to destroy you, as you would
have destroyed us. But you may not dwell among us."

Fernandez, wild with fury, shrieked vengeance upon the head of Olga
Obosky. Out of his ravings, the unsavoury crew gleaned enough to
convince them that he was responsible for their present unhappy plight.

"You will pay for this, you snake!" he yelled, foaming at the mouth and
shaking his fist at her. "I will drink your heart's blood! Remember what
Joe Fernandez says. I will come back here and get you,--Oh, I will get
you,--and when I am through with you your dog of a lover may have what
is left. I will cut you to pieces! I swear it--I swear it! Hear my oath!
You double-crossed me! You squealed on me! I will come back, and I will
drink your heart's blood! I swear it!"

He spat in her direction as he was dragged away with the rest of the
gang. Through his glittering, bloodshot eyes he saw the cool, derisive
sneer on her red lips. He had failed, however, to note the keen,
appraising look with which she searched the faces of his baffled,
glowering companions. In that long, tense look she had seen dawning
comprehension change to conviction; she had read his doom, so she
could, in perfect security, give him that scoffing, heartless smile to
take with him on the journey from which he was never to return.

Fifteen men went out to "the Island" that afternoon. From that day, the
authorities provided weekly rations for that number of men. To this
day they are ignorant of the fact that there are but fourteen mouths to
feed.

CHAPTER IV.

In the cool of a balmy January evening, following what had been the
hottest day the castaways had experienced since coming to Trigger
Island, a group of men and women sat upon the Governor's porch. There
was no moon, but the sky was speckled with millions of stars.

Olga Obosky, sitting on the squared log that served as a step, leaned
back against the awning post, her legs stretched out in luxurious
abandon. She was fanning herself, and her breath came rapidly,
pantingly. Now and then she patted her moist face with a handkerchief.

"How warm you are, Olga," said Ruth, who sat beside her. "And you must
be dreadfully tired."

"I am hot, but I am not tired," replied the other. "I could dance all
night, my dear, without tiring. Did you really like the children, Ruth?"

"They were lovely. You have done wonders with them."

"Regular Isadora Duncan stuff," sighed Peter Snipe, drawing lazily at
his