of the pitcher-plant, he knelt to peer into the excavation. The well
had been properly made. Ten feet down he could see the reflection of
his face. Expert hands had tapped the secret reservoir of the island.
By stretching to the full extent of his arm, he managed to plunge the
stick into the water. Tasting the drops, he found that they were quite
sweet. The sand and porous rock provided the best of filter-beds.

He rose, wall pleased, and noted that on the opposite side the
appearance of the shrubs and tufts of long grass indicated the
existence of a grown-over path towards the cliff. He followed it,
walking carelessly, with eyes seeking the prospect beyond, when
something rattled and cracked beneath his feet. Looking down, he was
horrified to find he was trampling on a skeleton.

Had a venomous snake coiled its glistening folds around his leg he
would not have been more startled. But this man of iron nerve soon
recovered. He frowned deeply after the first involuntary heart-throb.

With the stick he cleared away the undergrowth, and revealed the
skeleton of a man. The bones were big and strong, but oxidized by the
action of the air. Jenks had injured the left tibia by his tread, but
three fractured ribs and a smashed shoulder-blade told some terrible
unwritten story.

Beneath the mournful relics were fragments of decayed cloth. It was
blue serge. Lying about were a few blackened objects--brass buttons
marked with an anchor. The dead man's boots were in the best state of
preservation, but the leather had shrunk and the nails protruded like
fangs.