. '

"'Your father, ' said I, at length, 'must have spent years of laborover this preparation. '

"'It is the work of a lifetime, ' she said, simply. 

"My face, I suppose, showed my misgivings. 

"'It must not fail, ' she added. 

"'But--but we are nowhere near the Gulf Stream, ' I ventured. 

"Her face brightened, and she frankly held the sunshade over us both. 

"'Ah, you don't know, ' she said, 'what else papa has discovered. Wouldyou believe that he has found a loop in the Gulf Stream--a genuineloop--that swings in here just outside of the breakers below? It istrue! Everybody on Long Island knows that there is a warm current offthe coast, but nobody imagined it was merely a sort of backwater fromthe Gulf Stream that formed a great circular mill-race around the coneof a subterranean volcano, and rejoined the Gulf Stream off CapeAlbatross. But it is! That is why papa bought a yacht three years agoand sailed about for two years so mysteriously. Oh, I did want to gowith him so much!'

"'This, ' said I, 'is most astonishing. '

"She leaned enthusiastically towards me, her lovely face aglow. 

"'Isn't it?' she said; 'and to think that you and papa and I are theonly people in the whole world who know this!'

"To be included in such a triology was very delightful. 

"'Papa is writing the whole thing--I mean about the currents. He alsohas in preparation sixteen volumes on the thermosaurus. He said thismorning that he was going to ask you to write the story first for somescientific magazine. He is certain that Professor Bruce Stoddard, ofColumbia, will write the pamphlets necessary. This will give papa timeto attend to the sixteen-volume work, which he expects to finish inthree years. '

"'Let us first, ' said I, laughing, 'catch our thermosaurus. '

"'We must not fail, ' she said, wistfully. 

"'We shall not fail, ' I said, 'for I promise to sit on this sand-hillas long as I live--until a thermosaurus appears--if that is your wish, Miss Holroyd. '

"Our eyes met for an instant. She did not chide me, either, for notlooking at the ocean. Her eyes were bluer, anyway. 

"'I suppose, ' she said, bending her head and absently pouring sandbetween her fingers--'I suppose you think me a blue-stocking, orsomething odious?'

"'Not exactly, ' I said. There was an emphasis in my voice that madeher color. After a moment she laid the sunshade down, still open. 

"'May I hold it?' I asked. 

"She nodded almost imperceptibly. 

"The ocean had turned a deep marine blue, verging on purple, thatheralded a scorching afternoon. The wind died away; the odor of cedarand sweet-bay hung heavy in the air. 

"In the sand at our feet an iridescent flower-beetle crawled, itsmetallic green-and-blue wings burning like a spark. Great gnats, withfilmy, glittering wings, danced aimlessly above the young golden-rod;burnished crickets, inquisitive, timid, ran from under chips ofdriftwood, waved their antennæ at us, and ran back again. One by onethe marbled tiger-beetles tumbled at our feet, dazed from the exertionof an aërial flight, then scrambled and ran a little way, or dartedinto the wire grass, where great, brilliant spiders eyed them askancefrom their gossamer hammocks. 

"Far out at sea the white gulls floated and drifted on the water, orsailed up into the air to flap lazily for a moment and settle backamong the waves. Strings of black surf-ducks passed, their strongwings tipping the surface of the water; single wandering coots whirledfrom the breakers into lonely flight towards the horizon. 

"We lay and watched the little ring-necks running along the water'sedge, now backing away from the incoming tide, now boldly wading afterthe undertow. The harmony of silence, the deep perfume, the mystery ofwaiting for that something that all await--what is it? love? death? oronly the miracle of another morrow?--troubled me with vaguerestlessness. As sunlight casts shadows, happiness, too, throws ashadow, an the shadow is sadness. 

"And so the morning wore away until Freda came with a cool-lookinghamper. Then delicious cold fowl and lettuce sandwiches and champagnecup set our tongues wagging as only very young tongues can wag. Daisywent back with Freda after luncheon, leaving me a case of cigars, witha bantering smile. I dozed, half awake, keeping a partly closed eye onthe ocean, where a faint gray streak showed plainly amid the azurewater all around. That was the Gulf Stream loop. 

"About four o'clock Frisby appeared with a bamboo shelter-tent, forwhich I was unaffectedly grateful. 

"After he had erected it over me he stopped to chat a bit, but theconversation bored me, for he could talk of nothing but bill-posting. 

"'You wouldn't ruin the landscape here, would you?' I asked. 

"'Ruin it!' repeated Frisby, nervously. 'It's ruined now; there ain'ta place to stick a bill. '

"'The snipe stick bills--in the sand, ' I said, flippantly. 

"There was no humor about Frisby. 'Do they?' he asked. 

"I moved with a certain impatience. 

"'Bills, ' said Frisby, 'give spice an' variety to nature. They breakthe monotony of the everlastin' green and what-you-may-call-its. '

"I glared at him. 

"'Bills, ' he continued, 'are not easy to stick, lemme tell you, sir. Sign-paintin's a soft snap when it comes to bill-stickin'. Now, Iguess I've stuck more bills onto New York State than ennybody. '

"'Have you?' I said, angrily. 

"'Yes, siree! I always pick out the purtiest spots--kinder filledchuck full of woods and brooks and things; then I h'ist my paste-potonto a rock, and I slather that rock with gum, and whoop she goes!'

"'Whoop what goes?'

"'The bill. I paste her onto the rock, with one swipe of the brush forthe edges and a back-handed swipe for the finish--except when a billis folded in two halves. '

"'And what do you do then?' I asked, disgusted. 

"'Swipe twice, ' said Frisby, with enthusiasm. 

"'And you don't think it injures the landscape?'

"'Injures it!' he exclaimed, convinced that I was attempting to joke. 

"I looked wearily out to sea. He also looked at the water and sighedsentimentally. 

"'Floatin' buoys with bills onto 'em is a idea of mine, ' he observed. 'That damn ocean is monotonous, ain't it?'

"I don't know what I might have done to Frisby--the rifle was soconvenient--if his mean yellow dog had not waddled up at thisjuncture. 

"'Hi, Davy, sic 'em!' said Frisby, expectorating upon a clam-shell andhurling it seaward. The cur watched the flight of the shellapathetically, then squatted in the sand and looked at his master. 

"'Kinder lost his spirit, ' said Frisby, 'ain't he? I once stuck a billonto Davy, an' it come off, an' the paste sorter sickened him. He washell on rats--once!'

"After a moment or two Frisby took himself off, whistling cheerfullyto Davy, who followed him when he was ready. The rifle burned in myfingers. 

"It was nearly six o'clock when the professor appeared, spade onshoulder, boots smeared with mud. 

"'Well, ' he said, 'nothing to report, Dick, my boy?'

"'Nothing, professor. '

"He wiped his shining face with his handkerchief and stared at thewater. 

"'My calculations lead me to believe, ' he said, 'that our prize may bedue any day now. This theory I base upon the result of the report fromthe last sea-captain I saw. I cannot understand why some of thesecaptains did not take the carcass in tow. They all say that theytried, but that the body sank before they could come within half amile. The truth is, probably, that they did not stir a foot from theircourse to examine the thing. '

"'Have you ever cruised about for it?' I ventured. 

"'For two years, ' he said, grimly. 'It's no use; it's accident when aship falls in with it. One captain reports it a thousand miles fromwhere the last skipper spoke it, and always in the Gulf Stream. Theythink it is a different specimen every time, and the papers areteeming with sea-serpent fol-de-rol. '

"'Are you sure, ' I asked, 'that it will swing into the coast on thisGulf Stream loop?'

"'I think I may say that it is certain to do so. I experimented with adead right-whale. You may have heard of its coming ashore here lastsummer. '

"'I think I did, ' said I, with a faint smile. The thing had poisonedthe air for miles around. 

"'But, ' I continued, 'suppose it comes in the night?'

"He laughed. 

"'There I am lucky. Every night this month, and every day, too, thecurrent of the loop runs inland so far that even a porpoise wouldstrand for at least twelve hours. Longer than that I have notexperimented with, but I know that the shore trend of the loop runsacross a long spur of the submerged volcanic mountain, and thatanything heavier than a porpoise would scrape the bottom and becarried so slowly that at least twelve hours must elapse before thecarcass could float again into deep water. There are chances of itsstranding indefinitely, too, but I don't care to take those chances. That is why I have stationed you here, Dick. '

"He glanced again at the water, smiling to himself. 

"'There is another question I want to ask, ' I said, 'if you don'tmind. '

"'Of course not!' he said, warmly. 

"'What are you digging for?'

"'Why, simply for exercise. The doctor told me I was killing myselfwith my sedentary habits, so I decided to dig. I don't know a betterexercise. Do you?'

"'I suppose not, ' I murmured, rather red in the face. I wonderedwhether he'd mention fossils. 

"'Did Daisy tell you why we are making our papier-maché thermosaurus?'he asked. 

"I shook my head. 

"'We constructed that from measurements I took from the fossil remainsof the thermosaurus in the Metropolitan Museum. Professor BruceStoddard made the drawings. We set it up here, all ready to receivethe skin of the carcass that I am expecting. '

"We had started towards home, walking slowly across the darkeningdunes, shoulder to shoulder. The sand was deep, and walking was noteasy. 

"'I wish, ' said I at last, 'that I knew why Miss Holroyd asked me notto walk on the beach. It's much less fatiguing. '

"'That, ' said the professor, 'is a matter that I intend to discusswith you to-night. ' He spoke gravely, almost sadly. I felt thatsomething of unparalleled importance was soon to be revealed. So Ikept very quiet, watching the ocean out of the corners of my eyes. 

XX

"Dinner was ended. Daisy Holroyd lighted her father's pipe for him, and insisted on my smoking as much as I pleased. Then she sat down, and folded her hands like a good little girl, waiting for her fatherto make the revelation which I felt in my bones must be something outof the ordinary. 

"The professor smoked for a while, gazing meditatively at hisdaughter; then, fixing his gray eyes on me, he said:

"'Have you ever heard of the kree--that Australian bird, half parrot, half hawk, that destroys so many sheep in New South Wales?'

"I nodded. 

"'The kree kills a sheep by alighting on its back and tearing away theflesh with its hooked beak until a vital part is reached. You knowthat? Well, it has been discovered that the kree had prehistoricprototypes. These birds were enormous creatures, who preyed uponmammoths and mastodons, and even upon the great saurians. It has beenconclusively proved that a few saurians have been killed by theancestors of the kree, but the favorite food of these birds wasundoubtedly the thermosaurus. It is believed that the birds attackedthe eyes of the thermosaurus, and when, as was its habit, the mammothcreature turned on its back to claw them, they fell upon the thinnerscales of its stomach armor and finally killed it. This, of course, isa theory, but we have almost absolute proofs of its correctness. Now, these two birds are known among scientists as the ekaf-bird and theool-yllik. The names are Australian, in which country most of theirremains have been unearthed. They lived during the Carboniferousperiod. Now, it is not generally known, but the fact is, that in 1801Captain Ransom, of the British exploring vessel _Gull_, purchased fromthe natives of Tasmania the skin of an ekaf-bird that could not havebeen killed more than twenty-four hours previous to its sale. I sawthis skin in the British Museum. It was labelled, "Unknown bird, probably extinct. " It took me exactly a week to satisfy myself that itwas actually the skin of an ekaf-bird. But that is not all, Dick, 'continued the professor, excitedly. 'In 1854 Admiral Stuart, of ourown navy, saw the carcass of a strange, gigantic bird floating alongthe southern coast of Australia. Sharks were after it, and before aboat could be lowered these miserable fish got it. But the good oldadmiral secured a few feathers and sent them to the Smithsonian. I sawthem. They were not even labelled, but I knew that they were feathersfrom the ekaf-bird or its near relative, the ool-yllik. '

"I had grown so interested that I had leaned far across the table. Daisy, too, bent forward. It was only when the professor paused for amoment that I noticed how close together our heads were--Daisy's andmine. I don't think she realized it. She did not move. 

