Volume Three—Chapter Nine.

Volume Three—Chapter Nine.New Formosa—The Something Comes Again.About the middle of the night Pan moved, sat up, gave a low growl, then rushed outside to the full length of his cord, and set up a barking.“Pan! Pan!” said Bevis, awakened.“What is it?” said Mark.Hearing their voices and feeling himself supported, Pan increased his uproar. Bevis ran outside with Mark and looked round the stockade. It was still night, but night was wending to the morn. The moon was low behind the trees. The stars shone white and without scintillating. They could distinctly see every corner of the courtyard; there was nothing in it.“It’s the something,” said Mark. Together they ran across to the gateway in the stockade, though they had no boots on. They looked outside; there was nothing. Everything was perfectly still, as if the very trees slept.“We left the gate open,” said Bevis.“I don’t believe it’s ever been locked but once,” said Mark.Neither had it. On the boards the wizard’s foot was drawn to keep out the ethereal genii, but they had neglected to padlock the door to keep out the material. They locked it now, and returned to the hut. Pan wagged his tail, but continued to give short barks as much as to say, thathewas not satisfied, though they had seen nothing.“What can it be?” said Mark. “If Pan used to swim off every night, he could not have had all the things.”“No. We’ll look in the morning and see if there are any marks on the ground.”They sat up a little while talking about it, and then reclined; in three minutes they were firm asleep again. Pan curled up, but outside the hut now; once or twice he growled inwardly.In the morning they remembered the incident the moment they woke, and before letting Pan loose, carefully examined every foot of the ground inside the stockade. There was not the slightest spoor. Nor was there outside the gate; but it was possible that an animal might pass there without leaving much sign in the thin grass. When Pan was let free he ran eagerly to the gate, but then stopped, looked about him, and came back seeming: to take no further interest. The scent was gone.“No cooking,” said Mark, as they sat down to breakfast. “Glad I’m not a girl to have to do that sort of thing.”“I wish there was some wind,” said Bevis, “so that we could have a sail.”There was a little air moving, but not sufficient to make sailing pleasant in so cumbrous a craft as the Calypso. They had their bath, but did not cross to Serendib, lest Pan should follow and disturb the water-fowl. So soon as they had dressed, the matchlock was loaded—it was Mark’s day—and they brought the raft round.Mark sat on the deck in front with the match lit, and the barrel balanced on a fixed rest they had put up for it, not the movable staff. Bevis poled the raft across to Serendib, and then very quietly round the northern end of that island, where the water was deep enough to let the raft pass close to the blue gum boughs. Coming round to the other side, Mark moved his left hand, which was the signal that they had agreed on, when Bevis kept his pole on the ground, dragging so as to almost anchor the Calypso.In a quarter of a minute Mark fired, and Pan instantly jumped overboard. The force of his fall carried him under water, but he rose directly and brought the moorhen back to them. Bevis dragged him on board—the moorhen in his mouth—by the neck, for he could not climb over the bulwarks from the water. After the gun was loaded Bevis pushed on again slowly, but the report had frightened the others, and there were no more out feeding. They stayed therefore under the blue gum boughs and waited. Pan wanted to leap ashore and play havoc, but they would not let him, for it was impossible to shoot flying with their heavy gun.Some time passed, and then Bevis caught sight of a neck and a head; there was nothing more visible, near the shore along which they had come. It was a dab-chick or lesser grebe. At that, the stern end of the raft, there was no rest, but Mark sat down and put the barrel on the bulwarks. Bevis whispered to him to wait till the dab-chick turned its head, for this bird, which swims almost flush with the water, goes under in an instant, having only to get his head down to disappear. He will dive at the faintest sound or movement that he does not recognise, but soon comes up again, and will often duck at the flash of a gun too quick for the shot to strike him. Mark waited his chance and instantly fired, and Pan brought them the grebe.They waited what seemed a very long time, but nothing appeared, so Pan was thrown ashore by his neck crash in among the “gix” and meadowsweet. He did not care for that, he went to work in an instant. Mark got ready, for though he could not shoot flying he thought some of them would perhaps swim off. This happened, two moorhens came rushing out, one flew, the other swam as hastily as he could, and Mark shot the latter. But before he could load again Pan had disturbed the whole island, some went this way, some that, and all the fowl were scattered.It was some time before they could get the excited spaniel on board; so soon as they could, Bevis poled the raft along to Bamboo Island, where several coots and moorhens had taken refuge. As they came near these being now on the alert began to move off. Mark aimed at one, but he was he thought not quite near enough: Bevis poled faster, when the moorhen at the splash began to rise, scuttling and dragging the long hanging legs along the surface.Mark drew the match down into the priming, the shot widening as it went, struck up the water like a shower round the moorhen, which though only hit by one pellet, fell and dived: Pan following. The bird came up to breathe. Pan saw her, and yelped. He touched ground and ran plunging in the water, cantering, lifting his fore-paws and beating the water, for he could not run in the same way as ashore. He caught another glimpse of the bird, dashed to the spot, and thrust his nose and head right under, but missed her. By now the raft had come up, and they beat the weeds with their poles. The moorhen doubled into the bamboos and sedges, but they were so thick they hindered her progress, and Pan snapped her up in a moment.From Bamboo Island, Bevis poled round to five or six banks covered with sedges, and Mark had another shot, but this time, perhaps a little too confident, he missed altogether. There did not seem any probability of their shooting any more, so they returned towards New Formosa, when Mark wanted to have one more look round the lower and more level end of that island. Bevis poled that way, and Mark, seeing something black with a white bill moving in the weeds, fired—a very long shot—and felt sure that he had wounded the bird, though for a minute it disappeared. Presently Pan brought them a young coot.Mark had now shot three moorhens, a coot, and a dab-chick, but what pleased him most was the moorhen he had hit while flying, though but one shot had taken effect. He could not have shot so many with so cumbrous a gun had not the water-fowl been nearly all young, and had not some time gone by since the last raid had been made upon these sedgy covers; so that, as is the case on all uninhabited islands, the birds were easy to approach.Finding that the sun-dial still only gave the time as half-past twelve, Mark wanted to try spinning again for jack if Bevis was not too tired of poling on the raft. Bevis was willing, so they started again, and he poled slowly along the edge of the broad bands of weeds, while Mark drew the bait through the water. He had one success, bringing a jack of about two pounds on deck, but no more.Then, returning to New Formosa, they visited the wires set for kangaroos, which had been forgotten. One had been pushed down, but nothing was caught. The wires were moved and set up in other runs, with more caution not to touch the grass or the run—the kangaroo’s footpath—with the hand, and the loops were made a little larger. If the loop is too small the rabbit pushes the wire aside; so that it had better be just a little too large, that the head may be certain to go through, when the shoulders will draw the noose tight. They did not sit down to dinner till past two o’clock, having had a long morning, no part of which had been lost in cooking.Watching for Charlie in the afternoon, they reclined on the cliff under the oak, resting, and talking but little. The light of the sun was often intercepted, not entirely shut off, but intercepted by thin white clouds slowly drifting over, which like branches held back so much of the rays that the sun could occasionally be looked at. Then he came out again and lit up the waters in gleaming splendour. There was enough ripple to prevent them from seeing any basking fish, but the shifting, uncertain air was not enough to be called a breeze.Lying at full length inside the shadow of the oak, Bevis gazed up at the clouds, which were at an immense height, and drifted so slowly as to scarcely seem to move, only he saw that they did because he had a fixed point in the edge of the oak boughs. So thin and delicate was the texture of the white sky-lace above him that the threads scarcely hid the blue which the eye knew was behind and above it. It was warm without the pressure of heat, soft, luxurious; the summer like them reclined, resting in the fulness of the time.The summer rested before it went on to autumn. Already the tips of the reeds were brown, the leaves of the birch were specked, and some of the willows dropped yellow ovals on the water; the acorns were bulging in their cups, the haws showed among the hawthorn as their green turned red; there was a gloss on the blue sloes among the “wait-a-bit” blackthorns, red threads appeared in the moss of the canker-roses on the briars. A sense of rest, the rest not of weariness, but of full growth, was in the atmosphere; tree, plant, and grassy things had reached their fulness and strength.The summer shadow lingered on the dial, the sun slowed his pace, pausing on his way, in the rich light the fruits filled. The earth had listened to the chorus of the birds, and as they ceased gave them their meed of berry, seed, and grain. There was no labour for them; their granaries were full. Ethereal gold floated about the hills, filling their hollows to the brim with haze. Like a