able-length off the true. I will have a plan then to lure the schooner
on. We must not let her escape, Milo!"

"Pardon, lady, I know a way!"

"And that?"

"I will swim to the schooner and command them to thy presence."

Dolores smiled whimsically, for she was too wise to be ignorant of the
fact that such men as were in that schooner must first be caught before
they might be commanded. Yet the giant's plan suggested another to her.

"Hear my plan," she said. "That chit--Pascherette--she's a dainty minx!
Does she swim?"

"Like a conger, Sultana!" Milo's face lighted warmly, and Dolores
shrewdly guessed then that the petite octoroon's regard for the giant
was not altogether unrequited.

"Then carry her abreast of the vessel, quickly, and bid her swim out to
it. Let her use some of the cunning that is in her pretty little head,
and make them wonder what else our island has to offer in dainties.
Then, ere evening, I shall have work for thee that shall complete what
Pascherette begins. Command the minx to bring forth all her fascinations
and allurements. Nay, friend, have no fear for thy sweetheart. I warrant
thee she can care for herself, if she will. Go! It is my command!"

Milo departed, and Dolores went out to the Grove, climbed nimbly to the
cliff-top, and sat down to watch. She had a clear view of the schooner
now winging lazily along three miles away and a mile off shore; the
shore, from the point where her rascals were even now towing out a great
mass of interlaced trees and foliage planted upon stout logs to form a
false point, right along to abreast of the schooner, lay immediately
beneath her eye; the blue sea glittered and flashed under the hot sun,
unruffled by wind, and only bursting into a long line of creamy foam,
where it licked the golden sands. The tall palms nodded languorously,
their deep green heads faintly chafing like sleeping crickets; the
tinkle of the sands came up to her ears like tiny bells.

Dolores followed with her eyes two swiftly moving figures on the shore
path, hidden from the ocean by a mass of verdure, and she smiled
cryptically. The giant Milo strode on his way like the embodiment of
force; at his side tripped Pascherette, her glossy black crown barely
reaching above his waist, her tiny hand hidden completely in his great
fist. And she kept her bright eyes raised to his great height all the
while, satisfied that her little feet should trip, perhaps, if only her
eyes tripped not