ing a runner back to the boat. And luck was with
me at that moment. As I racked my brain in the construction of a
suitable excuse to account for my appearance, my eyes fell upon the
Professor's camera that had been overlooked in the hurry of departure,
and I sprang upon it joyfully and hid it till the time had elapsed.
Knowing the importance which the old scientist attached to the
photographs which he intended to take, I knew that he, at least, would
reason that the captain had acted wisely in sending me in pursuit with
the instrument, and I trusted that his gratitude would move him to get
Leith's permission to allow me to remain with the expedition.

The party had been gone some six hours when I slipped over the side into
the dory. Newmarch was below, and only one of the crew was on deck. I
seized the oars and struck out for the shore, but I had hardly covered
twenty paces when the captain rushed to the rail, took one glance at me,
and then dashed toward the companion-stairs.

I sensed the motive in that mad dash for the cabin, and I pulled madly.
Thoughts of Edith Herndon thronged my brain, and I drove the dory toward
the promontory with every ounce of strength I possessed. To return to
the yacht while she was in the eerie jungle-growth under Leith's
protection would be worse than death, and I didn't pause for an instant
when the captain's squeaky voice hailed me.

"Come back at once!" he shouted. "Are you coming?"

I bent my back to the oars and pulled with every muscle strained. The
perspiration half blinded me, but one glance upward convinced me that I
had sensed the captain's motive when I saw him rush from the side. He
was standing on the poop, taking deliberate aim at me with a Winchester
rifle that he had taken from the rack in his own cabin.

It seemed an age before he fired. The bullet missed the side of the boat
by about three inches, and I shrieked my defiance. The devil had my
nerves on edge, but the green tongue of land was close, and I pulled as
never man pulled before.

A bullet lodged in the stern of the boat, another splintered the end of
an oar, and then the rifleman's nerves must have got the better of him.
The succeeding shots fell wide, and I whooped like a madman as I drove
the boat on to the green tongue of land. Springing out hastily I made a
dash across the white strip of sand, and dived into the moist creeper
growth.

I lay there panting, watching the yacht to see what Newmarch would d