grape the air was ripe and luscious, and to breathe it was a drowsy joy. For Circe had smoothed her garment and slumbered, and the very sun moved slow.They remained idle under the oak for some time after Charlie had made the usual signal; but when the shadow of the wood came out over the brambles towards the fence Mark reloaded the matchlock, and they went into ambush by Kangaroo Hill among the hazel bushes this time on the opposite side. The hazel bushes seemed quite vacant, only one bird passed while they were there, and that was a robin, come to see what they were doing and if there was anything for him. In the butchery of the Wars of the Roses, that such flowers should be stained with such memories! it is certain as the murderers watched the robin perched hard by. He listened to the voice of fair Rosamond; he was at the tryst when Amy Robsart met her lover. Nothing happens in the fields and woods without a robin.Mark had a shot at last at a kangaroo, but though Pan raced his hardest it escaped into the bury. It was of no use to wait any longer, so they walked very slowly round the island, waiting behind every bush, and looking out over the water. There was nothing till, as they returned the other side, they saw the parrots approach and descend into the ivy-grown oak. Bevis held Pan while Mark crept forward from tree-trunk to tree-trunk till he was near enough, when he put the heavy barrel against a tree, in the same way Bevis had done. His aim was true, and the parrot fell.It had been agreed that Bevis should have the gun at night, for he wished to go on the mainland and see if he could shoot anything in the Waste, but still unsatisfied Mark wanted yet another shot. The thirst of the chase was on him; he could not desist. Since there was nothing else he fired at and killed a thrush they found perched on the top of the stockade. Mark put down the gun with a sigh that his shooting was over.Bevis waited till it was full moonlight, putting down a few things in his journal, while Mark skinned three of his finest perch, which he meant to have for supper. To be obliged to cook was one thing, to cook just for the pleasure of the taste was a different thing. He skinned them because he knew the extreme difficulty of scraping the thickset hard scales. Presently Bevis loaded the gun; he was going to do so with ball, when Mark pointed out that he could not be certain of a perfectly accurate aim by moonlight. This was true, so he reluctantly put shot. Mark’s one desire was to fetch down his game; Bevis wished to kill with the precision of a single bullet.They poled the raft ashore, and both landed, but Mark stayed among the bramble thickets holding Pan, while Bevis went out into the Waste. He did not mean to stay in ambush long anywhere, but to try and get a shot from behind the bushes. Crouching in the brambles, Mark soon lost sight of him, so soon that he seemed to have vanished; the ant-hills, the tall thistles, and the hawthorns concealed him.Bevis stepped noiselessly round the green ant-hills, sometimes startling a lark, till, when he looked back, he scarcely knew which way he had come. In a meadow or a cornfield the smooth surface lets the glance travel at once to the opposite hedge, and the shape of the enclosure or one at least of its boundaries is seen, so that the position is understood. But here the ant-hills and the rush-bunches, the thickets of thistles and brambles gave the ground an uneven surface, and the hawthorn-trees hid the outline.There was no outline; it was a dim uncertain expanse with shadows, and a grey mist rising here and there, and slight rustlings as pads pressed the sward, or wings rose from roost. Once he fancied he saw a light upon the ground not so far off; he moved that way, but the thistles or bushes hid it. A silent owl startled him as it slipped past; he stamped his foot with anger that he should have been startled. Twice he caught a glimpse of white tails, but he could not shoot running with the matchlock.Incessantly winding round and round the ant-hills, he did not know which way he was going, except that he tried to keep the moon a little on his left hand, thinking he could shoot better with the light like that. After some time he reached a boulder, another one not so large as that they had examined together; this was about as high as his chest.He leaned against it and looked over; there was a green waggon track the other side, which wound out from the bushes, and again disappeared among them. Though he knew that Mark could not be far, and that a whistle would bring him, he felt utterly alone. It was wilder than the island—the desolate thistles, the waste of rushes, the thorns, the untouched land which the ants possessed and not man, the cold grey boulder, the dots of mist here and there, and the pale light of the moon. Something of the mystery of the ancient days hovers at night over these untilled places. He leaned against the stone and looked for the flicker of light which he had seen, and supposed must be a will-o’-the-wisp, but he did not see it again.Suddenly something came round the corner of the smooth green waggon track, and he knew in an instant by the peculiar amble that it was a hare. The long barrel of the matchlock was cautiously placed on the stone, and he aimed as well as he could, for when looked at along a barrel objects have a singular way of disappearing at night. Then he paused, for the hare still came on. Hares seem to see little in front; their eyes sweep each side, but straight ahead they are blind till the air brings them the scent they dread.All at once the hare sat up—he had sniffed Bevis, and the same minute the flash rushed from the muzzle. Bevis ran directly and found the hare struggling; almost as soon as he had lifted him up Pan was there. Then Mark came leaping from ant-hill to ant-hill, and crushing through the thistles in his haste. As Mark had come direct from the shore he knew the general direction, and they hurried back to the raft, fearing some of the savages might come to see who was shooting on the mainland. Once on the island, as the perch were cooking, the game was spread out on the table—three moorhens, a coot, a dab-chick, a wood-pigeon, a hare, and the jack Mark had caught.Of all the hare, or rather leveret, for it was a young one, was the finest. His black-tipped ears, his clean pads, his fur—every separate hair with three shades of colour—it was a pleasure to smooth his fur down with the hand.“This is the jolliest day we’ve had,” said Mark. “All shooting and killing and real hunting—real island—and no work and no cooking, except just what we like. It’s splendid.”“If only Val and Cecil could see,” said Bevis, handling the ears of his hare for the twentieth time. “Won’t they go on when we tell them?”“Don’t talk about that,” said Mark; “don’t say anything about going home; that’s the Other Side, you know.”“So it is. No, we won’t say anything about it. Isn’t he a beauty!”“A real beauty,” said Mark. “Now let’s see how we can shoot a lot more to-morrow; it’s your turn; will you let me shoot once?”“Of course; twice.”“Hurrah! First let’s get up very early and see if a kangaroo is out; then let’s go round Serendib; and, I say, let’s go nearly up to Sweet River Falls—not quite, not near enough for the savages—and, I say! there must be heaps of things in all those sedges we tried to walk through once!”“We could pole across to them.”“Of course; and then get in ambush on the mainland in the evening, and shoot another parrot, and fish—no, fishing is slow, rather. Suppose we make a fish-spear and stick them! and stick it into the mud for eels. Could you think how to make a fish-spear, not my bone harpoon, an iron one—sharp?”“I’ll try.”“O! you can do it; and let’s put up some more wires, and—I do declare, I forgot to put in some more trimmers; we might put twenty trimmers and nightlines—”“And build a hut on Serendib to wait in in winter when the ducks come—don’t you remember last winter—hundreds of them?”“First-rate! But now to-morrow. How stupid we never brought any nets!”“Well, that was stupid,” said Bevis, still stroking his hare; he loved the creature he had slain. “I can’t think how we forgot the nets.”“There’s thousands of fish; we could haul out a boatful. Let’s see, isn’t there anything else we could do? Wish we had some ferrets! It’s not the right time, but still it doesn’t matter.”“Perhaps we could build a fence-net,” said Bevis. “I forget the proper name; it’s a stockade like a V, and you drive all the animals in with dogs.”“And a pit with strong spikes at the bottom in the corner. The perch are ready; move the things.”Bevis hung the hare up in the cave, but yet remained a moment to stroke the unconscious creature. The perch were very good indeed; as they were not in a hurry the fish had been cooked better. They played cards afterwards, discussing in the meantime various ways of killing the animals and birds about them.Already in one day they had got more than enough to serve them for three or four, yet they were not satisfied. Like savages, they were hurried on by the thirst of the chase, like the thirst for wine; their tongues were parched with the dry sulphur fumes of powder; they hungered to repeat the wild excitement when the game was struck and hunted down. Had it been the buffaloes of the prairie, it would have been just the same; had it been the great elephants of inner Africa, they would have shot them down without even a thought of the ivory.As they were fastening up Pan at the doorway before lying down they recollected the visit of the unknown creature on the previous night, and went out and padlocked the gate. The matchlock was loaded with shot, which did not require so accurate an aim, and was therefore best for shooting in a hurry, and instead of being hung up it was leaned against the wall as more accessible, and the priming seen to. A long candle was put in the lantern on the niche and left burning, so that if awakened they could see to get the gun at once. The creature went off so quickly that not a moment must be lost in shooting if it came again, and they said to each other (to set the clock of their minds) that they would not stop to listen, but jump up the second they awoke if Pan barked. This time they thought they should be sure to see the animal at least, if not shoot it.

