the knowledge that the cuttlefish, the dreaded octopus, abounds in the
China Sea.

His face was livid when he turned to Iris. "You are over-wrought by
fatigue, Miss Deane," he said. "What you saw was probably a seal;" he
knew the ludicrous substitution would not be questioned. "Please go and
lie down again."

"I cannot," she protested. "I am too frightened."

"Frightened! By a dream! In broad daylight!"

"But why are _you_ so pale? What has alarmed you?"

"Can you ask? Did you not give the agreed signal?"

"Yes, but--"

Her inquiring glance fell. He was breathless from agitation rather than
running. He was perturbed on her account. For an instant she had looked
into his soul.

"I will go back," she said quietly, "though I would rather accompany
you. What are you doing?"

"Seeking a place to lay our heads," he answered, with gruff
carelessness. "You really must rest, Miss Deane. Otherwise you will be
broken up by fatigue and become ill."

So Iris again sought her couch of sand, and the sailor returned to the