"'Now comes the important part of this long discourse, ' said theprofessor, smiling at our eagerness. "'Ever since the carcass of ourderelict thermosaurus was first noticed, every captain who has seen ithas also reported the presence of one or more gigantic birds in theneighborhood. These birds, at a great distance, appeared to behovering over the carcass, but on the approach of a vessel theydisappeared. Even in mid-ocean they were observed. When I heard aboutit I was puzzled. A month later I was satisfied that neither theekaf-bird nor the ool-yllik was extinct. Last Monday I knew that I wasright. I found forty-eight distinct impressions of the huge, seven-toed claw of the ekaf-bird on the beach here at Pine Inlet. Youmay imagine my excitement. I succeeded in digging up enough wet sandaround one of these impressions to preserve its form. I managed to getit into a soap-box, and now it is there in my shop. The tide rose toorapidly for me to save the other footprints. '

"I shuddered at the possibility of a clumsy misstep on my partobliterating the impression of an ool-yllik. 

"'That is the reason that my daughter warned you off the beach, ' hesaid, mildly. 

"'Hanging would have been too good for the vandal who destroyed suchpriceless prizes, ' I cried out, in self-reproach. 

"Daisy Holroyd turned a flushed face to mine and impulsively laid herhand on my sleeve. 

"'How could you know?' she said. 

"'It's all right now, ' said her father, emphasizing each word with agentle tap of his pipe-bowl on the table-edge; 'don't be hard onyourself, Dick. You'll do yeoman's service yet. '

"It was nearly midnight, and still we chatted on about thethermosaurus, the ekaf-bird, and the ool-yllik, eagerly discussing theprobability of the great reptile's carcass being in the vicinity. Thatalone seemed to explain the presence of these prehistoric birds atPine Inlet. 

"'Do they ever attack human beings?' I asked. 

"The professor looked startled. 

"'Gracious!' he exclaimed, 'I never thought of that. And Daisy runningabout out-of-doors! Dear me! It takes a scientist to be an unnaturalparent!'

"His alarm was half real, half assumed; but, all the same, he glancedgravely at us both, shaking his handsome head, absorbed in thought. Daisy herself looked a little doubtful. As for me, my sensations weredistinctly queer. 

"'It is true, ' said the professor, frowning at the wall, 'that humanremains have been found associated with the bones of the ekaf-bird--Idon't know how intimately. It is a matter to be taken into mostserious consideration. '

"'The problem can be solved, ' said I, 'in several ways. One is, tokeep Miss Holroyd in the house--'

"'I shall not stay in, ' cried Daisy, indignantly. 

"We all laughed, and her father assured her that she should not beabused. 

"'Even if I did stay in, ' she said, 'one of these birds might alighton Master Dick. '

"She looked saucily at me as she spoke, but turned crimson when herfather observed, quietly, 'You don't seem to think of me, Daisy!'

"'Of course I do, ' she said, getting up and putting both arms aroundher father's neck; 'but Dick--as--as you call him--is so helpless andtimid. '

"My blissful smile froze on my lips. 

"'Timid!' I repeated. 

"She came back to the table, making me a mocking reverence. 

"'Do you think I am to be laughed at with impunity?' she said. 

"'What are your other plans, Dick?' asked the professor. 'Daisy, lethim alone, you little tease!'

"'One is, to haul a lot of cast-iron boilers along the dunes, ' I said. 'If these birds come when the carcass floats in, and if they seemdisposed to trouble us, we could crawl into the boilers and be safe. '

"'Why, that is really brilliant!' cried Daisy. 

"'Be quiet, my child. Dick, the plan is sound and sensible andperfectly practical. McPeek and Frisby shall go for a dozen loads ofboilers to-morrow. '

"'It will spoil the beauty of the landscape, ' said Daisy, with ataunting nod to me. 

"'And Frisby will probably attempt to cover them with bill-posters, ' Iadded, laughing. 

"'That, ' said Daisy, 'I shall prevent, even at the cost of his life. 'And she stood up, looking very determined. 

"'Children, children, ' protested the professor, 'go to bed--you botherme. '

"Then I turned deliberately to Miss Holroyd. 

"'Good-night, Daisy, ' I said. 

"'Good-night, Dick, ' she said, very gently. 

XXI

"The week passed quickly for me, leaving but few definite impressions. As I look back to it now I can see the long stretch of beach burningin the fierce sunlight, the endless meadows, with the glimmer of waterin the distance, the dunes, the twisted cedars, the leagues ofscintillating ocean, rocking, rocking, always rocking. In the starlitnights the curlew came in from the sand-bars by twos and threes; Icould hear their querulous call as I lay in bed thinking. All day longthe little ring-necks whistled from the shore. The plover answeredthem from distant, lonely inland pools. The great white gulls driftedlike feathers upon the sea. 

"One morning towards the end of the week, I, strolling along thedunes, came upon Frisby. He was bill-posting. I caught him red-handed. 

"'This, ' said I, 'must stop. Do you understand, Mr. Frisby?'

"He stepped back from his work, laying his head on one side, considering first me, then the bill that he had pasted on one of ourbig boilers. 

"'Don't you like the color?' he asked. 'It goes well on them blackboilers. '

"'Color! No, I don't like the color, either. Can't you understand thatthere are some people in the world who object to seeingpatent-medicine advertisements scattered over a landscape?'

"'Hey?' he said, perplexed. 

"'Will you kindly remove that advertisement?' I persisted. 

"'Too late, ' said Frisby; 'it's sot. '

"I was too disgusted to speak, but my disgust turned to anger when Iperceived that, as far as the eye could reach, our boilers, lying fromthree to four hundred feet apart, were ablaze with yellow-and-redposters extolling the 'Eureka Liver Pill Company. '

"'It don't cost 'em nothin', ' said Frisby, cheerfully; 'I done it furthe fun of it. Purty, ain't it?'

"'They are Professor Holroyd's boilers, ' I said, subduing a desire tobeat Frisby with my telescope. 'Wait until Miss Holroyd sees thiswork. '

"'Don't she like yeller and red?' he demanded, anxiously. 

"'You'll find out, ' said I. 

"Frisby gaped at his handiwork and then at his yellow dog. After amoment he mechanically spat on a clam-shell and requested Davy to'sic' it. 

"'Can't you comprehend that you have ruined our pleasure in thelandscape?' I asked, more mildly. 

"'I've got some green bills, ' said Frisby; 'I kin stick 'em over theyeller ones--'

"'Confound it, ' said I, 'it isn't the color!'

"'Then, ' observed Frisby, 'you don't like them pills. I've got somebills of the "Cropper Automobile" and a few of "Bagley, the Gents'Tailor"--'

"'Frisby, ' said I, 'use them all--paste the whole collection over yourdog and yourself--then walk off the cliff. '

"He sullenly unfolded a green poster, swabbed the boiler with paste, laid the upper section of the bill upon it, and plastered the wholebill down with a thwack of his brush. As I walked away I heard himmuttering. 

"Next day Daisy was so horrified that I promised to give Frisby anultimatum. I found him with Freda, gazing sentimentally at his work, and I sent him back to the shop in a hurry, telling Freda at the sametime that she could spend her leisure in providing Mr. Frisby withsand, soap, and a scrubbing-brush. Then I walked on to my post ofobservation. 

"I watched until sunset. Daisy came with her father to hear my report, but there was nothing to tell, and we three walked slowly back to thehouse. 

"In the evenings the professor worked on his volumes, the click of histype-writer sounding faintly behind his closed door. Daisy and Iplayed chess sometimes; sometimes we played hearts. I don't rememberthat we ever finished a game of either--we talked too much. 

"Our discussions covered every topic of interest: we argued uponpolitics; we skimmed over literature and music; we settledinternational differences; we spoke vaguely of human brotherhood. Isay we slighted no subject of interest--I am wrong; we never spoke oflove. 

"Now, love is a matter of interest to ten people out of ten. Why itwas that it did not appear to interest us is as interesting a questionas love itself. We were young, alert, enthusiastic, inquiring. Weeagerly absorbed theories concerning any curious phenomena in nature, as intellectual cocktails to stimulate discussion. And yet we did notdiscuss love. I do not say that we avoided it. No; the subject wastoo completely ignored for even that. And yet we found it verydifficult to pass an hour separated. The professor noticed this, andlaughed at us. We were not even embarrassed. 

"Sunday passed in pious contemplation of the ocean. Daisy read alittle in her prayer-book, and the professor threw a cloth over histype-writer and strolled up and down the sands. He may have been lostin devout abstraction; he may have been looking for footprints. As forme, my mind was very serene, and I was more than happy. Daisy read tome a little for my soul's sake, and the professor came up and saidsomething cheerful. He also examined the magazine of my Winchester. 

"That night, too, Daisy took her guitar to the sands and sang one ortwo Basque hymns. Unlike us, the Basques do not take their pleasuressadly. One of their pleasures is evidently religion. 

"The big moon came up over the dunes and stared at the sea until thesurface of every wave trembled with radiance. A sudden stillness fellacross the world; the wind died out; the foam ran noiselessly acrossthe beach; the cricket's rune was stilled. 

"I leaned back, dropping one hand upon the sand. It touched anotherhand, soft and cool. 

"After a while the other hand moved slightly, and I found that my ownhad closed above it. Presently one finger stirred a little--only alittle--for our fingers were interlocked. 

"On the shore the foam-froth bubbled and winked and glimmered in themoonlight. A star fell from the zenith, showering the night withincandescent dust. 

"If our fingers lay interlaced beside us, her eyes were calm andserene as always, wide open, fixed upon the depths of a dark sky. Andwhen her father rose and spoke to us, she did not withdraw her hand. 

"'Is it late?' she asked, dreamily. 

"'It is midnight, little daughter. '

"I stood up, still holding her hand, and aided her to rise. And when, at the door, I said good-night, she turned and looked at me for alittle while in silence, then passed into her room slowly, with headstill turned towards me. 

"All night long I dreamed of her; and when the east whitened, I sprangup, the thunder of the ocean in my ears, the strong sea-wind blowinginto the open window. 

"'She's asleep, ' I thought, and I leaned from the window and peeredout into the east. 

"The sea called to me, tossing its thousand arms; the soaring gulls, dipping, rising, wheeling above the sandbar, screamed and clamored fora playmate. I slipped into my bathing-suit, dropped from the windowupon the soft sand, and in a moment had plunged head foremost into thesurf, swimming beneath the waves towards the open sea. 

"Under the tossing ocean the voice of the waters was in my ears--alow, sweet voice, intimate, mysterious. Through singing foam andbroad, green, glassy depths, by whispering sandy channels atrail withsea-weed, and on, on, out into the vague, cool sea, I sped, rising tothe top, sinking, gliding. Then at last I flung myself out of water, hands raised, and the clamor of the gulls filled my ears. 

"As I lay, breathing fast, drifting on the sea, far out beyond thegulls I saw a flash of white, and an arm was lifted, signalling me. 

"'Daisy!' I called. 

"A clear hail came across the water, distinct on the sea-wind, and atthe same instant we raised our hands and moved towards each other. 

"How we laughed as we met in the sea! The white dawn came up out ofthe depths, the zenith turned to rose and ashes. 

"And with the dawn came the wind--a great sea-wind, fresh, aromatic, that hurled our voices back into our throats and lifted the sheetedspray above our heads. Every wave, crowned with mist, caught us in acool embrace, cradled us, and slipped away, only to leave us toanother wave, higher, stronger, crested with opalescent glory, breathing incense. 

"We turned together up the coast, swimming lightly side by side, butour words were caught up by the winds and whirled into the sky. 

"We looked up at the driving clouds; we looked out upon the pallidwaste of waters, but it was into each other's eyes we looked, wondering, wistful, questioning the reason of sky and sea And there ineach other's eyes we read the mystery, and we knew that earth and skyand sea were created for us alone. 

"Drifting on by distant sands and dunes, her white fingers touchingmine, we spoke, keying our tones to the wind's vast harmony. And wespoke of love. 

"Gray and wide as the limitless span of the sky and the sea, the windsgathered from the world's ends to bear us on; but they were notfamiliar winds; for now, along the coast, the breakers curled andshowed a million fangs, and the ocean stirred to its depths, uneasy, ominous, and the menace of its murmur drew us closer as we moved. 

"Where the dull thunder and the tossing spray warned us from sunkenreefs, we heard the harsh challenges of gulls; where the pallid surftwisted in yellow coils of spume above the bar, the singing sandsmurmured of treachery and secrets of lost souls agasp in the throes ofsilent undertows. 

"But there was a little stretch of beach glimmering through themountains of water, and towards this we turned, side by side. Aroundus the water grew warmer; the breath of the following waves moistenedour cheeks; the water itself grew gray and strange about us. 

"'We have come too far, ' I said; but she only answered:

"'Faster, faster! I am afraid!' The water was almost hot now; itsaromatic odor filled our lungs. 