About the middle of the night Pan moved, sat up, gave a low growl, then rushed outside to the full length of his cord, and set up a barking.

“Pan! Pan!” said Bevis, awakened.

“What is it?” said Mark.

Hearing their voices and feeling himself supported, Pan increased his uproar. Bevis ran outside with Mark and looked round the stockade. It was still night, but night was wending to the morn. The moon was low behind the trees. The stars shone white and without scintillating. They could distinctly see every corner of the courtyard; there was nothing in it.

“It’s the something,” said Mark. Together they ran across to the gateway in the stockade, though they had no boots on. They looked outside; there was nothing. Everything was perfectly still, as if the very trees slept.

“We left the gate open,” said Bevis.

“I don’t believe it’s ever been locked but once,” said Mark.

Neither had it. On the boards the wizard’s foot was drawn to keep out the ethereal genii, but they had neglected to padlock the door to keep out the material. They locked it now, and returned to the hut. Pan wagged his tail, but continued to give short barks as much as to say, thathewas not satisfied, though they had seen nothing.

“What can it be?” said Mark. “If Pan used to swim off every night, he could not have had all the things.”

“No. We’ll look in the morning and see if there are any marks on the ground.”

They sat up a little while talking about it, and then reclined; in three minutes they were firm asleep again. Pan curled up, but outside the hut now; once or twice he growled inwardly.

In the morning they remembered the incident the moment they woke, and before letting Pan loose, carefully examined every foot of the ground inside the stockade. There was not the slightest spoor. Nor was there outside the gate; but it was possible that an animal might pass there without leaving much sign in the thin grass. When Pan was let free he ran eagerly to the gate, but then stopped, looked about him, and came back seeming: to take no further interest. The scent was gone.

“No cooking,” said Mark, as they sat down to breakfast. “Glad I’m not a girl to have to do that sort of thing.”

“I wish there was some wind,” said Bevis, “so that we could have a sail.”

There was a little air moving, but not sufficient to make sailing pleasant in so cumbrous a craft as the Calypso. They had their bath, but did not cross to Serendib, lest Pan should follow and disturb the water-fowl. So soon as they had dressed, the matchlock was loaded—it was Mark’s day—and they brought the raft round.

Mark sat on the deck in front with the match lit, and the barrel balanced on a fixed rest they had put up for it, not the movable staff. Bevis poled the raft across to Serendib, and then very quietly round the northern end of that island, where the water was deep enough to let the raft pass close to the blue gum boughs. Coming round to the other side, Mark moved his left hand, which was the signal that they had agreed on, when Bevis kept his pole on the ground, dragging so as to almost anchor the Calypso.

In a quarter of a minute Mark fired, and Pan instantly jumped overboard. The force of his fall carried him under water, but he rose directly and brought the moorhen back to them. Bevis dragged him on board—the moorhen in his mouth—by the neck, for he could not climb over the bulwarks from the water. After the gun was loaded Bevis pushed on again slowly, but the report had frightened the others, and there were no more out feeding. They stayed therefore under the blue gum boughs and waited. Pan wanted to leap ashore and play havoc, but they would not let him, for it was impossible to shoot flying with their heavy gun.

Some time passed, and then Bevis caught sight of a neck and a head; there was nothing more visible, near the shore along which they had come. It was a dab-chick or lesser grebe. At that, the stern end of the raft, there was no rest, but Mark sat down and put the barrel on the bulwarks. Bevis whispered to him to wait till the dab-chick turned its head, for this bird, which swims almost flush with the water, goes under in an instant, having only to get his head down to disappear. He will dive at the faintest sound or movement that he does not recognise, but soon comes up again, and will often duck at the flash of a gun too quick for the shot to strike him. Mark waited his chance and instantly fired, and Pan brought them the grebe.

They waited what seemed a very long time, but nothing appeared, so Pan was thrown ashore by his neck crash in among the “gix” and meadowsweet. He did not care for that, he went to work in an instant. Mark got ready, for though he could not shoot flying he thought some of them would perhaps swim off. This happened, two moorhens came rushing out, one flew, the other swam as hastily as he could, and Mark shot the latter. But before he could load again Pan had disturbed the whole island, some went this way, some that, and all the fowl were scattered.

