rry you--to the cave. Stop there. Shoot any one you see--till I
come."

She heard him wonderingly. Was he going to leave her, now that he had
her safely clasped to his breast? Impossible! Ah, she understood. Those
men must have landed in a boat. He intended to attack them again. He
was going to fight them single-handed, and she would not know what
happened to him until it was all over. Gradually her vitality returned.
She almost smiled at the fantastic conceit that _she_ would desert
_him_.

Jenks placed her on her feet at the entrance to the cave.

"You understand," he cried, and without waiting for an answer, ran to
the house for another rifle. This time, to her amazement, he darted
back through Prospect Park towards the south beach. The sailor knew
that the Dyaks had landed at the sandy bay Iris had christened
Smugglers' Cove. They were acquainted with the passage through the reef
and came from the distant islands. Now they would endeavor to escape by
the same channel. They must be prevented at all costs.

He was right. As they came out into the open he saw three men, not two,
pushing off a large sampan. One of them, _mirabile dictu_, was the
chief. Then Jenks understood that his bullet had hit the lock of the
Dyak's uplifted weapon, with the result already described. By a miracle
he had escaped.

He coolly prepared to slay the three of them with the same calm purpose
that distinguished the opening phase of this singularly one-sided
conflict. The distance was much greater, perhaps 800 yards from the
point where the boat came into view. He knelt and fired. He judged that
the missile struck the craft between the trio.

"I didn't allow for the sun on the side of the foresight," he said. "Or
perhaps I am a bit shaky after the run. In any event they can't go
far."

A hurrying step on the coral behind him caught his ear. Instantly he
sprang up and faced about--to see Iris.

"They are escaping," she said.

"No fear of that," he replied, turning away from her.

"Where are the others?"

"Dead!"

"Do you mean that you killed nearly all those men?"

"Six of them. There were nine in all."

He knelt again, lifting the rifle. Iris threw herself on her knees by
his side. There was something awful to her in this chill and
business-like declaration of a fixed purpose.

"Mr. Jenks," she said, clasping her hands in an agony of entreaty, "do
not kill more men for my sake!"

"For my own sake, then," he growled, anno