he day of waiting on the island, played
golf with Logan over links which he had hastily improvised. Beyond
admitting, as they played, that _his_ treasure was in a tank, 'and as
well as could be expected, poor brute, but awful noisy,' Professor Potter
offered no information.

'Our find is quiet enough,' said Logan.

'Does he give you trouble about food?' asked Mr. Potter.

'Takes nothing,' said Logan, adding, as he holed out, 'that makes me
dormy two.'

From the rest of the competitors not even this amount of information
could be extracted, and as for Captain Noah Funkal, he was taciturn,
authoritative, and, Logan thought, not in a very good temper.

The _George Washington_ and the _Pendragon_ (so Jones Harvey had
christened the yacht which under Bude's colours sailed as _The Sabrina_)
weighed anchor simultaneously. If possible they were not to lose sight
of each other, and they corresponded by signals and through the
megalophone.

The hours of daylight on the first day of the return voyage passed
peacefully at deck-cricket, as far as Logan, Bude, and such of the
officers and men as could be spared were concerned. At last night came
'at one stride,' and the vast ocean plain was only illuminated by the
pale claritude that falls from the stars. Logan and Bude (they had not
dressed for dinner, but wore yachting suits) were smoking on deck, when,
quite suddenly, a loud, almost musical, roar or hum was heard from the
direction of the distant island.

'What's that?' asked Logan, leaping up and looking towards Cagayan Sulu.

'The Berbalangs,' said Bude coolly. 'You are wearing the ring I gave
you?'

'Yes, always do,' said Logan, looking at his hand.

'All the men have their pearls; I saw to that,' said Bude.

'Why, the noise is dwindling,' said Logan. 'That is odd; it seemed to be
coming this way.'

'So it is,' said Bude; 'the nearer they approach the less you hear them.
When they have come on board you won't hear them at all.'

Logan stared, but asked no more questions.

The musical boom as it approached had died to a whisper, and then had
fallen into perfect silence. At the very moment when the mysterious
sound ceased, a swarm of things like red fire-flies, a host of floating
specks of ruby light, invaded the deck in a cluster. The red points then
scattered, approached each man on board, and paused when within a yard of
his head or breast. Then they vanished. A queer kind of chill ran down
Logan's