It was some time before they could get the excited spaniel on board; so soon as they could, Bevis poled the raft along to Bamboo Island, where several coots and moorhens had taken refuge. As they came near these being now on the alert began to move off. Mark aimed at one, but he was he thought not quite near enough: Bevis poled faster, when the moorhen at the splash began to rise, scuttling and dragging the long hanging legs along the surface.

Mark drew the match down into the priming, the shot widening as it went, struck up the water like a shower round the moorhen, which though only hit by one pellet, fell and dived: Pan following. The bird came up to breathe. Pan saw her, and yelped. He touched ground and ran plunging in the water, cantering, lifting his fore-paws and beating the water, for he could not run in the same way as ashore. He caught another glimpse of the bird, dashed to the spot, and thrust his nose and head right under, but missed her. By now the raft had come up, and they beat the weeds with their poles. The moorhen doubled into the bamboos and sedges, but they were so thick they hindered her progress, and Pan snapped her up in a moment.

From Bamboo Island, Bevis poled round to five or six banks covered with sedges, and Mark had another shot, but this time, perhaps a little too confident, he missed altogether. There did not seem any probability of their shooting any more, so they returned towards New Formosa, when Mark wanted to have one more look round the lower and more level end of that island. Bevis poled that way, and Mark, seeing something black with a white bill moving in the weeds, fired—a very long shot—and felt sure that he had wounded the bird, though for a minute it disappeared. Presently Pan brought them a young coot.

Mark had now shot three moorhens, a coot, and a dab-chick, but what pleased him most was the moorhen he had hit while flying, though but one shot had taken effect. He could not have shot so many with so cumbrous a gun had not the water-fowl been nearly all young, and had not some time gone by since the last raid had been made upon these sedgy covers; so that, as is the case on all uninhabited islands, the birds were easy to approach.

Finding that the sun-dial still only gave the time as half-past twelve, Mark wanted to try spinning again for jack if Bevis was not too tired of poling on the raft. Bevis was willing, so they started again, and he poled slowly along the edge of the broad bands of weeds, while Mark drew the bait through the water. He had one success, bringing a jack of about two pounds on deck, but no more.

Then, returning to New Formosa, they visited the wires set for kangaroos, which had been forgotten. One had been pushed down, but nothing was caught. The wires were moved and set up in other runs, with more caution not to touch the grass or the run—the kangaroo’s footpath—with the hand, and the loops were made a little larger. If the loop is too small the rabbit pushes the wire aside; so that it had better be just a little too large, that the head may be certain to go through, when the shoulders will draw the noose tight. They did not sit down to dinner till past two o’clock, having had a long morning, no part of which had been lost in cooking.

Watching for Charlie in the afternoon, they reclined on the cliff under the oak, resting, and talking but little. The light of the sun was often intercepted, not entirely shut off, but intercepted by thin white clouds slowly drifting over, which like branches held back so much of the rays that the sun could occasionally be looked at. Then he came out again and lit up the waters in gleaming splendour. There was enough ripple to prevent them from seeing any basking fish, but the shifting, uncertain air was not enough to be called a breeze.

Lying at full length inside the shadow of the oak, Bevis gazed up at the clouds, which were at an immense height, and drifted so slowly as to scarcely seem to move, only he saw that they did because he had a fixed point in the edge of the oak boughs. So thin and delicate was the texture of the white sky-lace above him that the threads scarcely hid the blue which the eye knew was behind and above it. It was warm without the pressure of heat, soft, luxurious; the summer like them reclined, resting in the fulness of the time.

The summer rested before it went on to autumn. Already the tips of the reeds were brown, the leaves of the birch were specked, and some of the willows dropped yellow ovals on the water; the acorns were bulging in their cups, the haws showed among the hawthorn as their green turned red; there was a gloss on the blue sloes among the “wait-a-bit” blackthorns, red threads appeared in the moss of the canker-roses on the briars. A sense of rest, the rest not of weariness, but of full growth, was in the atmosphere; tree, plant, and grassy things had reached their fulness and strength.

The summer shadow lingered on the dial, the sun slowed his pace, pausing on his way, in the rich light the fruits filled. The earth had listened to the chorus of the birds, and as they ceased gave them their meed of berry, seed, and grain. There was no labour for them; their granaries were full. Ethereal gold floated about the hills, filling their hollows to the brim with haze. Like a grape the air was ripe and luscious, and to breathe it was a drowsy joy. For Circe had smoothed her garment and slumbered, and the very sun moved slow.

They remained idle under the oak for some time after Charlie had made the usual signal; but when the shadow of the wood came out over the brambles towards the fence Mark reloaded the matchlock, and they went into ambush by Kangaroo Hill among the hazel bushes this time on the opposite side. The hazel bushes seemed quite vacant, only one bird passed while they were there, and that was a robin, come to see what they were doing and if there was anything for him. In the butchery of the Wars of the Roses, that such flowers should be stained with such memories! it is certain as the murderers watched the robin perched hard by. He listened to the voice of fair Rosamond; he was at the tryst when Amy Robsart met her lover. Nothing happens in the fields and woods without a robin.

Mark had a shot at last at a kangaroo, but though Pan raced his hardest it escaped into the bury. It was of no use to wait any longer, so they walked very slowly round the island, waiting behind every bush, and looking out over the water. There was nothing till, as they returned the other side, they saw the parrots approach and descend into the ivy-grown oak. Bevis held Pan while Mark crept forward from tree-trunk to tree-trunk till he was near enough, when he put the heavy barrel against a tree, in the same way Bevis had done. His aim was true, and the parrot fell.

It had been agreed that Bevis should have the gun at night, for he wished to go on the mainland and see if he could shoot anything in the Waste, but still unsatisfied Mark wanted yet another shot. The thirst of the chase was on him; he could not desist. Since there was nothing else he fired at and killed a thrush they found perched on the top of the stockade. Mark put down the gun with a sigh that his shooting was over.

Bevis waited till it was full moonlight, putting down a few things in his journal, while Mark skinned three of his finest perch, which he meant to have for supper. To be obliged to cook was one thing, to cook just for the pleasure of the taste was a different thing. He skinned them because he knew the extreme difficulty of scraping the thickset hard scales. Presently Bevis loaded the gun; he was going to do so with ball, when Mark pointed out that he could not be certain of a perfectly accurate aim by moonlight. This was true, so he reluctantly put shot. Mark’s one desire was to fetch down his game; Bevis wished to kill with the precision of a single bullet.

They poled the raft ashore, and both landed, but Mark stayed among the bramble thickets holding Pan, while Bevis went out into the Waste. He did not mean to stay in ambush long anywhere, but to try and get a shot from behind the bushes. Crouching in the brambles, Mark soon lost sight of him, so soon that he seemed to have vanished; the ant-hills, the tall thistles, and the hawthorns concealed him.

Bevis stepped noiselessly round the green ant-hills, sometimes startling a lark, till, when he looked back, he scarcely knew which way he had come. In a meadow or a cornfield the smooth surface lets the glance travel at once to the opposite hedge, and the shape of the enclosure or one at least of its boundaries is seen, so that the position is understood. But here the ant-hills and the rush-bunches, the thickets of thistles and brambles gave the ground an uneven surface, and the hawthorn-trees hid the outline.