"'The Gulf loop!' I muttered. 'Daisy, shall I help you?'

"'No. Swim--close by me! Oh-h! Dick--'

"Her startled cry was echoed by another--a shrill scream, unutterablyhorrible--and a great bird flapped from the beach, splashing andbeating its pinions across the water with a thundering noise. 

"Out across the waves it blundered, rising little by little from thewater, and now, to my horror, I saw another monstrous bird swinging inthe air above it, squealing as it turned on its vast wings. Before Icould speak we touched the beach, and I half lifted her to the shore. 

"'Quick!' I repeated. 'We must not wait. '

"Her eyes were dark with fear, but she rested a hand on my shoulder, and we crept up among the dune-grasses and sank down by the point ofsand where the rough shelter stood, surrounded by the iron-ringedpiles. 

"She lay there, breathing fast and deep, dripping with spray. I had nopower of speech left, but when I rose wearily to my knees and lookedout upon the water my blood ran cold. Above the ocean, on the breastof the roaring wind, three enormous birds sailed, turning and wheelingamong one another; and below, drifting with the gray stream of theGulf loop, a colossal bulk lay half submerged--a gigantic lizard, floating belly upward. 

"Then Daisy crept kneeling to my side and touched me, trembling fromhead to foot. 

"'I know, ' I muttered. 'I must run back for the rifle. '

"'And--and leave me?'

"I took her by the hand, and we dragged ourselves through thewire-grass to the open end of a boiler lying in the sand. 

"She crept in on her hands and knees, and called to me to follow. 

"'You are safe now, ' I cried. 'I must go back for the rifle. '

"'The birds may--may attack you. '

"'If they do I can get into one of the other boilers, ' I said. 'Daisy, you must not venture out until I come back. You won't, will you?'

"'No-o, ' she whispered, doubtfully. 

"'Then--good-bye. '

"'Good-bye, ' she answered, but her voice was very small and still. 

"'Good-bye, ' I said again. I was kneeling at the mouth of the bigiron tunnel; it was dark inside and I could not see her, but, before Iwas conscious of it, her arms were around my neck and we had kissedeach other. 

"I don't remember how I went away. When I came to my proper senses Iwas swimming along the coast at full speed, and over my head wheeledone of the birds, screaming at every turn. 

"The intoxication of that innocent embrace, the close impress of herarms around my neck, gave me a strength and recklessness that neitherfear nor fatigue could subdue. The bird above me did not even frightenme. I watched it over my shoulder, swimming strongly, with the tidenow aiding me, now stemming my course; but I saw the shore passingquickly, and my strength increased, and I shouted when I came in sightof the house, and scrambled up on the sand, dripping and excited. There was nobody in sight, and I gave a last glance up into the airwhere the bird wheeled, still screeching, and hastened into the house. Freda stared at me in amazement as I seized the rifle and shouted forthe professor. 

"'He has just gone to town, with Captain McPeek in his wagon, 'stammered Freda. 

"'What!' I cried. 'Does he know where his daughter is?'

"'Miss Holroyd is asleep--not?' gasped Freda. 

"'Where's Frisby?' I cried, impatiently. 

"'Yimmie?' quavered Freda. 

"'Yes, Jimmie; isn't there anybody here? Good Heavens! where's thatman in the shop?'

"'He also iss gone, ' said Freda, shedding tears, 'to buy papier-maché. Yimmie, he iss gone to post bills. '

"I waited to hear no more, but swung my rifle over my shoulder, and, hanging the cartridge-belt across my chest, hurried out and up thebeach. The bird was not in sight. 

"I had been running for perhaps a minute when, far up on the dunes, Isaw a yellow dog rush madly through a clump of sweet-bay, and at thesame moment a bird soared past, rose, and hung hovering just above thethicket. Suddenly the bird swooped; there was a shriek and a yelp fromthe cur, but the bird gripped it in one claw and beat its wings uponthe sand, striving to rise. Then I saw Frisby--paste, bucket, andbrush raised--fall upon the bird, yelling lustily. The fierce creaturerelaxed its talons, and the dog rushed on, squeaking with terror. Thebird turned on Frisby and sent him sprawling on his face, a stickymass of paste and sand. But this did not end the struggle. The bird, croaking horridly, flew at the prostrate bill-poster, and the sandwhirled into a pillar above its terrible wings. Scarcely knowing whatI was about, I raised my rifle and fired twice. A scream echoed eachshot, and the bird rose heavily in a shower of sand; but two bulletswere embedded in that mass of foul feathers, and I saw the wires andscarlet tape uncoiling on the sand at my feet. In an instant I seizedthem and passed the ends around a cedar-tree, hooking the claspstight. Then I cast one swift glance upward, where the bird wheeled, screeching, anchored like a kite to the pallium wires; and I hurriedon across the dunes, the shells cutting my feet and the bushes tearingmy wet swimming-suit, until I dripped with blood from shoulder toankle. Out in the ocean the carcass of the thermosaurus floated, clawsoutspread, belly glistening in the gray light, and over him circledtwo birds. As I reached the shelter I knelt and fired into the mass ofscales, and at my first shot a horrible thing occurred--thelizard-like head writhed, the slitted yellow eyes sliding open fromthe film that covered them. A shudder passed across the undulatingbody, the great scaled belly heaved, and one leg feebly clawed at theair. 

"The thing was still alive!

"Crushing back the horror that almost paralyzed my hands, I plantedshot after shot into the quivering reptile, while it writhed andclawed, striving to turn over and dive; and at each shot the blackblood spurted in long, slim jets across the water. And now Daisy wasat my side, pale and determined, swiftly clasping each tape-markedwire to the iron rings in the circle around us. Twice I filled themagazine from my belt, and twice I poured streams of steel-tippedbullets into the scaled mass, twisting and shuddering on the sea. Suddenly the birds steered towards us. I felt the wind from their vastwings. I saw the feathers erect, vibrating. I saw the spread clawsoutstretched, and I struck furiously at them, crying to Daisy to runinto the iron shelter. Backing, swinging my clubbed rifle, Iretreated, but I tripped across one of the taut pallium wires, and inan instant the hideous birds were on me, and the bone in my forearmsnapped like a pipe-stem at a blow from their wings. Twice I struggledto my knees, blinded with blood, confused, almost fainting; then Ifell again, rolling into the mouth of the iron boiler. 

 * * * * *

"When I struggled back to consciousness Daisy knelt silently besideme, while Captain McPeek and Professor Holroyd bound up my shatteredarm, talking excitedly. The pain made me faint and dizzy. I tried tospeak and could not. At last they got me to my feet and into thewagon, and Daisy came, too, and crouched beside me, wrapped inoilskins to her eyes. Fatigue, lack of food, and excitement hadcombined with wounds and broken bones to extinguish the last atom ofstrength in my body; but my mind was clear enough to understand thatthe trouble was over and the thermosaurus safe. 

"I heard McPeek say that one of the birds that I had anchored to acedar-tree had torn loose from the bullets and had winged its wayheavily out to sea. The professor answered: 'Yes, the ekaf-bird; theothers were ool-ylliks. I'd have given my right arm to have securedthem. ' Then for a time I heard no more; but the jolting of the wagonover the dunes roused me to keenest pain, and I held out my right handto Daisy. She clasped it in both of hers, and kissed it again andagain. 

 * * * * *

"There is little more to add, I think. Professor Bruce Stoddard'sscientific pamphlet will be published soon, to be followed byProfessor Holroyd's sixteen volumes. In a few days the stuffed andmounted thermosaurus will be placed on free public exhibition in thearena of Madison Square Garden, the only building in the city largeenough to contain the body of this immense winged reptile. "

 * * * * *

The young man hesitated, looking long and earnestly at Miss Barrison. 

"Did you marry her?" she asked, softly. 

"You wouldn't believe it, " said the young man, earnestly--"youwouldn't believe it, after all that happened, if I should tell youthat she married Professor Bruce Stoddard, of Columbia--would you?"

"Yes, I would, " said Miss Barrison. "You never can tell what a girlwill do. "

"That story of yours, " I said, "is to me the most wonderful andvaluable contribution to nature study that it has ever been my fortuneto listen to. You are fitted to write; it is your sacred mission toproduce. Are you going to?"

"I am writing, " said the young man, quietly, "a nature book. Sir PeterGrebe's magnificent monograph on the speckled titmouse inspired me. But nature study is not what I have chosen as my life's mission. "

He looked dreamily across at Miss Barrison. "No, not naturalphenomena, " he repeated, "but unnatural phenomena. What ProfessorHyssop has done for Columbia, I shall attempt to do for Harvard. Infact, I have already accepted the chair of Psychical Phenomena atCambridge. "

I gazed upon him with intense respect. 

"A personal experience revealed to me my life's work, " he, went on, thoughtfully stroking his blond mustache. "If Miss Barrison would careto hear it--"

"Please tell it, " she said, sweetly. 

"I shall have to relate it clothed in that artificial garb known asliterary style, " he explained, deprecatingly. 

"It doesn't matter, " I said, "I never noticed any style at all in yourstory of the thermosaurus. "

He smiled gratefully, and passed his hand over his face; a far-awayexpression came into his eyes, and he slowly began, hesitating, asthough talking to himself:

XXII

"It was high noon in the city of Antwerp. From slender steeplesfloated the mellow music of the Flemish bells, and in the spire of thegreat cathedral across the square the cracked chimes clashed discordsuntil my ears ached. 

"When the fiend in the cathedral had jerked the last tuneless clangfrom the chimes, I removed my fingers from my ears and sat down at oneof the iron tables in the court. A waiter, with his face shaved blue, brought me a bottle of Rhine wine, a tumbler of cracked ice, and asiphon. 

"'Does monsieur desire anything else?' he inquired. 

"'Yes--the head of the cathedral bell-ringer; bring it with vinegarand potatoes, ' I said, bitterly. Then I began to ponder on mygreat-aunt and the Crimson Diamond. 

"The white walls of the Hôtel St. Antoine rose in a rectangle aroundthe sunny court, casting long shadows across the basin of thefountain. The strip of blue overhead was cloudless. Sparrows twitteredunder the eaves the yellow awnings fluttered, the flowers swayed inthe summer breeze, and the jet of the fountain splashed among thewater-plants. On the sunny side of the piazza the tables were vacant;on the shady side I was lazily aware that the tables behind me wereoccupied, but I was indifferent as to their occupants, partly becauseI shunned all tourists, partly because I was thinking of mygreat-aunt. 

"Most old ladies are eccentric, but there is a limit, and mygreat-aunt had overstepped it. I had believed her to be wealthy--shedied bankrupt. Still, I knew there was one thing she did possess, andthat was the famous Crimson Diamond. Now, of course, you know who mygreat-aunt was. 

"Excepting the Koh-i-noor and the Regent, this enormous and uniquestone was, as everybody knows, the most valuable gem in existence. Anyordinary person would have placed that diamond in a safe-deposit. Mygreat-aunt did nothing of the kind. She kept it in a small velvet bag, which she carried about her neck. She never took it off, but wore itdangling openly on her heavy silk gown. 

"In this same bag she also carried dried catnip-leaves, of which shewas inordinately fond. Nobody but myself, her only living relative, knew that the Crimson Diamond lay among the sprigs of catnip in thelittle velvet bag. 

"'Harold, ' she would say, 'do you think I'm a fool? If I place theCrimson Diamond in any safe-deposit vault in New York, somebody willsteal it, sooner or later. ' Then she would nibble a sprig of catnipand peer cunningly at me. I loathed the odor of catnip and she knewit. I also loathed cats. This also she knew, and of course surroundedherself with a dozen. Poor old lady! One day she was found dead in herbed in her apartments at the Waldorf. The doctor said she died fromnatural causes. The only other occupant of her sleeping-room was acat. The cat fled when we broke open the door, and I heard that shewas received and cherished by some eccentric people in a neighboringapartment. 

"Now, although my great-aunt's death was due to purely natural causes, there was one very startling and disagreeable feature of the case. Thevelvet bag containing the Crimson Diamond had disappeared. Every inchof the apartment was searched, the floors torn up, the wallsdismantled, but the Crimson Diamond had vanished. Chief of PoliceConlon detailed four of his best men on the case, and, as I hadnothing better to do, I enrolled myself as a volunteer. I also offered$25, 000 reward for the recovery of the gem. All New York was agog. 

