rocks. But on the fourth side the island exhibited a more
extraordinary feature. In fact, it exhibited the extraordinary
feature of not being an island at all. A long, curving neck of
sand, as smooth and wet as the neck of the sea serpent, ran out
into the sea and joined their rock to a line of low, billowing,
and glistening sand-hills, which the sinking sea had just bared
to the sun. Whether they were firm sand or quicksand it was
difficult to guess; but there was at least no doubt that they lay
on the edge of some larger land; for colourless hills appeared
faintly behind them and no sea could be seen beyond.

"Sakes alive!" cried Turnbull, with rolling eyes; "this ain't an
island in the Atlantic. We've butted the bally continent of
America."

MacIan turned his head, and his face, already pale, grew a shade
paler. He was by this time walking in a world of omens and
hieroglyphics, and he could not read anything but what was
baffling or menacing in this brown gigantic arm of the earth
stretched out into the sea to seize him.

"MacIan," said Turnbull, in his temperate way, "whatever our
eternal interrupted tete-a-tetes have taught us or not taught us,
at least we need not fear the charge of fear. If it is essential
to your emotions, I will cheerfully finish the fight here and
now; but I must confess that if you kill me here I shall die with
my curiosity highly excited and unsatisfied upon a minor point of
geography."

"I do not want to stop now," said the other, in his elephantine