There was no outline; it was a dim uncertain expanse with shadows, and a grey mist rising here and there, and slight rustlings as pads pressed the sward, or wings rose from roost. Once he fancied he saw a light upon the ground not so far off; he moved that way, but the thistles or bushes hid it. A silent owl startled him as it slipped past; he stamped his foot with anger that he should have been startled. Twice he caught a glimpse of white tails, but he could not shoot running with the matchlock.

Incessantly winding round and round the ant-hills, he did not know which way he was going, except that he tried to keep the moon a little on his left hand, thinking he could shoot better with the light like that. After some time he reached a boulder, another one not so large as that they had examined together; this was about as high as his chest.

He leaned against it and looked over; there was a green waggon track the other side, which wound out from the bushes, and again disappeared among them. Though he knew that Mark could not be far, and that a whistle would bring him, he felt utterly alone. It was wilder than the island—the desolate thistles, the waste of rushes, the thorns, the untouched land which the ants possessed and not man, the cold grey boulder, the dots of mist here and there, and the pale light of the moon. Something of the mystery of the ancient days hovers at night over these untilled places. He leaned against the stone and looked for the flicker of light which he had seen, and supposed must be a will-o’-the-wisp, but he did not see it again.

Suddenly something came round the corner of the smooth green waggon track, and he knew in an instant by the peculiar amble that it was a hare. The long barrel of the matchlock was cautiously placed on the stone, and he aimed as well as he could, for when looked at along a barrel objects have a singular way of disappearing at night. Then he paused, for the hare still came on. Hares seem to see little in front; their eyes sweep each side, but straight ahead they are blind till the air brings them the scent they dread.

All at once the hare sat up—he had sniffed Bevis, and the same minute the flash rushed from the muzzle. Bevis ran directly and found the hare struggling; almost as soon as he had lifted him up Pan was there. Then Mark came leaping from ant-hill to ant-hill, and crushing through the thistles in his haste. As Mark had come direct from the shore he knew the general direction, and they hurried back to the raft, fearing some of the savages might come to see who was shooting on the mainland. Once on the island, as the perch were cooking, the game was spread out on the table—three moorhens, a coot, a dab-chick, a wood-pigeon, a hare, and the jack Mark had caught.

Of all the hare, or rather leveret, for it was a young one, was the finest. His black-tipped ears, his clean pads, his fur—every separate hair with three shades of colour—it was a pleasure to smooth his fur down with the hand.

“This is the jolliest day we’ve had,” said Mark. “All shooting and killing and real hunting—real island—and no work and no cooking, except just what we like. It’s splendid.”

“If only Val and Cecil could see,” said Bevis, handling the ears of his hare for the twentieth time. “Won’t they go on when we tell them?”

“Don’t talk about that,” said Mark; “don’t say anything about going home; that’s the Other Side, you know.”

“So it is. No, we won’t say anything about it. Isn’t he a beauty!”

“A real beauty,” said Mark. “Now let’s see how we can shoot a lot more to-morrow; it’s your turn; will you let me shoot once?”

“Of course; twice.”

“Hurrah! First let’s get up very early and see if a kangaroo is out; then let’s go round Serendib; and, I say, let’s go nearly up to Sweet River Falls—not quite, not near enough for the savages—and, I say! there must be heaps of things in all those sedges we tried to walk through once!”

“We could pole across to them.”

“Of course; and then get in ambush on the mainland in the evening, and shoot another parrot, and fish—no, fishing is slow, rather. Suppose we make a fish-spear and stick them! and stick it into the mud for eels. Could you think how to make a fish-spear, not my bone harpoon, an iron one—sharp?”

“I’ll try.”

“O! you can do it; and let’s put up some more wires, and—I do declare, I forgot to put in some more trimmers; we might put twenty trimmers and nightlines—”

“And build a hut on Serendib to wait in in winter when the ducks come—don’t you remember last winter—hundreds of them?”

“First-rate! But now to-morrow. How stupid we never brought any nets!”

“Well, that was stupid,” said Bevis, still stroking his hare; he loved the creature he had slain. “I can’t think how we forgot the nets.”

“There’s thousands of fish; we could haul out a boatful. Let’s see, isn’t there anything else we could do? Wish we had some ferrets! It’s not the right time, but still it doesn’t matter.”

“Perhaps we could build a fence-net,” said Bevis. “I forget the proper name; it’s a stockade like a V, and you drive all the animals in with dogs.”

“And a pit with strong spikes at the bottom in the corner. The perch are ready; move the things.”

Bevis hung the hare up in the cave, but yet remained a moment to stroke the unconscious creature. The perch were very good indeed; as they were not in a hurry the fish had been cooked better. They played cards afterwards, discussing in the meantime various ways of killing the animals and birds about them.

Already in one day they had got more than enough to serve them for three or four, yet they were not satisfied. Like savages, they were hurried on by the thirst of the chase, like the thirst for wine; their tongues were parched with the dry sulphur fumes of powder; they hungered to repeat the wild excitement when the game was struck and hunted down. Had it been the buffaloes of the prairie, it would have been just the same; had it been the great elephants of inner Africa, they would have shot them down without even a thought of the ivory.

As they were fastening up Pan at the doorway before lying down they recollected the visit of the unknown creature on the previous night, and went out and padlocked the gate. The matchlock was loaded with shot, which did not require so accurate an aim, and was therefore best for shooting in a hurry, and instead of being hung up it was leaned against the wall as more accessible, and the priming seen to. A long candle was put in the lantern on the niche and left burning, so that if awakened they could see to get the gun at once. The creature went off so quickly that not a moment must be lost in shooting if it came again, and they said to each other (to set the clock of their minds) that they would not stop to listen, but jump up the second they awoke if Pan barked. This time they thought they should be sure to see the animal at least, if not shoot it.