"The case seemed hopeless enough, although there were five of us afterthe thief. McFarlane was in London, and had been for a month, butScotland Yard could give him no help, and the last I heard of him hewas roaming through Surrey after a man with a white spot in his hair. Harrison had gone to Paris. He kept writing me that clews were plentyand the scent hot, but as Dennet, in Berlin, and Clancy, in Vienna, wrote me the same thing, I began to doubt these gentlemen's ability. 

"'You say, ' I answered Harrison, 'that the fellow is a Frenchman, andthat he is now concealed in Paris; but Dennet writes me by the samemail that the thief is undoubtedly a German, and was seen yesterday inBerlin. To-day I received a letter from Clancy, assuring me thatVienna holds the culprit, and that he is an Austrian from Trieste. Now, for Heaven's sake, ' I ended, 'let me alone and stop writing meletters until you have something to write about. '

"The night-clerk at the Waldorf had furnished us with our first clew. On the night of my aunt's death he had seen a tall, grave-faced manhurriedly leave the hotel. As the man passed the desk he removed hishat and mopped his forehead, and the night-clerk noticed that in themiddle of his head there was a patch of hair as white as snow. 

"We worked this clew for all it was worth, and, a month later, Ireceived a cable despatch from Paris, saying that a man answering tothe description of the Waldorf suspect had offered an enormous crimsondiamond for sale to a jeweller in the Palais Royal. Unfortunately thefellow took fright and disappeared before the jeweller could send forthe police, and since that time McFarlane in London, Harrison inParis, Dennet in Berlin, and Clancy in Vienna had been chasing menwith white patches on their hair until no gray-headed patriarch inEurope was free from suspicion. I myself had sleuthed it throughEngland, France, Holland, and Belgium, and now I found myself inAntwerp at the Hôtel St. Antoine, without a clew that promisedanything except another outrage on some respectable white-hairedcitizen. The case seemed hopeless enough, unless the thief tried againto sell the gem. Here was our only hope, for, unless he cut the stoneinto smaller ones, he had no more chance of selling it than he wouldhave had if he had stolen the Venus of Milo and peddled her about theRue de Seine. Even were he to cut up the stone, no respectable gemcollector or jeweller would buy a crimson diamond without firstnotifying me; for although a few red stones are known to collectors, the color of the Crimson Diamond was absolutely unique, and there waslittle probability of an honest mistake. 

"Thinking of all these things, I sat sipping my Rhine wine in theshadow of the yellow awnings. A large white cat came sauntering by andstopped in front of me to perform her toilet, until I wished she wouldgo away. After a while she sat up, licked her whiskers, yawned once ortwice, and was about to stroll on, when, catching sight of me, shestopped short and looked me squarely in the face. I returned theattention with a scowl, because I wished to discourage any advancestowards social intercourse which she might contemplate; but after awhile her steady gaze disconcerted me, and I turned to my Rhine wine. A few minutes later I looked up again. The cat was still eying me. 

"'Now what the devil is the matter with the animal, ' I muttered; 'doesshe recognize in me a relative?'

"'Perhaps, ' observed a man at the next table. 

"'What do you mean by that?' I demanded. 

"'What I say, ' replied the man at the next table. 

"I looked him full in the face. He was old and bald and appearedweak-minded. His age protected his impudence. I turned my back on him. Then my eyes fell on the cat again. She was still gazing earnestly atme. 

"Disgusted that she should take such pointed public notice of me, Iwondered whether other people saw it; I wondered whether there wasanything peculiar in my own personal appearance. How hard the creaturestared! It was most embarrassing. 

"'What has got into that cat?' I thought. 'It's sheer impudence. It'san intrusion, and I won't stand it!' The cat did not move. I tried tostare her out of countenance. It was useless. There was aggressiveinquiry in her yellow eyes. A sensation of uneasiness began to stealover me--a sensation of embarrassment not unmixed with awe. All catslooked alike to me, and yet there was something about this one thatbothered me--something that I could not explain to myself, but whichbegan to occupy me. 

"She looked familiar--this Antwerp cat. An odd sense of having seenher before, of having been well acquainted with her in former years, slowly settled in my mind, and, although I could never remember thetime when I had not detested cats, I was almost convinced that myrelations with this Antwerp tabby had once been intimate if notcordial. I looked more closely at the animal. Then an idea struckme--an idea which persisted and took definite shape in spite of me. Istrove to escape from it, to evade it, to stifle and smother it; aninward struggle ensued which brought the perspiration in beads upon mycheeks--a struggle short, sharp, decisive. It was useless--useless totry to put it from me--this idea so wretchedly bizarre, so grotesqueand fantastic, so utterly inane--it was useless to deny that the catbore a distinct resemblance to my great-aunt!

"I gazed at her in horror. What enormous eyes the creature had!

"'Blood is thicker than water, ' said the man at the next table. 

"'What does he mean by that?' I muttered, angrily, swallowing atumbler of Rhine wine and seltzer. But I did not turn. What was theuse?

"'Chattering old imbecile, ' I added to myself, and struck a match, formy cigar was out; but, as I raised the match to relight it, Iencountered the cat's eyes again. I could not enjoy my cigar with theanimal staring at me, but I was justly indignant, and I did not intendto be routed. 'The idea! Forced to leave for a cat!' I sneered. 'Wewill see who will be the one to go!' I tried to give her a jet ofseltzer from the siphon, but the bottle was too nearly empty to carryfar. Then I attempted to lure her nearer, calling her in French, German, and English, but she did not stir. I did not know the Flemishfor 'cat. '

"'She's got a name, and won't come, ' I thought. 'Now, what under thesun can I call her?'

"'Aunty, ' suggested the man at the next table. 

"I sat perfectly still. Could that man have answered my thoughts?--forI had not spoken aloud. Of course not--it was a coincidence--but avery disgusting one. 

"'Aunty, ' I repeated, mechanically, 'aunty, aunty--good gracious, howhorribly human that cat looks!' Then, somehow or other, Shakespeare'swords crept into my head and I found myself repeating: 'The soul of mygrandam might haply inhabit a bird; the soul of--nonsense!' Igrowled--'it isn't printed correctly! One might possibly say, speakingin poetical metaphor, that the soul of a bird might haply inhabitone's grandam--' I stopped short, flushing painfully. 'What awfulrot!' I murmured, and lighted another cigar. The cat was stillstaring; the cigar went out. I grew more and more nervous. 'What rot!'I repeated. 'Pythagoras must have been an ass, but I do believe thereare plenty of asses alive to-day who swallow that sort of thing. '

"'Who knows?' sighed the man at the next table, and I sprang to myfeet and wheeled about. But I only caught a glimpse of a pair offrayed coat-tails and a bald head vanishing into the dining-room. Isat down again, thoroughly indignant. A moment later the cat got upand went away. 

XXIII

"Daylight was fading in the city of Antwerp. Down into the sea sankthe sun, tinting the vast horizon with flakes of crimson, and touchingwith rich deep undertones the tossing waters of the Scheldt. Its glowfell like a rosy mantle over red-tiled roofs and meadows; and throughthe haze the spires of twenty churches pierced the air like sharp, gilded flames. To the west and south the green plains, over which theSpanish armies tramped so long ago, stretched away until they met thesky; the enchantment of the after-glow had turned old Antwerp intofairy-land; and sea and sky and plain were beautiful and vague as thenight-mists floating in the moats below. 

"Along the sea-wall from the Rubens Gate all Antwerp strolled, andchattered, and flirted, and sipped their Flemish wines from slenderFlemish glasses, or gossiped over krugs of foaming beer. 

"From the Scheldt came the cries of sailors, the creaking of cordage, and the puff! puff! of the ferry-boats. On the bastions of thefortress opposite, a bugler was standing. Twice the mellow notes ofthe bugle came faintly over the water, then a great gun thundered fromthe ramparts, and the Belgian flag fluttered along the lanyards to theground. 

"I leaned listlessly on the sea-wall and looked down at the Scheldtbelow. A battery of artillery was embarking for the fortress. Thetublike transport lay hissing and whistling in the slip, and thestamping of horses, the rumbling of gun and caisson, and the sharpcries of the officers came plainly to the ear. 

"When the last caisson was aboard and stowed, and the last trooper hadsprung jingling to the deck, the transport puffed out into theScheldt, and I turned away through the throng of promenaders; andfound a little table on the terrace, just outside of the pretty café. And as I sat down I became aware of a girl at the next table--a girlall in white--the most ravishingly and distractingly pretty girl thatI had ever seen. In the agitation of the moment I forgot my name, myfortune, my aunt, and the Crimson Diamond--all these I forgot in apurely human impulse to see clearly; and to that end I removed mymonocle from my left eye. Some moments later I came to myself andfeebly replaced it. It was too late; the mischief was done. I was notaware at first of the exact state of my feelings--for I had never beenin love more than three or four times in all my life--but I did knowthat at her request I would have been proud to stand on my head, orturn a flip-flap into the Scheldt. 

"I did not stare at her, but I managed to see her most of the timewhen her eyes were in another direction. I found myself drinkingsomething which a waiter brought, presumably upon an order which I didnot remember having given. Later I noticed that it was a loathsomedrink which the Belgians call 'American grog, ' but I swallowed it andlighted a cigarette. As the fragrant cloud rose in the air, a voice, which I recognized with a chill, broke, into my dream of enchantment. Could _he_ have been there all the while--there sitting beside thatvision in white? His hat was off, and the ocean-breezes whisperedabout his bald head. His frayed coat-tails were folded carefully overhis knees, and between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand hebalanced a bad cigar. He looked at me in a mildly cheerful way, andsaid, 'I know now. '

"'Know what?' I asked, thinking it better to humor him, for I wasconvinced that he was mad. 

"'I know why cats bite. '

"This was startling. I hadn't an idea what to say. 

"'I know why, ' he repeated; 'can you guess why?' There was a coverttone of triumph in his voice and he smiled encouragement. 'Come, tryand guess, ' he urged. 

"I told him that I was unequal to problems. 

"'Listen, young man, ' he continued, folding his coat-tails closelyabout his legs--'try to reason it out: why should cats bite? Don't youknow? I do. '

"He looked at me anxiously. 

"'You take no interest in this problem?' he demanded. 

"'Oh yes. '

"'Then why do you not ask me why?' he said, looking vaguelydisappointed. 

"'Well, ' I said, in desperation, 'why do cats bite?--hang it all!' Ithought, 'it's like a burned-cork show, and I'm Mr. Bones and he'sTambo!'

"Then he smiled gently. 'Young man, ' he said, 'cats bite because theyfeed on catnip. I have reasoned it out. '

"I stared at him in blank astonishment. Was this benevolent-lookingold party poking fun at me? Was he paying me up for the morning'ssnub? Was he a malignant and revengeful old party, or was he merelyfeeble-minded? Who might he be? What was he doing here inAntwerp--what was he doing now?--for the bald one had turnedfamiliarly to the beautiful girl in white. 

"'Wilhelmina, ' he said, 'do you feel chilly?' The girl shook her head. 

"'Not in the least, papa. '

"'Her father!' I thought--'her father!' Thank God she did not say'popper'!

"'I have been to the Zoo to-day, ' announced the bald one, turningtowards me. 

"'Ah, indeed, ' I observed; 'er--I trust you enjoyed it. '

"'I have been contemplating the apes, ' he continued, dreamily. 'Yes, contemplating the apes. '

"I tried to look interested. 

"'Yes, the apes, ' he murmured, fixing his mild eyes on me. Then heleaned towards me confidentially and whispered, 'Can you tell me whata monkey thinks?'

"'I cannot, ' I replied, sharply. 

"'Ah, ' he sighed, sinking back in his chair, and patting the slenderhand of the girl beside him--'ah, who can tell what a monkey thinks?'His gentle face lulled my suspicions, and I replied, very gravely:

"'Who can tell whether they think at all?'

"'True, true! Who can tell whether they think at all; and if they dothink, ah! who can tell what they think?'

"'But, ' I began, 'if you can't tell whether they think at all, what'sthe use of trying to conjecture what they _would_ think if they _did_think?'

"He raised his hand in deprecation. 'Ah, it is exactly that which isof such absorbing interest--exactly that! It is the abstruseness ofthe proposition which stimulates research--which stirs profoundly thebrain of the thinking world. The question is of vital and instantimportance. Possibly you have already formed an opinion. '

"I admitted that I had thought but little on the subject. 

