a little more about them. He says that they can breathe through the pores
of their skins; that their bodies are covered with a thick, silky hair,
and that when they dive they carry down with them enough air to form a
sort of skin over them, so that under water their bodies appear to be
silver-plated."

"Good Lord!" faltered Kemper. "That is a little too much!"

"Yet," said I, "that is exactly what air-breathing water beetles do. The
globules of air, clinging to the body-hairs, appear to silver-plate them;
and they can remain below indefinitely, breathing through spiracles.
Doubtless the skin pores of these men have taken on the character of
spiracles."

"You know," he said in a curious, flat voice, which sounded like
the tones of a partly stupified man, "this whole business is so
grotesque--apparently so wildly absurd--that it's having a sort of
nightmare effect on me." And, dropping his voice to a whisper close to
my ear: "Good heavens!" he said. "Can you reconcile such a creature as
we are starting out to hunt, with anything living known to science?"

"No," I replied in guarded tones. "And there are moments, Kemper, since
I have come into possession of Miss Grey's story, when I find myself
seriously doubting my own sanity."

"I'm doubting mine, now," he whispered, "only that girl is so fresh and
wholesome and human and sane--"

"She is a very clever girl," I said.