"Personally, I have seen no reason whatever for such a hubbub," was the

flippant answer.

It was evident that Dr. Christobal was annoyed. Notwithstanding his

conventional polish, he was not a man to conceal his feelings when

deeply stirred. Yet Elsie failed to catch his intent, other than that

he was adopting his usual nonchalant tone.

"But something must have caused Captain Courtenay and Mr. Tollemache to

fire their revolvers so frequently. And, if they were mistaken, the

dog would not have shared their error. Besides, one of the canoes did

not get away. See! Its mast is fastened there."

"Ah! I had forgotten Tollemache. He was selected to join the

captain's watch, of course."

"Yes, I was present when the watches were formed. Have you seen Mr.

Tollemache? Is he safe?"

"He is among those making the round of the ship. I hope you will

forgive me."

"Forgive you! What have you done that calls for forgiveness?"

"There are errors of speech which equal those of conduct, Miss Maxwell."

"Oh, what nonsense--at one in the morning--when we are threatened by

savages!"

Christobal was relieved that she took this view of his abrupt

utterances. He thought the incident was ended. He was mistaken; Elsie

was able to recall each word subsequently. At the moment she was

recording impressions with uncomprehending accuracy, but her mind was

quite incapable of analyzing them; that would come later.

The lantern was brought. Courtenay stood on the lowermost rail, and

carefully paid out a rope to which the light was slung. He was far too

brave a man to take undue risks. He was ready to shoot instantly if

need be, and, by his instructions, Tollemache and Walker kept watch as

best they could in case other canoes were lying close to the ship.

Any doubt in this regard was dispelled in a singular manner. The

flickering rays of the lantern had barely revealed the primitive craft

lying alongside when a voice came from the depths, crying in broken

Spanish: "Don't shoot, señors--spare me, for the love of heaven! I am a white

man from Argentina."

Christobal and Elsie alone understood the exact significance of the

words. Courtenay, of course, knew what language was being spoken, and

it was easy to guess the nature of the appeal. But the lantern showed

that the canoe was empty. In the center lay the Fuegian fire, its

embers covered with a small hide. The pole, fastened to a cross-piece

in the thwarts, was not a mast, but had evidently been shipped in order

to give speedy access to the deck by climbing.

Then Courtenay caught sight of two hands clinging to the stern of the

canoe. He swung the lantern in that direction, and an extraordinary,

and even an affrighting, object became visible. A caricature of a

human head was raised slightly above the level of the water. It was

crowned by a shock of coarse, black, knotted hair, tied back from the

brows by a fillet of white feathers. An intensely black face, crossed

by two bars of red and white pigment, reaching from ear to ear, and

covering eyelids, nose, and lips, was upturned to the watchers from the

deck. The colors were vivid enough, notwithstanding the sheets of rain

which blew in gusts against the ship's side, dimming the dull light of

a storm-proof lamp, to convey a most uncanny effect; nor did Courtenay

remove either his eyes or the revolver while he said to Christobal: "Ask him who he is, and what he wants."




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