"'I doubt, ' he continued, swathing his knees in his coat-tails--'Idoubt whether you have given much attention to the subject latelydiscussed by the Boston Dodo Society of Pythagorean Research. '

"'I am not sure, ' I said, politely, 'that I recall that particulardiscussion. May I ask what was the question brought up?'

"'The Felis domestica question. '

"'Ah, that must indeed be interesting! And--er--what may be the Felisdo--do--'

"'Domestica--not dodo. Felis domestica, the common or garden cat. '

"'Indeed, ' I murmured. 

"'You are not listening, ' he said. 

"I only half heard him. I could not turn my eyes from his daughter'sface. 

"'Cat!' shouted the bald one, and I almost leaped from my chair. 'Areyou deaf?' he inquired, sympathetically. 

"'No--oh no!' I replied, coloring with confusion; 'you were--pardonme--you were--er--speaking of the dodo. Extraordinary bird that--'

"'I was not discussing the dodo, ' he sighed. 'I was speaking of cats. '

"'Of course, ' I said. 

"'The question is, ' he continued, twisting his frayed coat-tails intoa sort of rope--'the question is, how are we to ameliorate the presentcondition and social status of our domestic cats?'

"'Feed 'em, ' I suggested. 

"He raised both hands. They were eloquent with patient expostulation. 'I mean their spiritual condition, ' he said. 

"I nodded, but my eyes reverted to that exquisite face. She satsilent, her eyes fixed on the waning flecks of color in the westernsky. 

"'Yes, ' repeated the bald one, 'the spiritual welfare of our domesticcats. '

"'Toms and tabbies?' I murmured. 

"'Exactly, ' he said, tying a large knot in his coat-tails. 

"'You will ruin your coat, ' I observed. 

"'Papa!' exclaimed the girl, turning in dismay, as that gentleman gavea guilty start, 'stop it at once!'

"He smiled apologetically and made a feeble attempt to conceal hiscoat-tails. 

"'My dear, ' he said, with gentle deprecation, 'I am soabsent-minded--I always do it in the heat of argument. '

"The girl rose, and, bending over her untidy parent, deftly untied theknot in his flapping coat. When he was disentangled, she sat down andsaid, with a ghost of a smile, 'He is so very absent-minded. '

"'Your father is evidently a great student, ' I ventured, pleasantly. How I pitied her, tied to this old lunatic!

"'Yes, he is a great student, ' she said, quietly. 

"'I am, ' he murmured; 'that's what makes me so absent-minded. I oftengo to bed and forget to sleep. ' Then, looking at me, he asked me myname, adding, with a bow, that his name was P. Royal Wyeth, Professorof Pythagorean Research and Abstruse Paradox. 

"'My first name is Penny--named after Professor Penny, of Harvard, ' hesaid; 'but I seldom use my first name in connection with my second, asthe combination suggests a household remedy of penetrating odor. '

"'My name is Kensett, ' I said, 'Harold Kensett, of New York. '

"'Student?'

"'Er--a little. '

"'Student of diamonds?'

"I smiled. 'Oh, I see you know who my great-aunt was, ' I said. 

"'I know her, ' he said. 

"'Ah--perhaps you are unaware that my great-aunt is not now living. '

"'I know her, ' he repeated, obstinately. 

"I bowed. What a crank he was!

"'What do you study? You don't fiddle away all your time, do you?' heasked. 

"Now that was just what I did, but I was not pleased to have MissWyeth know it. Although my time was chiefly spent in killing time, Ihad once, in a fit of energy, succeeded in writing some verses 'To aTomtit, ' so I evaded a humiliating confession by saying that I haddone a little work in ornithology. 

"'Good!' cried the professor, beaming all over. 'I knew you were afellow-scientist. Possibly you are a brother-member of the BostonDodo Society of Pythagorean Research. Are you a dodo?'

"I shook my head. 'No, I am not a dodo. '

"'Only a jay?'

"'A--what?' I said, angrily. 

"'A jay. We call the members of the Junior Ornithological Jay Societyof New York, jays, just as we refer to ourselves as dodos. Are you noteven a jay?'

"'I am not, ' I said, watching him suspiciously. 

"'I must convert you, I see, ' said the professor, smiling. 

"'I'm afraid I do not approve of Pythagorean research, ' I began, butthe beautiful Miss Wyeth turned to me very seriously, and, looking mefrankly in the eyes, said:

"'I trust you will be open to conviction. '

"'Good Lord!' I thought. 'Can she be another lunatic?' I looked at hersteadily. What a little beauty she was! She also, then, belonged tothe Pythagoreans--a sect I despised. Everybody knows all about thePythagorean craze, its rise in Boston, its rapid spread, and itssubsequent consolidation with mental and Christian science, theosophy, hypnotism, the Salvation Army, the Shakers, the Dunkards, and themind-cure cult, upon a business basis. I had hitherto regarded allPythagoreans with the same scornful indifference which I accorded tothe faith-curists; being a member of no particular church, I wasscarcely prepared to take any of them seriously. Least of all did Iapprove of the 'business basis, ' and I looked very much askance indeedat the 'Scientific and Religious Trust Company, ' duly incorporated andgenerally known as the Pythagorean Trust, which, consolidating withmind-curists, faith-curists, and other flourishing salvationsyndicates, actually claimed a place among ordinary trusts, and at thesame time pretended to a control over man's future life. No, I couldnever listen--I was ashamed of even entertaining the notion, and Ishook my head. 

"'No, Miss Wyeth, I am afraid I do not care to listen to any reasoningon this subject. '

"'Don't you believe in Pythagoras?' demanded the professor, subduinghis excitement with difficulty, and adding another knot to hiscoat-tails. 

"'No, ' I said, 'I do not. '

"'How do you know you don't?' inquired the professor. 

"'Because, ' I said, firmly, 'it is nonsense to say that the soul of ahuman being can inhabit a hen!'

"'Put it in a more simplified form!' insisted the professor. 'Do youbelieve that the soul of a hen can inhabit a human being?'

"'No, I don't!'

"'Did you ever hear of a hen-pecked man?' cried the professor, hisvoice ending in a shout. 

"I nodded, intensely annoyed. 

"'Will you listen to reason, then?' he continued, eagerly. 

"'No, ' I began, but I caught Miss Wyeth's blue eyes fixed on mine withan expression so sad, so sweetly appealing, that I faltered. 

"'Yes, I will listen, ' I said, faintly. 

"'Will you become my pupil?' insisted the professor. 

"I was shocked to find myself wavering, but my eyes were looking intohers, and I could not disobey what I read there. The longer I lookedthe greater inclination I felt to waver. I saw that I was going togive in, and, strangest of all, my conscience did not trouble me. Ifelt it coming--a sort of mild exhilaration took possession of me. Forthe first time in my life I became reckless--I even gloried in myrecklessness. 

"'Yes, yes, ' I cried, leaning eagerly across the table, 'I shall beglad--delighted! Will you take me as your pupil?' My single eye-glassfell from its position unheeded. 'Take me! Oh, will you take me?' Icried. Instead of answering, the professor blinked rapidly at me for amoment. I imagined his eyes had grown bigger, and were assuming agreenish tinge. The corners of his mouth began to quiver, emittingqueer, caressing little noises, and he rapidly added knot after knotto his twitching coat-tails. Suddenly he bent forward across the tableuntil his nose almost touched mine. The pupils of his eyes expanded, the iris assuming a beautiful, changing, golden-green tinge, and hiscoat-tails switched violently. Then he began to mew. 

"I strove to rouse myself from my paralysis--I tried to shrink back, for I felt the end of his cold nose touch mine. I could not move. Thecry of terror died in my straining throat, my hands tightenedconvulsively; I was incapable of speech or motion. At the same time mybrain became wonderfully clear. I began to remember everything thathad ever happened to me--everything that I had ever done or said. Ieven remembered things that I had neither done nor said; I recalleddistinctly much that had never happened. How fresh and strong mymemory! The past was like a mirror, crystal clear, and there, inglorious tints and hues, the scenes of my childhood grew and glowedand faded, and gave place to newer and more splendid scenes. For amoment the episode of the cat at the Hôtel St. Antoine flashed acrossmy mind. When it vanished a chilly stupor slowly clouded my brain; thescenes, the memories, the brilliant colors, faded, leaving meenveloped in a gray vapor, through which the two great eyes of theprofessor twinkled with a murky light. A peculiar longing stirredme--a strange yearning for something, I knew not what--but, oh! how Ilonged and yearned for it! Slowly this indefinite, incomprehensiblelonging became a living pain. Ah, how I suffered, and how the vaporsseemed to crowd around me! Then, as at a great distance, I heard hervoice, sweet, imperative:

"'Mew!' she said. 

"For a moment I seemed to see the interior of my own skull, lighted asby a flash of fire; the rolling eyeballs, veined in scarlet, theglistening muscles quivering along the jaw, the humid masses of theconvoluted brain; then awful darkness--a darkness almost tangible--anutter blackness, through which now seemed to creep a thin, silverthread, like a river crawling across a world--like a thought glidingto the brain--like a song, a thin, sharp song which some distant voicewas singing--which I was singing. 

"And I knew that I was mewing!

"I threw myself back in my chair and mewed with all my heart. Oh, thatheavy load which was lifted from my breast! How good, how satisfyingit was to mew! And how I did miaul and yowl!

"I gave myself up to it, heart and soul; my whole being thrilled withthe passionate outpourings of a spirit freed. My voice trembled in theupper bars of a feline love-song, quavered, descended, swelling againinto an intimation that I brooked no rival, and ended with amagnificent crescendo. 

"I finished, somewhat abashed, and glanced askance at the professorand his daughter, but the one sat nonchalantly disentangling hiscoat-tails, and the other was apparently absorbed in the distantlandscape. Evidently they did not consider me ridiculous. Flushingpainfully, I turned in my chair to see how my grewsome solo hadaffected the people on the terrace. Nobody even looked at me. This, however, gave me little comfort, for, as I began to realize what I haddone, my mortification and rage knew no bounds. I was ready to die ofshame. What on earth had induced me to mew? I looked wildly about forescape--I would leap up--rush home to bury my burning face in mypillows, and, later, in the friendly cabin of a homeward-boundsteamer. I would fly--fly at once! Woe to the man who blocked my way!I started to my feet, but at that moment I caught Miss Wyeth's eyesfixed on mine. 

"'Don't go, ' she said. 

"What in Heaven's name lay in those blue eyes? I slowly sank back intomy chair. 

"Then the professor spoke: 'Wilhelmina, I have just received adespatch. '

"'Where from, papa?'

"'From India. I'm going at once. '

"She nodded her head, without turning her eyes from the sea. 'Is itimportant, papa?'

"'I should say so. The cashier of the local trust has compromised anastral body, and has squandered on her all our funds, including a lotof first mortgages on Nirvana. I suppose he's been dabbling in futuresand is short in his accounts. I sha'n't be gone long. '

"'Then, good-night, papa, ' she said, kissing him; 'try to be back byeleven. ' I sat stupidly staring at them. 

"'Oh, it's only to Bombay--I sha'n't go to Thibetto-night--good-night, my dear, ' said the professor. 

"Then a singular thing occurred. The professor had at last succeededin disentangling his coat-tails, and now, jamming his hat over hisears, and waving his arms with a batlike motion, he climbed upon theseat of his chair and ejaculated the word 'Presto!' Then I found myvoice. 

"'Stop him!' I cried, in terror. 

"'Presto! Presto!' shouted the professor, balancing himself on theedge of his chair and waving his arms majestically, as if preparingfor a sudden flight across the Scheldt; and, firmly convinced that henot only meditated it, but was perfectly capable of attempting it, Icovered my eyes with my hands. 

"'Are you ill, Mr. Kensett?' asked the girl, quietly. 

"I raised my head indignantly. 'Not at all, Miss Wyeth, only I'll bidyou good-evening, for this is the nineteenth century, and I'm aChristian. '

"'So am I, ' she said. 'So is my father. '

"'The devil he is, ' I thought. 

"Her next words made me jump. 

"'Please do not be profane, Mr. Kensett. '

"How did she know I was profane? I had not spoken a word! Could it bepossible she was able to read my thoughts? This was too much, and Irose. 

"'I have the honor to bid you good-evening, ' I began, and reluctantlyturned to include the professor, expecting to see that gentlemanbalancing himself on his chair. The professor's chair was empty. 

"'Oh, ' said the girl, smiling, 'my father has gone. '

"'Gone! Where?'

"'To--to India, I believe. '

"I sank helplessly into my own chair. 

