Panting and wild-eyed, Jenks was at the girl's side in an inconceivably
short space of time. She was not beneath the shelter of the grove, but
on the sands, gazing, pallid in cheek and lip, at the group of rocks on
the edge of the lagoon.

"What is the matter?" he gasped.

"Oh, I don't know," she wailed brokenly. "I had a dream, such a
horrible dream. You were struggling with some awful thing down there."
She pointed to the rocks.

"I was not near the place," he said laboriously. It cost him an effort
to breathe. His broad chest expanded inches with each respiration.

"Yes, yes, I understand. But I awoke and ran to save you. When I got
here I saw something, a thing with waving arms, and fired. It vanished,
and then you came."

The sailor walked slowly to the rocks. A fresh chip out of the stone
showed where the bullet struck. One huge boulder was wet, as if water
had been splashed over it. He halted and looked intently into the
water. Not a fish was to be seen, but small spirals of sand were
eddying up from the bottom, where it shelved steeply from the shore.

Iris followed him. "See," she cried excitedly. "I was not mistaken.
There _was_ something here."

A creepy sensation ran up the man's spine and passed behind his ears.
At this spot the drowned Lascars were lying. Like an inspiration came