waiting boat near the shore. He would be within hail if she needed him,
or she could escape to her boat if she had one.

In another moment his boat was lifting on the swell towards the rocks.
He pulled quickly, occasionally turning to note that the strange figure,
whose movements were quite discernible to the naked eye, was still
there, but gazing more earnestly towards the nearest shore for any sign
of life or occupation. In ten minutes he had reached the curve where the
trend opened northward, and the long line of shore stretched before him.
He swept it eagerly with a single searching glance. Sea and shore were
empty. He turned quickly to the rock, scarcely a hundred yards on his
beam. It was empty too! Forgetting his previous scruples, he pulled
directly for it until his keel grated on its submerged base. There was
nothing there but the rock, slippery with the yellow-green slime of
seaweed and kelp--neither trace nor sign of the figure that had
occupied it a moment ago. He pulled around it; there was no cleft or
hiding-place. For an instant his heart leaped at the sight of something
white, caught in a jagged tooth of the outlying reef, but it was only
the bleached fragment of a bamboo orange-crate, cast from the deck of
some South Sea trader, such as often strewed the beach. He lay off the
rock, keeping way in the swell, and scrutinizing the glittering sea. At
last he pulled back to the lighthouse, perplexed and discomfited.

Was it simply a sporting seal, transformed by some trick of his vision?
But he had seen it through his glass, and now remembered such details
as the face and features framed in their contour of golden hair, and
believed he could even have identified them. He examined the rock again
with his glass, and was surprised to see how clearly it was outlined now
in its barren loneliness. Yet he must have been mistaken. His scientific
and accurate mind allowed of no errant fancy, and he had always sneered