my pallid friends away yonder were lacking in, and when we had stared
at each other for a few moments in silence she came forward a step or
two and said without a trace of fear or shyness, "Are you a spirit, sir?

"Why," I answered, "about as much, no more and no less, than most of us."

"Aye," she said. "I thought you were, for none but spirits live here
upon this island; are you for good or evil?"

"Far better for the breakfast of which I fear I have robbed you, but
wandering along the shore and finding this pot boiling with no owner,
I ventured to sample it, and it was so good my appetite got the better
of manners."

The girl bowed, and standing at a respectful distance asked if I would
like some fish as well; she had some, but not many, and if I would eat
she would cook them for me in a minute--it was not often, she added
lightly, she had met one of my kind before. In fact, it was obvious
that simple person did actually take me for a being of another world,
and was it for me to say she was wrong? So adopting a dignity worthy of
my reputation I nodded gravely to her offer. She fetched from the boat
four little fishes of the daintiest kind imaginable. They were each
about as big as a hand and pale blue when you looked down upon them,
but so clear against the light that every bone and vein in their bodies
could be traced. These were wrapped just as they were in a broad, green
leaf and then the Martian, taking a pointed stick, made a hollow in the
white ashes, laid them in side by side, and drew the hot dust over again.

While they cooked we chatted as though the acquaintance were the most
casual thing in the world, and I found it was indeed an island we were