Volume Three—Chapter Ten.New Formosa—The Tiger from the Reeds.Pan did bark. It seemed to them that they had scarcely closed their eyes; in reality they had slept hours; and the candle had burned short. The clock of their minds being set, they were off the bed in an instant. Bevis, before his eyes were hardly open, was lighting the match of the gun; Mark had darted to the curtain at the door.There was a thick mist and he could see nothing: in a second he snatched out his pocket-knife (for they slept in their clothes), and cut the cord with which Pan was fastened up just as Bevis came with the gun. Pan raced for the aperture in the fence at the corner by the cliff—he perfectly howled with frantic rage as he ran and crushed himself through. They were now under the open shed outside the hut, and heard Pan scamper without; suddenly his howl of rage stopped, there was a second of silence, then the dog yelled with pain. The next moment he crept back through the fence and before he was through something hurled itself against the stockade behind him with such force that the fence shook.“Shoot—shoot there,” shouted Mark, as the dog crept whining towards them. Bevis lifted the gun, but paused.“If the thing jumps over the fence,” he said. He had but one shot, he could not load quickly: Mark understood.“No—no, don’t shoot. Here—here’s the bow.”Bevis took it and sent an arrow at the fence in the corner with such force that it penetrated the willow-work up to the feather. Then they both ran to the gate and looked over. All this scarcely occupied a minute.But there was nothing to see. The thick white mist concealed everything but the edge of the brambles near the stockade, and the tops of the trees farther away.“Nothing,” said Mark. “What was it?”“Shall we go out?” said Bevis.“No—not till we have seen it.”“It would be better not—we can’t tell.”“You can shoot as it jumps the fence,” said Mark, “if it comes: it will stop a minute on the top.”Unless they can clear a fence, animals pause a moment on the top before they leap down. They went back to the open shed with a feeling that it would be best to be some way inside the fence, and so have a view of the creature before it sprang. Mark picked up an axe, for he had no weapon but a second arrow which he had in his hand: the axe was the most effective weapon there was after the gun. They stood under the shed, watching the top of the stockade and waiting.Till now they had looked upon the unknown as a stealthy thief only, but when Pan recoiled they knew it must be something more.“It might jump down from the cliff,” said Bevis.While they watched the semi-circular fence in front the creature might steal round to the cliff and leap down on the roof of the hut. Mark stepped out and looked along the verge of the sand cliff. He could see up through the runners of the brambles which hung over the edge, and there was nothing there. Looking up like this he could see the pale stars above the mist. It was not a deep mist—it was like a layer on the ground, impenetrable to the eye longitudinally, but partially transparent vertically. Returning inside, Mark stooped and examined Pan, who had crept at their heels. There were no scratches on him.“He’s not hurt,” said Mark. “No teeth or claws.”“But he had a pat, didn’t he?”“I thought so—how he yelled! But you look, there’s no blood. Perhaps the thing hit him without putting its claws out.”“They slip out when they strike,” said Bevis, meaning that as wild beasts strike their claws involuntarily extend from the sheaths. He looked, Pan was not hurt; Mark felt his ribs too, and said that none were broken. There were no fragments of fur or hair about his mouth, no remnants of a struggle.“I don’t believe he fought at all,” said Bevis. “He stopped—he never went near.”“Very likely: now I remember—he stopped barking all at once; he was afraid!”“That was it: but he yelled—”“It must have been fright,” said Mark. “Nothing touched him: Pan, what was it?”Pan wagged his tail once, once only: he still crouched and kept close to them. Though patted and reassured, his spirit had been too much broken to recover rapidly. The spaniel was thoroughly cowed.“It came very near,” said Bevis. “It hit the fence while he was getting through.”“It must have missed him—perhaps it was a long jump. Did you hear anything rush off.”“No.”“No more did I.”“Soft pads,” said Bevis, “they make no noise like hoofs.”“No, that was it: and it’s sandy too.” Sand “gives” a little and deadens the sound of footsteps.“Let’s go and look again.”“So we will.”They went to the gate—Pan, they noticed did not follow—and looked over again: this time longer and more searchingly. They could see the ground for a few yards, and then the mist obscured it like fleece among brambles.“Pan’s afraid to come,” said Mark, as they went back to the shed.“The fire ought to be lit,” said Bevis. “They are afraid of fire.”“You watch,” said Mark, “and I’ll light it.”He drew on his boots, and put on his coat—for they ran out in waistcoat and trousers—then he held the gun, while Bevis did the same; then Bevis took it, and Mark hastily gathered some sticks together and lit them, often glancing over his shoulder at the fence behind, and with the axe always ready to his hand. When the flames began to rise they felt more at ease; they knew that wild beasts dislike fire, and somehow fire warms the spirit as well as the body. The morning was warm enough, they did not need a fire, but the sight of the twisted tongues as they curled spirally and broke away was restorative as the heat is to actual bodily chill. Bevis went near: even the spaniel felt it, he shook himself and seemed more cheerful.“The thing was very near when we first went out,” said Bevis. “I wish we had run to the gate directly without waiting for the gun.”“But we did not know what it was.”“No.”“And I cut Pan loose directly.”“It had only to run ten yards to be out of sight in the mist.”“And it seems so dark when you first run out.”“It’s lighter now.”“There’s no dew.”“Dry mist—it’s clearing a little.”As they stood by the fire the verge of the cliff above the roof of the hut came out clear of vapour, then they saw the trees outside the stockade rise as it were higher as the vapour shrunk through them: the stars were very faint.“Lu—lu!” said Mark, pointing to the crevice between the fence and the cliff, and urging Pan to go out again: the spaniel went a few yards towards it, then turned and came back. He could not be induced to venture alone.“Lionsdoget loose sometimes,” said Bevis thoughtfully. He had been running over every wild beast in his mind that could by any possibility approach them. Cases do occur every now and then of vans being overturned, and lions and tigers escaping.“So they do, but we have not heard any roar.”“No, and we must have come on it if it stops on the island,” said Bevis. “We have been all round so many times. Or does it go to and fro—do lions swim?”“He would have no need to,” said Mark. “I mean not after he had swum over here, he wouldn’t go away for us—he could lie in the bushes.”“Perhaps we have gone close by it without knowing,” said Bevis. “There’s the ‘wait-a-bit thorns.’”They had never been through the thicket of blackthorn.“Pan never barked though. He’s been all round the island with us.”“Perhaps he was afraid—like he was just now.”“Ah, yes, very likely.”“And we hit him too to keep him quiet, not to startle the kangaroos.”“Or the water-fowl—so we did: we may have gone close by it without knowing.”“In the ‘wait-a-bits’ or the hazel.”“Or the sedges, where it’s drier.”“Foxes lie in withy beds—why should not this?”“Of course: but I say—only think, we may have gone within reach of its paw ten times.”“While we were lying down too,” said Bevis, “in ambush It might have been in the ferns close behind.”“All the times we walked about and never took the gun,” said Mark; “or the bow and arrow, or the axe, or anything—and just think! Why we came back from the raft without even a stick in our hands.”“Yes—it was silly: and we came quietly too, to try and see it.”“Well, we just were stupid!” said Mark. “Only we never thought It could be anything big.”“But It must be.”