"What do you make of those?" he inquired, handing the glasses, and
blandly ignoring Miss Deane's petulance. Her brain was busy with other
things while she twisted the binoculars to suit her vision. Rainbow
Island--Iris--it was a nice conceit. But "menial" struck a discordant
note. This man was no menial in appearance or speech. Why was he so
deliberately rude?

"I think they are boxes or packing-cases," she announced.

"Ah, that was my own idea. I must visit that locality."

"How? Will you swim?"

"No," he said, his stern lips relaxing in a smile, "I will not swim;
and by the way, Miss Deane, be careful when you are near the water. The
lagoon is swarming with sharks at present. I feel tolerably assured
that at low tide, when the remnants of the gale have vanished, I will
be able to walk there along the reef."

"Sharks!" she cried. "In there! What horrible surprises this speck of
land contains! I should not have imagined that sharks and seals could
live together."

"You are quite right," he explained, with becoming gravity. "As a rule
sharks infest only the leeward side of these islands. Just now they are
attracted in shoals by the wreck."

"Oh." Iris shivered slightly.