ephone messages were
sent, but Nealman had not been seen. And after six hours of patient
search, under that Floridan sun, it was no longer easy to believe that
he lay at the bottom of the lagoon.

The sheriff's men dragged tirelessly, widening out their field of search
until it covered most of the lagoon, but they found neither Nealman nor
Florey. Some of the work was done in the flow-tide, when the waves
breaking on the rocky barrier made the lagoon itself choppy and rough.
They came in tired and discouraged, ready to give up.

In the meantime Van Hope had heard from Lacone--but his message was not
very encouraging either. It would likely be forty hours, he said, before
he could arrive at Kastle Krags. Of course Van Hope and his friends
agreed that there was nothing to do but wait for him.

The sun reached high noon and then began his long, downward drift to the
West. The shadows slowly lengthened almost imperceptibly at first, but
with gradually increasing speed. The heat of the day climbed, reached
its zenith; the diamond-back slept heavily in the shade, a deadly
slumber that was evil to look upon; and the water-moccasin hung
lifelessly in his thickets--and then, so slowly as to pass belief, the
little winds from the West sprang up, bringing relief. It would soon be
night at Kastle Krags. The afternoon was almost gone.

Not one of those northern men mentioned the fact. They were
Anglo-Saxons, and that meant there were certain iron-clad restraints on
their speech. Because of this inherent reserve they had to bottle up
their thoughts, harbor them in silence, with the risk of a violent nerve
explosion in the end. Insanity is not common among the Latin peoples.
They find easy expression in words for all the thoughts that plague
them, thus escaping that strain and tension that works such havoc on the
nervous system. Slatterly and Weldon, native Floridans, had learned a
certain sociability and ease of expression under that tropical sun,
impossible to these cold, northern men; and consequently the day passed
easier for them. Likely they talked over freely the mystery of Kastle
Krags, relieved themselves of their secret dreads, and awaited the
falling of the night with healthy, unburdened minds. They were naturally
more superstitious than the Northerners. They had listened to Congo
myths in the arms of colored mammies in infancy. But superstition, while
a retarding force to civilization, is sometimes a mighty consolation