“Of course It is: we won’t go out again without the gun, and the axe—”“And my bow to shoot again, because you can’t load a matchlock quick.”“That’s the worst of it: tigers get loose too sometimes, don’t they? and panthers more often, because there are more of them.”“Yes, one is as dangerous as the other. Panthers are worse than lions.”“More creepy.”“Cattish. They slink on you; they don’t roar first.”“Then perhaps it’s a panther.”“Perhaps. This is a very likely place, if anything has got loose; there’s the jungle on the mainland, and all the other woods, and the Chase up by Jack’s.”“Yes—plenty of cover: almost like forest.”Besides the great wood in which they had wandered there were several others in the neighbourhood, and a Chase on the hills by Jack’s, so that in case of a beast escaping from a caravan it would find extensive cover to hide in.“Only think,” said Bevis, “when we bathed!”“Ah!” Mark shuddered. While they bathed naked and unarmed, had it darted from the reeds they would have fallen instant victims, without the possibility of a struggle even.“Itishorrible,” said Bevis.“There are reeds and sedges everywhere,” said Mark. “It may be anywhere.”“It’s not safe to move.”“Especially as Pan’s afraid and won’t warn us.Ifthe thing had seen us bathing; It could not, or else—ah!”“They tear so,” said Bevis. “It’s not the wound so much as the tearing.”“Like bramble hooks,” said Mark. The curved hooks of brambles and briars inflict lacerated hurts worse than the spikes of thorns. Flesh that is torn cannot heal like that which is incised. “O! stop! panthers get in trees, don’t they? It may have been up in that oak that day!”“In the ivy: we looked!”“But the ivy is thick and we might not have seen! It might have jumped down on us.”“So it might any minute in the wood.”“Then we can’t go in the wood.”“Nor among the sedges round the shore.”“Nor the brambles, nor fern, nor hazel.”“Nowhere—except on the raft.”“Then we must take care how we come back.”“How shall we sleep!”“Ah!—think, it might have come any night!”“We left the gate open.”“O! how stupid we have been.”“It could kill Pan with one stroke.”“And Pan was not here: he used to swim off.”“Directly he was tied up, you recollect, the very first night, he barked—no, the second.”“It may have comeeverynight before.”“Right inside the stockade—under the awning.”“Into the hut while we were away—the bacon was on the shelf.”“If It could jump up like that, it could jump the fence.”“Of course; and it shows it was a cat-like creature, because it could take one thing without disturbing another. Dogs knock things down, cats don’t.”“No, panthers are a sort of big cat.”“That’s what gnawed the jack’s head.”“And why there was no mark on the ground—their pads are so soft, and don’t cut holes like hoofs.”“The kangaroos too, you remember: very often they wouldn’t come out. Something was about.”“Of course. How could we have been so stupid as not to see this before!”“Why, we never suspected.”“But we ought to have suspected. You thought you saw something move in the sedges on Sunday.”“So I did—it was this thing: it must have been.”“Then it swims off and comes back.”“Then if we hunt all over the island and don’t find It—we’re no safer, because it may come off to us any time.”“Any time.”“Whatshallwe do?”“Can’t go home,” said Bevis.“Can’t go home,” repeated Mark.They could not desert their island: it would have been so like running away too, and they had so often talked of Africa and shooting big game. Then to run away when in its presence would have lowered them in their own estimation.“Can’t,” said Bevis again.“Can’t,” again repeated Mark. Theycouldnot go—they must face It, whatever it was.“We shall have to look before every step,” said Bevis. “Up in the trees—through the bushes—and the reeds.”“We must not go in the reeds much: you can’t tell there—”“No, not much. We must watch at night. First one, and then the other.”“And keep the fire burning. There ought to be a fence along the top of the cliff.”“Yes—that’s very awkward: you can’t put stakes in hard sand like that.”“We must drive in some—and cut them sharp at the top.”“What a pity the stockade is not sharp at the top!—Nails, that’s it: we must drive in long nails and file the tops off!”“And put some stakes with nails along the cliff—the thing could not get in quite so quick.”“The gate is not very strong: we must barricade it.”“Wish we could lock the door!”“I should think so!”Now they realised what is forgotten in the routine of civilised life—the security of doors and bolts. Their curtain was no defence.“Barricade the door.”“Yes, but not too close, else we can’t shoot—we should be trapped.”“I see! Put the barricade round a little way in front. Why not have two fires, one each side!”“Capital. We will fortify the place! Loop-holes. The weak spot will be the edge of the cliff up there. If we put a fire there people may see it—savages—and find us.”“That won’t do.”“No: we must fortify the edge somehow, stakes with nails for one thing. Perhaps a train of gunpowder!”“Ah, yes. Lucky we’ve got plenty to eat. It won’t be nice not to have the gun loaded. I mean while loading the thing might come.”“We’ve got plenty to eat.”“And I wanted a lot of shooting to-day,” said Mark.“All that’s spoiled.”“Quite spoiled.”Yesterday they had become intoxicated with the savage joy of killing, the savage’s cruel but wild and abandoned and unutterable joy: they had planned slaughter for to-day. To-day they were themselves environed with deadly peril. This is the opposite side of wild life: the forest takes its revenge by filling the mind with ceaseless anxiety.“The sun!” said Bevis with pleasure as the rays fell aslant into the open shed. The sun had been above the horizon some little while but had been concealed by the clouds and thick vapour. Now that the full bright light of day was come there seemed no need of such intense watchfulness. It was hardly likely that they would be attacked in their stockade in broad daylight; the boldest beasts of prey would not do that unless driven very hard by hunger.But when they began to prepare the breakfast, there was no water to fill the kettle: Mark generally went down to the shore for water every morning. Although they had no formal arrangement, in practice it had gradually come about that one did one thing and one another: Mark got the water, Bevis cut up wood for the fire. Mark had usually gone with the zinc bucket, whistling down to the strand merry enough. Now he took up the bucket, but hesitated.“I’ll come,” said Bevis. “One can’t go alone anywhere now.”“The other must always have the matchlock ready.”“Always,” said Bevis, “and keep a sharp lookout all round while one does the things. Why the gun is only loaded with shot, now I remember!”“No more it is: how lucky It did not jump over! Shot would have been of no use.”“I’ll shoot it off,” said Bevis—“our ramrod won’t draw a charge—and load again.”“Yes, do.”Bevis fired the charge in the air, and they heard the pellets presently falling like hail among the trees outside. Then he loaded again with ball, blew the match, and looked to the priming; Mark took the axe in one hand and the bucket in the other, and they unlocked the gate.“We ought to be able to lock it behind us,” he said.“We’ll put in another staple presently,” said Bevis. “Step carefully to see if there are any marks on the ground.”They examined the surface attentively, but could distinguish no footprints: then they went to the fence where the creature had sprung against it. The arrow projected, and near it, on close investigation, they saw that a piece of the bark of the interwoven willow had been torn off as if by a claw. But look as intently as they would they could not trace it further on such ground, the thin grass and sand would not take an imprint.“Pads,” said Bevis, “else there would have been spoor.”“Tiger, or panther then: we must take care,” said Mark. “Pan’s all right now, look.”Pan trotted on before them along the well-known path to the shore, swinging his tail and unconcerned. As they walked they kept a watch in every direction, up in the trees, behind the bushes, where the surface was hollow, and avoided the fern. When Mark had dipped, they returned in the same manner, walking slowly and constantly on the alert.

