en, if they said anything concerning it, belittled their
country.

Presently, on the surface of the sea at a little distance appeared
something strange, a small and ominous object like a can on the top of a
pole. A voice cried out "Submarine!" and everyone near rushed to look.

"If those Germans try any of their monkey tricks on us, I guess the
United States will give them hell," said another voice near by.

Then from the direction of the pole with the tin can on the top of
it, came something which caused a disturbance in the smooth water and
bubbles to rise in its wake.

"A torpedo!" cried some.

"Shut your mouth," said the voice. "Who dare torpedo a vessel full of
the citizens of the United States?"

Next came a booming crash and a flood of upthrown water, in the wash of
which that speaker was carried away into the deep. Then horror! horror!
horror! indescribable, as the mighty vessel went wallowing to her doom.
Boats launched; boats overset; boats dragged under by her rush through
the water which could not be stayed. Maddened men and women running
to and fro, their eyes starting from their heads, clasping children,
fastening lifebelts over their costly gowns, or appearing from their
cabins, their hands filled with jewels that they sought to save. Orders
cried from high places by stern-faced officers doing their duty to the
last. And a little way off that thin pole with a tin can on the top of
it watching its work.

Then the plunge of the enormous ship into the deep, its huge screws
still whirling in the air and the boom of the bursting boilers. Lastly
everything gone save a few boats floating on the quiet sea and around
them dots that were the heads of struggling human beings.

"Let us go home," said Oro. "I grow tired of this war of your Christian
peoples. It is no better than that of the barbarian nations of the early
world. Indeed it is worse, since then we worshipped Fate and but a few
of us had wisdom. Now you all claim wisdom and declare that you worship
a God of Mercy."

With these words still ringing in my ears I woke up upon the Island of
Orofena, filled with terror at the horrible possibilities of nightmare.

What else could it be? There was the brown and ancient cone of the
extinct volcano. There were the tall palms of the main island and the
lake glittering in the sunlight between. There was Bastin conducting
a kind of Sunday school of Orofenans upon the point of the Rock of
Offerings, as no