"'I do not think he will stay very long--he promised to return byeleven, ' she said, timidly. 

"I tried to realize the purport of it all. 'Gone to India? Gone! How?On a broomstick? Good Heavens, ' I murmured, 'am I insane?'

"'Perfectly, ' she said, 'and I am tired; you may take me back to thehotel. '

"I scarcely heard her; I was feebly attempting to gather up my numbedwits. Slowly I began to comprehend the situation, to review thestartling and humiliating events of the day. At noon, in the court ofthe Hôtel St. Antoine, I had been annoyed by a man and a cat. I hadretired to my own room and had slept until dinner. In the evening Imet two tourists on the sea-wall promenade. I had been beguiled intoconversation--yes, into intimacy with these two tourists! I had hadthe intention of embracing the faith of Pythagoras! Then I had mewedlike a cat with all the strength of my lungs. Now the male touristvanishes--and leaves me in charge of the female tourist, alone and atnight in a strange city! And now the female tourist proposes that Itake her home!

"With a remnant of self-possession I groped for my eye-glass, seizedit, screwed it firmly into my eye, and looked long and earnestly atthe girl. As I looked, my eyes softened, my monacle dropped, and Iforgot everything in the beauty and purity of the face before me. Myheart began to beat against my stiff, white waistcoat. Had Idared--yes, dared to think of this wondrous little beauty as a femaletourist? Her pale, sweet face, turned towards the sea, seemed to casta spell upon the night. How loud my heart was beating! The yellow moonfloated, half dipping in the sea, flooding land and water withenchanted lights. Wind and wave seemed to feel the spell of her eyes, for the breeze died away, the heaving Scheldt tossed noiselessly, andthe dark Dutch luggers swung idly on the tide with every sail adroop. 

"A sudden hush fell over land and water, the voices on the promenadewere stilled; little by little the shadowy throng, the terrace, thesea itself vanished, and I only saw her face, shadowed against themoon. 

"It seemed as if I had drifted miles above the earth, through allspace and eternity, and there was naught between me and high heavenbut that white face. Ah, how I loved her! I knew it--I never doubtedit. Could years of passionate adoration touch her heart--her littleheart, now beating so calmly with no thought of love to startle itfrom its quiet and send it fluttering against the gentle breast? Inher lap her clasped hands tightened--her eyelids drooped as thoughsome pleasant thought was passing. I saw the color dye her temples, Isaw the blue eyes turn, half frightened, to my own, I saw--and I knewshe had read my thoughts. Then we both rose, side by side, and she wasweeping softly, yet for my life I dared not speak. She turned away, touching her eyes with a bit of lace, and I sprang to her side andoffered her my arm. 

"'You cannot go back alone, ' I said. 

"She did not take my arm. 

"'Do you hate me, Miss Wyeth?'

"'I am very tired, ' she said; 'I must go home. '

"'You cannot go alone. '

"'I do not care to accept your escort. '

"'Then--you send me away?'

"'No, ' she said, in a hard voice. 'You can come if you like. ' So Ihumbly attended her to the Hôtel St. Antoine. 

XXIV

"As we reached the Place Verte and turned into the court of the hotel, the sound of the midnight bells swept over the city, and a horse-carjingled slowly by on its last trip to the railroad station. 

"We passed the fountain, bubbling and splashing in the moonlit court, and, crossing the square, entered the southern wing of the hotel. Atthe foot of the stairway she leaned for an instant against thebanisters. 

"'I am afraid we have walked too fast, ' I said. 

"She turned to me coldly. 'No--conventionalities must be observed. Youwere quite right in escaping as soon as possible. '

"'But, ' I protested, 'I assure you--'

"She gave a little movement of impatience. 'Don't, ' she said, 'youtire me--conventionalities tire me. Be satisfied--nobody has seenyou. '

"'You are cruel, ' I said, in a low voice--'what do you think I carefor conventionalities?'

"'You care everything--you care what people think, and you try to dowhat they say is good form. You never did such an original thing inyour life as you have just done. '

"'You read my thoughts, ' I exclaimed, bitterly. 'It is not fair--'

"'Fair or not, I know what you consider me--ill-bred, common, pleasedwith any sort of attention. Oh! why should I waste one word--onethought on you?'

"'Miss Wyeth--' I began, but she interrupted me. 

"'Would you dare tell me what you think of me?--Would you dare tell mewhat you think of my father?'

"I was silent. She turned and mounted two steps of the stairway, thenfaced me again. 

"'Do you think it was for my own pleasure that I permitted myself tobe left alone with you? Do you imagine that I am flattered by yourattention?--do you venture to think I ever could be? How dared youthink what you did think there on the sea-wall?'

"'I cannot help my thoughts!' I replied. 

"'You turned on me like a tiger when you awoke from your trance. Doyou really suppose that you mewed? Are you not aware that my fatherhypnotized you?'

"'No--I did not know it, ' I said. The hot blood tingled in myfinger-tips, and I looked angrily at her. 

"'Why do you imagine that I waste my time on you?' she said. 'Yourvanity has answered that question--now let your intelligence answerit. I am a Pythagorean; I have been chosen to bring in a convert, andyou were the convert selected for me by the Mahatmas of theConsolidated Trust Company. I have followed you from New York toAntwerp, as I was bidden, but now my courage fails, and I shrink fromfulfilling my mission, knowing you to be the type of man you are. If Icould give it up--if I could only go away--never, never again to seeyou! Ah, I fear they will not permit it!--until my mission isaccomplished. Why was I chosen--I, with a woman's heart and a woman'spride. I--I hate you!'

"'I love you, ' I said, slowly. 

"She paled and looked away. 

"'Answer me, ' I said. 

"Her wide, blue eyes turned back again, and I held them with mine. Atlast she slowly drew a long-stemmed rose from the bunch at her belt, turned, and mounted the shadowy staircase. For a moment I thought Isaw her pause on the landing above, but the moonlight was uncertain. After waiting for a long time in vain, I moved away, and in goingraised my hand to my face, but I stopped short, and my heart stoppedtoo, for a moment. In my hand I held a long-stemmed rose. 

"With my brain in a whirl I crept across the court and mounted thestairs to my room. Hour after hour I walked the floor, slowly atfirst, then more rapidly, but it brought no calm to the fierce tumultof my thoughts, and at last I dropped into a chair before the emptyfireplace, burying my head in my hands. 

"Uncertain, shocked, and deadly weary, I tried to think--I strove tobring order out of the chaos in my brain, but I only sat staring atthe long-stemmed rose. Slowly I began to take a vague pleasure in itsheavy perfume, and once I crushed a leaf between my palms, and, bending over, drank in the fragrance. 

"Twice my lamp flickered and went out, and twice, treading softly, Icrossed the room to relight it. Twice I threw open the door, thinkingthat I heard some sound without. How close the air was!--how heavy andhot! And what was that strange, subtle odor which had insensiblyfilled the room? It grew stronger and more penetrating, and I beganto dislike it, and to escape it I buried my nose in the half-openedrose. Horror! The odor came from the rose--and the rose itself was nolonger a rose--not even a flower now--it was only a bunch of catnip;and I dashed it to the floor and ground it under my heel. 

"'Mountebank!' I cried, in a rage. My anger grew cold--and I shivered, drawn perforce to the curtained window. Something was there, outside. I could not hear it, for it made no sound, but I knew it was there, watching me. What was it? The damp hair stirred on my head. I touchedthe heavy curtains. Whatever was outside them sprang up, tore at thewindow, and then rushed away. 

"Feeling very shaky, I crept to the window, opened it, and leaned out. The night was calm. I heard the fountain splashing in the moonlightand the sea-winds soughing through the palms. Then I closed the windowand turned back into the room; and as I stood there a sudden breeze, which could not have come from without, blew sharply in my face, extinguishing the candle and sending the long curtains bellying outinto the room. The lamp on the table flashed and smoked and sputtered;the room was littered with flying papers and catnip leaves. Then thestrange wind died away, and somewhere in the night a cat snarled. 

"I turned desperately to my trunk and flung it open. Into it I threweverything I owned, pell-mell, closed the lid, locked it, and, seizingmy mackintosh and travelling-bag, ran down the stairs, crossed thecourt, and entered the night-office of the hotel. There I called upthe sleepy clerk, settled my reckoning, and sent a porter for a cab. 

"'Now, ' I said, 'what time does the next train leave?'

"'The next train for where?'

"'Anywhere!'

"The clerk locked the safe, and, carefully keeping the desk betweenhimself and me, motioned the office-boy to look at the time-tables. 

"'Next train, 2. 10. Brussels--Paris, ' read the boy. 

"At that moment the cab rattled up by the curbstone, and I sprang inwhile the porter tossed my traps on top. Away we bumped over the stonypavement, past street after street lighted dimly by tall gas-lamps, and alley after alley brilliant with the glare of villanous all-nightcafé-concerts, and then, turning, we rumbled past the Circus and theEldorado, and at last stopped with a jolt before the Brussels station. 

"I had not a moment to lose. 'Paris!' I cried--'first-class!' and, pocketing the book of coupons, hurried across the platform to wherethe Brussels train lay. A guard came running up, flung open the doorof a first-class carriage, slammed and locked it after I had jumpedin, and the long train glided from the arched station out into thestarlit morning. 

"I was all alone in the compartment. The wretched lamp in the roofflickered dimly, scarcely lighting the stuffy box. I could not see toread my time-table, so I wrapped my legs in the travelling-rug and layback, staring out into the misty morning. Trees, walls, telegraph-poles flashed past, and the cinders drove in showers againstthe rattling windows. I slept at times, fitfully, and once, springingup, peered sharply at the opposite seat, possessed with the idea thatsomebody was there. 

"When the train reached Brussels I was sound asleep, and the guardawoke me with difficulty. 

"'Breakfast, sir?' he asked. 

"'Anything, ' I sighed, and stepped out to the platform, rubbing mylegs and shivering. The other passengers were already breakfasting inthe station café, and I joined them and managed to swallow a cup ofcoffee and a roll. 

"The morning broke gray and cloudy, and I bundled myself into mymackintosh for a tramp along the platform. Up and down I stamped, puffing a cigar, and digging my hands deep in my pockets, while theother passengers huddled into the warmer compartments of the train orstood watching the luggage being lifted into the forwardmail-carriage. The wait was very long; the hands of the great clockpointed to six, and still the train lay motionless along the platform. I approached a guard and asked him whether anything was wrong. 

"'Accident on the line, ' he replied; 'monsieur had better go to hiscompartment and try to sleep, for we may be delayed until noon. '

"I followed the guard's advice, and, crawling into my corner, wrappedmyself in the rug and lay back watching the rain-drops spatteringalong the window-sill. At noon the train had not moved, and I lunchedin the compartment. At four o'clock in the afternoon thestation-master came hurrying along the platform, crying, 'Montez!montez! messieurs, s'il vous plaît'--and the train steamed out of thestation and whirled away through the flat, treeless Belgian plains. Attimes I dozed, but the shaking of the car always awoke me, and I wouldsit blinking out at the endless stretch of plain, until a suddenflurry of rain blotted the landscape from my eyes. At last a long, shrill whistle from the engine, a jolt, a series of bumps, and anapparition of red trousers and bayonets warned me that we had arrivedat the French frontier. I turned out with the others, and opened myvalise for inspection, but the customs officials merely chalked it, without examination, and I hurried back to my compartment amid theshouting of guards and the clanging of station bells. Again I foundthat I was alone in the compartment, so I smoked a cigarette, thankedHeaven, and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

"How long I slept I do not know, but when I awoke the train wasroaring through a tunnel. When again it flashed out into the opencountry I peered through the grimy, rain-stained window and saw thatthe storm had ceased and stars were twinkling in the sky. I stretchedmy legs, yawned, pushed my travelling-cap back from my forehead, and, stumbling to my feet, walked up and down the compartment until mycramped muscles were relieved. Then I sat down again, and, lighting acigar, puffed great rings and clouds of fragrant smoke across theaisle. 

