eft
end smeared with a slash of purple, and over it a very red and very
round sun. The land sloped away from the peak to the other end of
the island, and was lost in a white streak extending seaward, the
the bony finger of a skeleton, marking a reef clothed with fuzzy
breakers. A rocky ledge ran down to where the reef began and a big
gray stone stood up abruptly, giving the island the appearance of
a bluff-bowed vessel, and under it, a triangular patch of beach.
Near the rock were four palm trees. One bent over at a sharp angle,
as if it had been partly uprooted, and its moppy fronds almost
trailed in the still water of a pool formed by a second reef, not
so clearly defined, which ran parallel with the land. Except inside
this natural basin the whole shore of the island was wreathed by
white rollers and behind the shore line was a fringe of vividly
green jungle.

"Oh, isn't that splendid!" exclaimed Marjorie.

"It's a work o' art, that's what everybody says," remarked the old
man with a show of pride.

"What do you call the island?" asked Locke.

"The name don't matter, sir. 'Dinshaw's Island' they call it
hereabouts, in honour o' the fact I was wrecked on it. Blown off my
course in a typhoon at night and went smash into this reef ye see
here. I was washed out o' the riggin', an' when I come to I was on
the beach here, wreckage all round, an' the sun shinin' bright as a
whiffet, an' me all beat out an' water-logged. Right there it was,"
and he put his thumb on a spot near the rock.

"Is it a big island?" asked Trask.

"Not in the way ye might think. Big enough as it goes, but it ain't
the size what counts," and he broke into a cackling laugh, wagging
his head, as if he held the secret of a great joke.

"Where is it?" asked Locke.

"Thar's lots as would like to know, sir," said Dinshaw, gravely.
"But I ain't in the way o' tellin', not until I can see my way
clear to go myself."

"It is near the mainland of Luzon?" asked Trask.

Dinshaw turned quickly and peered at him suspiciously, pursing his
lips.

"It is," he said, finally.

"I don't see any other land in the picture," ventured Trask,
scanning the canvas with more care.

"Ye bet ye don't!" snapped Dinshaw, with sudden asperity. "I left
that out so they can't find it. Lots as would like to find
Dinshaw's island, young man, but I'm savin' it for myself. Jarrow
said he'd take me, but he never did. He wants to go steal it
himself. I know. I know. They