"The train was flying; the cars lurched and shook, and the windowsrattled accompaniment to the creaking panels. The smoke from my cigardimmed the lamp in the ceiling and hid the opposite seat from view. How it curled and writhed in the corners, now eddying upward, nowfloating across the aisle like a veil! I lounged back in my cushionedseat, watching it with interest. What queer shapes it took! How thickit was becoming!--how strangely luminous! Now it had filled the wholecompartment, puff after puff crowding upward, waving, wavering, clouding the windows, and blotting the lamp from sight. It was mostinteresting. I had never before smoked such a cigar. What anextraordinary brand! I examined the end, flicking the ashes away. Thecigar was out. Fumbling for a match to relight it, my eyes fell on thedrifting smoke-curtain which swayed across the corner opposite. Itseemed almost tangible. How like a real curtain it hung, gray, impenetrable! A man might hide behind it. Then an idea came into myhead, and it persisted until my uneasiness amounted to a vague terror. I tried to fight it off--I strove to resist--but the conviction slowlysettled upon me that something was behind that smoke-veil--somethingwhich had entered the compartment while I slept. 

"'It can't be, ' I muttered, my eyes fixed on the misty drapery; 'thetrain has not stopped. '

"The car creaked and trembled. I sprang to my feet and swept my armthrough the veil of smoke. Then my hair rose on my head. For my handtouched another hand, and my eyes had met two other eyes. 

"I heard a voice in the gloom, low and sweet, calling me by name; Isaw the eyes again, tender and blue; soft fingers touched my own. 

"'Are you afraid?' she said. 

"My heart began to beat again, and my face warmed with returningblood. 

"'It is only I, ' she said, gently. 

"I seemed to hear my own voice speaking as if at a great distance, 'You here--alone?'

"'How cruel of you!' she faltered; 'I am not alone. ' At the sameinstant my eyes fell upon the professor, calmly seated by the fartherwindow. His hands were thrust into the folds of a corded and tasselleddressing-gown, from beneath which peeped two enormous feet encased incarpet slippers. Upon his head towered a yellow night-cap. He did notpay the slightest attention to either me or his daughter, and, exceptfor the lighted cigar which he kept shifting between his lips, hemight have been taken for a wax dummy. 

"Then I began to speak, feebly, hesitating like a child. 

"'How did you come into this compartment? You--you do not possesswings, I suppose? You could not have been here all the time. Will youexplain--explain to me? See, I ask you very humbly, for I do notunderstand. This is the nineteenth century, and these things don't fitin. I'm wearing a Dunlap hat--I've got a copy of the New York _Herald_in my bag--President Roosevelt is alive, and everything is so veryunromantic in the world! Is this real magic? Perhaps I'm filled withhallucinations. Perhaps I'm asleep and dreaming. Perhaps you are notreally here--nor I--nor anybody, nor anything!'

"The train plunged into a tunnel, and when again it dashed out fromthe other end the cold wind blew furiously in my face from the fartherwindow. It was wide open; the professor was gone. 

"'Papa has changed to another compartment, ' she said, quietly. 'Ithink perhaps you were beginning to bore him. '

"Her eyes met mine and she smiled. 

"'Are you very much bewildered?'

"I looked at her in silence. She sat very quietly, her hands claspedabove her knee, her curly hair glittering to her girdle. A long robe, almost silvery in the twilight, clung to her young figure; her barefeet were thrust deep into a pair of shimmering Eastern slippers. 

"'When you fled, ' she sighed, 'I was asleep and there was no time tolose. I barely had a moment to go to Bombay, to find papa, and returnin time to join you. This is an East-Indian costume. '

"Still I was silent. 

"'Are you shocked?' she asked, simply. 

"'No, ' I replied, in a dull voice, 'I'm past that. '

"'You are very rude, ' she said, with the tears starting to her eyes. 

"'I do not mean to be. I only wish to go away--away somewhere and findout what my name is. '

"'Your name is Harold Kensett. '

"'Are you sure?' I asked, eagerly. 

"'Yes--what troubles you?'

"'Is everything plain to you? Are you a sort of prophet andsecond-sight medium? Is nothing hidden from you?' I asked. 

"'Nothing, ' she faltered. My head ached and I clasped it in my hand. 

"A sudden change came over her. 'I am human--believe me!' she said, with piteous eagerness. 'Indeed, I do not seem strange to those whounderstand. You wonder, because you left me at midnight in Antwerp andyou wake to find me here. If, because I find myself reincarnated, endowed with senses and capabilities which few at present possess--ifI am so made, why should it seem strange? It is all so natural to me. If I appear to you--'

"'Appear?'

"'Yes--'

"'Wilhelmina!' I cried; 'can you vanish?'

"'Yes, ' she murmured; 'does it seem to you unmaidenly?'

"'Great Heaven!' I groaned. 

"'Don't!' she cried, with tears in her voice--'oh, please don't! Helpme to bear it! If you only knew how awful it is to be different fromother girls--how mortifying it is to me to be able to vanish--oh, howI hate and detest it all!'

"'Don't cry, ' I said, looking at her pityingly. 

"'Oh, dear me!' she sobbed. 'You shudder at the sight of me because Ican vanish. '

"'I don't!' I cried. 

"'Yes, you do! You abhor me--you shrink away! Oh, why did I ever seeyou?--why did you ever come into my life?--what have I done in agespast, that now, reborn, I suffer cruelly--cruelly?'

"'What do you mean?' I whispered. My voice trembled with happiness. 

"'I?--nothing; but you think me a fabled monster. '

"'Wilhelmina--my sweet Wilhelmina, ' I said, 'I don't think you afabled monster. I love you; see--see--I am at your feet; listen to me, my darling--'

"She turned her blue eyes to mine. I saw tears sparkling on the curvedlashes. 

"'Wilhelmina, I love you, ' I said again. 

"Slowly she raised her hands to my head and held it a moment, lookingat me strangely. Then her face grew nearer to my own, her glitteringhair fell over my shoulders, her lips rested on mine. 

"In that long, sweet kiss the beating of her heart answered mine, andI learned a thousand truths, wonderful, mysterious, splendid; but whenour lips fell apart, the memory of what I learned departed also. 

"'It was so very simple and beautiful, ' she sighed, 'and I--I neversaw it. But the Mahatmas knew--ah, they knew that my mission couldonly be accomplished through love. '

"'And it is, ' I whispered, 'for you shall teach me--me, your husband. '

"'And--and you will not be impatient? You will try to believe?'

"'I will believe what you tell me, my sweetheart. '

"'Even about--cats?'

"Before I could reply the farther window opened and a yellownight-cap, followed by the professor, entered from somewhere without. Wilhelmina sank back on her sofa, but the professor needed not to betold, and we both knew he was already busily reading our thoughts. 

"For a moment there was dead silence--long enough for the professor tograsp the full significance of what had passed. Then he uttered asingle exclamation, 'Oh!'

"After a while, however, he looked at me for the first time thatevening, saying, 'Congratulate you, Mr. Kensett, I'm sure, ' tiedseveral knots in the cord of his dressing-gown, lighted a cigar, andpaid no further attention to either of us. Some moments later heopened the window again and disappeared. I looked across the aisle atWilhelmina. 

"'You may come over beside me, ' she said, shyly. 

XXV

"It was nearly ten o'clock and our train was rapidly approachingParis. We passed village after village wrapped in mist, station afterstation hung with twinkling red and blue and yellow lanterns, thensped on again with the echo of the switch-bells ringing in our ears. 

"When at length the train slowed up and stopped, I opened the windowand looked out upon a long, wet platform, shining under the electriclights. 

"A guard came running by, throwing open the doors of each compartment, and crying, 'Paris next! Tickets, if you please. '

"I handed him my book of coupons, from which he tore several andhanded it back. Then he lifted his lantern and peered into thecompartment, saying, 'Is monsieur alone?'

"I turned to Wilhelmina. 

"'He wants your ticket--give it to me. '

"'What's that?' demanded the guard. 

"I looked anxiously at Wilhelmina. 

"'If your father has the tickets--' I began, but was interrupted bythe guard, who snapped:

"'Monsieur will give himself the trouble to remember that I do notunderstand English. '

"'Keep quiet!' I said, sharply, in French. 'I am not speaking toyou. '

"The guard stared stupidly at me, then, at my luggage, and finally, entering the car, knelt down and peered under the seats. Presently hegot up, very red in the face, and went out slamming the door. He hadnot paid the slightest attention to Wilhelmina, but I distinctly heardhim say, 'Only Englishmen and idiots talk to themselves!'

"'Wilhelmina, ' I faltered, 'do you mean to say that that guard couldnot see you?'

"She began to look so serious again that I merely added, 'Never mind, I don't care whether you are invisible or not, dearest. '

"'I am not invisible to you, ' she said; 'why should you care?'

"A great noise of bells and whistles drowned our voices, and, amid thewhirring of switch-bells, the hissing of steam, and the cries of'Paris! All out!' our train glided into the station. 

"It was the professor who opened the door of our carriage. There hestood, calmly adjusting his yellow night-cap and drawing hisdressing-gown closer with the corded tassels. 

"'Where have you been?' I asked. 

"'On the engine. '

"'_In_ the engine, I suppose you mean, ' I said. 

"'No, I don't; I mean _on_ the engine--on the pilot. It was veryrefreshing. Where are we going now?'

"'Do you know Paris?' asked Wilhelmina, turning to me. 

"'Yes. I think your father had better take you to the Hôtel Normandieon the Rue de l'Échelle--'

"'But you must stay there, too!'

"'Of course--if you wish--'

"She laughed nervously. 

"'Don't you see that my father and I could not take rooms--now? Youmust engage three rooms for yourself. '

"'Why?' I asked, stupidly. 

"'Oh, dear--why, because we are invisible. '

"I tried to repress a shudder. The professor gave Wilhelmina his arm, and, as I studied his ensemble, I thanked Heaven that he wasinvisible. 

"At the gate of the station I hailed a four-seated cab, and we rattledaway through the stony streets, brilliant with gas-jets, and in a fewmoments rolled smoothly across the Avenue de l'Opéra, turned into theRue de l'Échelle, and stopped. A bright little page, all over buttons, came out, took my luggage, and preceded us into the hallway. 

"I, with Wilhelmina on my arm and the professor shuffling along besideme, walked over to the desk. 

"'Room?' said the clerk. 'We have a very desirable room on the second, fronting the Rue St. Honoré--'

"'But we--that is, I want three rooms--three separate rooms!' I said. 

"The clerk scratched his chin. 'Monsieur is expecting friends?'

"'Say yes, ' whispered Wilhelmina, with a suspicion of laughter in hervoice. 

"'Yes, ' I repeated, feebly. 

"'Gentlemen, of course?' said the clerk, looking at me narrowly. 

"'One lady. '

"'Married, of course?'

"'What's that to you?' I said, sharply. 'What do you mean by speakingto us--'

"'Us!'

"'I mean to me, ' I said, badly rattled; 'give me the rooms and let meget to bed, will you?'

"'Monsieur will remember, ' said the clerk, coldly, 'that this is anold and respectable hotel. '

"'I know it, ' I said, smothering my rage. 

"The clerk eyed me suspiciously. 

"'Front!' he called, with irritating deliberation. 'Show thisgentleman to apartment ten. '

"'How many rooms are there!' I demanded. 

"'Three sleeping-rooms and a parlor. '

"'I will take it, ' I said, with composure. 

"'On probation, ' muttered the clerk, insolently. 

"Swallowing the insult, I followed the bell-boy up the stairs, keepingbetween him and Wilhelmina, for I dreaded to see him walk through heras if she were thin air. A trim maid rose to meet us and conducted usthrough a hallway into a large apartment. She threw open all thebedroom-doors and said, 'Will monsieur have the goodness to choose?'

"'Which will you take, ' I began, turning to Wilhelmina. 

"'I? Monsieur!' cried the startled maid. 

"That completely upset me. 'Here, ' I muttered, slipping some silverinto her hand; 'now, for the love of Heaven, run away!'

"When she had vanished with a doubtful 'Merci, monsieur!' I handed theprofessor the keys and asked him to settle the thing with Wilhelmina. 

"Wilhelmina took the corner room, the professor rambled into the nextone, and I said good-night and crept wearily into my own chamber. Isat down and tried to think. A great feeling of fatigue weighted myspirits. 

"'I can think better with my clothes off, ' I said, and slipped thecoat from my shoulders. How tired I was! 'I can think better in bed, 'I muttered, flinging my cravat on the dresser and tossing myshirt-studs after it. I was certainly very tired. 'Now, ' I yawned, grasping the pillow and drawing it under my head--'now I can think abit. ' But before my head fell on the pillow sleep closed my eyes. 

"I began to dream at once. It seemed as though my eyes were wide openand the professor was standing beside my bed. 

"'Young man, ' he said, 'you've won my daughter and you must pay thepiper!'

"'What piper?' I said. 

"'The Pied Piper of Hamelin, I don't think, ' replied the professor, vulgarly, and before I could realize what he was doing he had drawn areed pipe from his dressing-gown and was playing a strangely annoyingair. Then an awful thing occurred. Cats began to troop into the room, cats by the hundred--toms and tabbies, gray, yellow, Maltese, Persian, Manx--all purring and all marching round and round, rubbing againstthe furniture, the professor, and even against me. I struggled withthe nightmare. 

"'Take them away!' I tried to gasp. 

"'Nonsense!' he said; 'here is an old friend. '

"I saw the white tabby cat of the Hôtel St. Antoine. 

"'An old friend, ' he repeated, and played a dismal melody on hisreed. 

"I saw Wilhelmina enter the room, lift the white tabby in her arms, and bring her to my side. 

"'Shake hands with him, ' she commanded. 

"To my horror the tabby deliberately extended a paw and tapped me onthe knuckles. 

"'Oh!' I cried, in agony; 'this is a horrible dream! Why, oh, whycan't I wake!'

"'Yes, ' she said, dropping the cat, 'it is partly a dream, but some ofit is real. Remember what I say, my darling; you are to go to-morrowmorning and meet the twelve-o'clock train from Antwerp at the Gare duNord. Papa and I are coming to Paris on that train. Don't you knowthat we are not really here now, you silly boy? Good-night, then. Ishall be very glad to see you. '

"I saw her glide from the room, followed by the professor, playing agay quick-step, to which the cats danced two and two. 

"'Good-night, sir, ' said each cat as it passed my bed; and I dreamedno more. 

"When I awoke, the room, the bed had vanished; I was in the street, walking rapidly; the sun shone down on the broad, white pavements ofParis, and the streams of busy life flowed past me on either side. Howswiftly I was walking! Where the devil was I going? Surely I hadbusiness somewhere that needed immediate attention. I tried toremember when I had awakened, but I could not. I wondered where I haddressed myself; I had apparently taken great pains with my toilet, forI was immaculate, monocle and all, even down to a long-stemmed rosenestling in my button-hole. I knew Paris and recognized the streetsthrough which I was hurrying. Where could I be going? What was myhurry? I glanced at my watch and found I had not a moment to lose. Then, as the bells of the city rang out mid-day, I hastened into therailroad station on the Rue Lafayette and walked out to the platform. And as I looked down the glittering track, around the distant curveshot a locomotive followed by a long line of cars. Nearer and nearerit came, while the station-gongs sounded and the switch-bells beganringing all along the track. 

"'Antwerp express!' cried the sous-chef de gare, and as the trainslipped along the tiled platform I sprang upon the steps of afirst-class carriage and threw open the door. 

"'How do you do, Mr. Kensett?' said Wilhelmina Wyeth, springinglightly to the platform. 'Really it is very nice of you to come to thetrain. ' At the same moment a bald, mild-eyed gentleman emerged fromthe depths of the same compartment, carrying a large, covered basket. 

"'How are you, Kensett?' he said. 'Glad to see you again. Rather warmin that compartment--no, I will not trust this basket to anexpressman; give Wilhelmina your arm and I'll follow. We go to theNormandie, I believe?'

"All the morning I had Wilhelmina to myself, and at dinner I satbeside her, with the professor opposite. The latter was cheerfulenough, but he nearly ruined my appetite, for he smelled strongly ofcatnip. After dinner he became restless and fidgeted about in hischair until coffee was brought, and we went up to the parlor of ourapartment. Here his restlessness increased to such an extent that Iventured to ask him if he was in good health. 

"'It's that basket--the covered basket which I have in the next room, 'he said. 

"'What's the trouble with the basket?' I asked. 

"'The basket's all right--but the contents worry me. '

"'May I inquire what the contents are?' I ventured. 

"The professor rose. 

"'Yes, ' he said, 'you may inquire of my daughter. ' He left the room, but reappeared shortly, carrying a saucer of milk. 

"I watched him enter the next room, which was mine. 

"'What on earth is he taking that into my room for?' I askedWilhelmina. 'I don't keep cats. '

"'But you will, ' she said. 

"'I? Never!'

"'You will if I ask you to. '

"'But--but you won't ask me. '

"'But I do. '

"'Wilhelmina!'

"'Harold!'

"'I detest cats. '

"'You must not. '

"'I can't help it. '

"'You will when I ask it. Have I not given myself to you? Will you notmake a little sacrifice for me?'

"'I don't understand--'

"'Would you refuse my first request?'

"'No, ' I said, miserably, 'I will keep dozens of cats--'

"'I do not ask that; I only wish you to keep one. '

"'Was that what your father had in that basket?' I asked, suspiciously. 

"'Yes, the basket came from Antwerp. '

"'What! The white Antwerp cat!' I cried. 

"'Yes. '

"'And you ask me to keep that cat? Oh, Wilhelmina!'

"'Listen!' she said. 'I have a long story to tell you; come nearer, close to me. You say you love me?'

"I bent and kissed her. 

"'Then I shall put you to the proof, ' she murmured. 

"'Prove me!'

"'Listen. That cat is the same cat that ran out of the apartment inthe Waldorf when your great-aunt ceased to exist--in human shape. Myfather and myself, having received word from the Mahatmas of the TrustCompany, sheltered and cherished the cat. We were ordered by theMahatmas to convert you. The task was appalling--but there is no suchthing as refusing a command, and we laid our plans. That man with awhite spot in his hair was my father--'

"'What! Your father is bald. '

"'He wore a wig then. The white spot came from dropping chemicals onthe wig while experimenting with a substance which you could notcomprehend. '

"'Then--then that clew was useless; but who could have taken theCrimson Diamond? And who was the man with the white spot on his headwho tried to sell the stone in Paris?'

"'That was my father. '

"'He--he--st--took the Crimson Diamond!' I cried, aghast. 

"'Yes and no. That was only a paste stone that he had in Paris. Itwas to draw you over here. He had the real Crimson Diamond also. '

"'Your father?'

"'Yes. He has it in the next room now. Can you not see how itdisappeared, Harold? Why, the cat swallowed it!'

"'Do you mean to say that the white tabby swallowed the CrimsonDiamond?'

"'By mistake. She tried to get it out of the velvet bag, and, as thebag was also full of catnip, she could not resist a mouthful, andunfortunately just then you broke in the door and so startled the catthat she swallowed the Crimson Diamond. '

"There was a painful pause. At last I said:

"'Wilhelmina, as you are able to vanish, I suppose you also are ableto converse with cats. '

"'I am, ' she replied, trying to keep back the tears of mortification. 

"'And that cat told you this?'

"'She did. '

"'And my Crimson Diamond is inside that cat?'

"'It is. '

"'Then, ' said I, firmly, 'I am going to chloroform the cat. '

"'Harold!' she cried, in terror, 'that cat is your great-aunt!'

"I don't know to this day how I stood the shock of that announcement, or how I managed to listen while Wilhelmina tried to explain thetransmigration theory, but it was all Chinese to me. I only knew thatI was a blood relation of a cat, and the thought nearly drove me mad. 

"'Try, my darling, try to love her, ' whispered Wilhelmina; 'she mustbe very precious to you--'

"'Yes, with my diamond inside her, ' I replied, faintly. 

"'You must not neglect her, ' said Wilhelmina. 

"'Oh no, I'll always have my eye on her--I mean I will surround herwith luxury--er, milk and bones and catnip and books--er--does sheread?'

"'Not the books that human beings read. Now, go and speak to youraunt, Harold. '

"'Eh! How the deuce--'

"'Go; for my sake try to be cordial. '

"She rose and led me unresistingly to the door of my room. 

"'Good Heavens!' I groaned; 'this is awful. '

"'Courage, my darling!' she whispered. 'Be brave for love of me. '

"I drew her to me and kissed her. Beads of cold perspiration startedin the roots of my hair, but I clenched my teeth and entered the roomalone. The room was dark and I stood silent, not knowing where toturn, fearful lest I step on my aunt! Then, through the drearysilence, I called, 'Aunty!'

"A faint noise broke upon my ear, and my heart grew sick, but I strodeinto the darkness, calling, hoarsely:

"'Aunt Tabby! It is your nephew!'

"Again the faint sound. Something was stirring there among theshadows--a shape moving softly along the wall, a shade which glided byme, paused, wavered, and darted under the bed. Then I threw myself onthe floor, profoundly moved, begging, imploring my aunt to come tome. 

"'Aunty! Aunty!' I murmured. 'Your nephew is waiting to take you tohis heart!'

"At last I saw my great-aunt's eyes shining in the dark. "

The young man's voice grew hushed and solemn, and he lifted his handin silence:

"Close the door. That meeting is not for the eyes of the world! Closethe door upon that sacred scene where great-aunt and nephew are unitedat last. "

 * * * * *

A long pause followed; deep emotion was visible in Miss Barrison'ssensitive face. She said:

"Then--you are married?"

"No, " replied Mr. Kensett, in a mortified voice. 

"Why not?" I asked, amazed. 

"Because, " he said, "although my fiancée was prepared to accept a catas her great-aunt, she could not endure the complications thatfollowed. "

"What complications?" inquired Miss Barrison. 

The young man sighed profoundly, shaking his head. 

"My great-aunt had kittens, " he said, softly. 

 * * * * *

The tremendous scientific importance of these experiences excited mebeyond measure. The simplicity of the narrative, the elaborateattention to corroborative detail, all bore irresistible testimony tothe truth of these accounts of phenomena vitally important to theentire world of science. 

We all dined together that night--a little earnest company ofknowledge-seekers in the vast wilderness of the unexplored; and welingered long in the dining-car, propounding questions, advancingtheories, speculating upon possibilities of most intense interest. Never before had I known a man whose relatives were cats and kittens, but he did not appear to share my enthusiasm in the matter. 

"You see, " he said, looking at Miss Barrison, "it may be interestingfrom a purely scientific point of view, but it has already proved abar to my marrying. "

"Were the kittens black?" I inquired. 

"No, " he said, "my aunt drew the color-line, I am proud to say. "

"I don't see, " said Miss Barrison, "why the fact that your great-auntis a cat should prevent you from marrying. "

"It wouldn't prevent _me_!" said the young man, quickly. 

"Nor me, " mused Miss Barrison--"if I were really in love. "

Meanwhile I had been very busy thinking about Professor Farrago, and, coming to an interesting theory, advanced it. 

"If, " I began, "he marries one of those transparent ladies, what aboutthe children?"

"Some would be, no doubt, transparent, " said Kensett. 

"They might be only translucent, " suggested Miss Barrison. 

"Or partially opaque, " I ventured. "But it's a risky marriage--not tobe able to see what one's wife is about--"

"That is a silly reflection on women, " said Miss Barrison, quietly. "Besides, a girl need not be transparent to conceal what she'sdoing. "

This observation seemed to end our postprandial and tripartiteconference; Miss Barrison retired to her stateroom presently; after alast cigar, smoked almost in silence, the young man and I bade eachother a civil good-night and retired to our respective berths. 

I think it was at Richmond, Virginia, that I was awakened by the negroporter shaking me very gently and repeating, in a pleasant, monotonousvoice: "Teleg'am foh you, suh! Teleg'am foh Mistuh Gilland, suh. 'Donecall you 'lev'm times sense breakfass, suh! Las' call foh luncheon, suh. Teleg'am foh--"

"Heavens!" I muttered, sitting up in my bunk, "is it as late as that!Where are we?" I slid up the window-shade and sat blinking at a floodof sunshine. 

"Telegram?" I said, yawning and rubbing my eyes. "Let me have it. Allright, I'll be out presently. Shut that curtain! I don't want theentire car to criticise my pink pajamas!"

"Ain' nobody in de cyar, 'scusin yo'se'f, suh, " grinned the porter, retiring. 

I heard him, but did not comprehend, sitting there sleepily unfoldingthe scrawled telegram. Suddenly my eyes flew wide open; I scanned thedespatch with stunned incredulity:

 "ATLANTA, GEORGIA. 

 "We couldn't help it. Love at first sight. Married this morning in Atlanta. Wildly happy. Forgive. Wire blessing. 

 "(Signed) HAROLD KENSETT, "HELEN BARRISON KENSETT. "

"Porter!" I shouted. "Porter! Help!"

There was no response. 

"Oh, Lord!" I groaned, and rolled over, burying my head in theblankets; for I understood at last that Science, the most jealous, most exacting of mistresses, could never brook a rival. 

THE END

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