Pan did bark. It seemed to them that they had scarcely closed their eyes; in reality they had slept hours; and the candle had burned short. The clock of their minds being set, they were off the bed in an instant. Bevis, before his eyes were hardly open, was lighting the match of the gun; Mark had darted to the curtain at the door.

There was a thick mist and he could see nothing: in a second he snatched out his pocket-knife (for they slept in their clothes), and cut the cord with which Pan was fastened up just as Bevis came with the gun. Pan raced for the aperture in the fence at the corner by the cliff—he perfectly howled with frantic rage as he ran and crushed himself through. They were now under the open shed outside the hut, and heard Pan scamper without; suddenly his howl of rage stopped, there was a second of silence, then the dog yelled with pain. The next moment he crept back through the fence and before he was through something hurled itself against the stockade behind him with such force that the fence shook.

“Shoot—shoot there,” shouted Mark, as the dog crept whining towards them. Bevis lifted the gun, but paused.

“If the thing jumps over the fence,” he said. He had but one shot, he could not load quickly: Mark understood.

“No—no, don’t shoot. Here—here’s the bow.”

Bevis took it and sent an arrow at the fence in the corner with such force that it penetrated the willow-work up to the feather. Then they both ran to the gate and looked over. All this scarcely occupied a minute.

But there was nothing to see. The thick white mist concealed everything but the edge of the brambles near the stockade, and the tops of the trees farther away.

“Nothing,” said Mark. “What was it?”

“Shall we go out?” said Bevis.

“No—not till we have seen it.”

“It would be better not—we can’t tell.”

“You can shoot as it jumps the fence,” said Mark, “if it comes: it will stop a minute on the top.”

Unless they can clear a fence, animals pause a moment on the top before they leap down. They went back to the open shed with a feeling that it would be best to be some way inside the fence, and so have a view of the creature before it sprang. Mark picked up an axe, for he had no weapon but a second arrow which he had in his hand: the axe was the most effective weapon there was after the gun. They stood under the shed, watching the top of the stockade and waiting.

Till now they had looked upon the unknown as a stealthy thief only, but when Pan recoiled they knew it must be something more.

“It might jump down from the cliff,” said Bevis.

While they watched the semi-circular fence in front the creature might steal round to the cliff and leap down on the roof of the hut. Mark stepped out and looked along the verge of the sand cliff. He could see up through the runners of the brambles which hung over the edge, and there was nothing there. Looking up like this he could see the pale stars above the mist. It was not a deep mist—it was like a layer on the ground, impenetrable to the eye longitudinally, but partially transparent vertically. Returning inside, Mark stooped and examined Pan, who had crept at their heels. There were no scratches on him.

“He’s not hurt,” said Mark. “No teeth or claws.”

“But he had a pat, didn’t he?”

“I thought so—how he yelled! But you look, there’s no blood. Perhaps the thing hit him without putting its claws out.”

“They slip out when they strike,” said Bevis, meaning that as wild beasts strike their claws involuntarily extend from the sheaths. He looked, Pan was not hurt; Mark felt his ribs too, and said that none were broken. There were no fragments of fur or hair about his mouth, no remnants of a struggle.

“I don’t believe he fought at all,” said Bevis. “He stopped—he never went near.”

“Very likely: now I remember—he stopped barking all at once; he was afraid!”

“That was it: but he yelled—”

“It must have been fright,” said Mark. “Nothing touched him: Pan, what was it?”

Pan wagged his tail once, once only: he still crouched and kept close to them. Though patted and reassured, his spirit had been too much broken to recover rapidly. The spaniel was thoroughly cowed.

“It came very near,” said Bevis. “It hit the fence while he was getting through.”

“It must have missed him—perhaps it was a long jump. Did you hear anything rush off.”

“No.”

“No more did I.”

“Soft pads,” said Bevis, “they make no noise like hoofs.”

“No, that was it: and it’s sandy too.” Sand “gives” a little and deadens the sound of footsteps.

“Let’s go and look again.”

“So we will.”

They went to the gate—Pan, they noticed did not follow—and looked over again: this time longer and more searchingly. They could see the ground for a few yards, and then the mist obscured it like fleece among brambles.

“Pan’s afraid to come,” said Mark, as they went back to the shed.

“The fire ought to be lit,” said Bevis. “They are afraid of fire.”

“You watch,” said Mark, “and I’ll light it.”

He drew on his boots, and put on his coat—for they ran out in waistcoat and trousers—then he held the gun, while Bevis did the same; then Bevis took it, and Mark hastily gathered some sticks together and lit them, often glancing over his shoulder at the fence behind, and with the axe always ready to his hand. When the flames began to rise they felt more at ease; they knew that wild beasts dislike fire, and somehow fire warms the spirit as well as the body. The morning was warm enough, they did not need a fire, but the sight of the twisted tongues as they curled spirally and broke away was restorative as the heat is to actual bodily chill. Bevis went near: even the spaniel felt it, he shook himself and seemed more cheerful.

“The thing was very near when we first went out,” said Bevis. “I wish we had run to the gate directly without waiting for the gun.”

“But we did not know what it was.”

“No.”

“And I cut Pan loose directly.”

“It had only to run ten yards to be out of sight in the mist.”

“And it seems so dark when you first run out.”

“It’s lighter now.”

“There’s no dew.”

“Dry mist—it’s clearing a little.”

As they stood by the fire the verge of the cliff above the roof of the hut came out clear of vapour, then they saw the trees outside the stockade rise as it were higher as the vapour shrunk through them: the stars were very faint.

“Lu—lu!” said Mark, pointing to the crevice between the fence and the cliff, and urging Pan to go out again: the spaniel went a few yards towards it, then turned and came back. He could not be induced to venture alone.

“Lionsdoget loose sometimes,” said Bevis thoughtfully. He had been running over every wild beast in his mind that could by any possibility approach them. Cases do occur every now and then of vans being overturned, and lions and tigers escaping.

“So they do, but we have not heard any roar.”

“No, and we must have come on it if it stops on the island,” said Bevis. “We have been all round so many times. Or does it go to and fro—do lions swim?”

“He would have no need to,” said Mark. “I mean not after he had swum over here, he wouldn’t go away for us—he could lie in the bushes.”

“Perhaps we have gone close by it without knowing,” said Bevis. “There’s the ‘wait-a-bit thorns.’”

They had never been through the thicket of blackthorn.

“Pan never barked though. He’s been all round the island with us.”

“Perhaps he was afraid—like he was just now.”

“Ah, yes, very likely.”

“And we hit him too to keep him quiet, not to startle the kangaroos.”

“Or the water-fowl—so we did: we may have gone close by it without knowing.”

“In the ‘wait-a-bits’ or the hazel.”

“Or the sedges, where it’s drier.”

“Foxes lie in withy beds—why should not this?”

“Of course: but I say—only think, we may have gone within reach of its paw ten times.”

“While we were lying down too,” said Bevis, “in ambush It might have been in the ferns close behind.”

“All the times we walked about and never took the gun,” said Mark; “or the bow and arrow, or the axe, or anything—and just think! Why we came back from the raft without even a stick in our hands.”

“Yes—it was silly: and we came quietly too, to try and see it.”

“Well, we just were stupid!” said Mark. “Only we never thought It could be anything big.”

“But It must be.”

“Of course It is: we won’t go out again without the gun, and the axe—”

“And my bow to shoot again, because you can’t load a matchlock quick.”

“That’s the worst of it: tigers get loose too sometimes, don’t they? and panthers more often, because there are more of them.”

“Yes, one is as dangerous as the other. Panthers are worse than lions.”

“More creepy.”

“Cattish. They slink on you; they don’t roar first.”

“Then perhaps it’s a panther.”

“Perhaps. This is a very likely place, if anything has got loose; there’s the jungle on the mainland, and all the other woods, and the Chase up by Jack’s.”

“Yes—plenty of cover: almost like forest.”

Besides the great wood in which they had wandered there were several others in the neighbourhood, and a Chase on the hills by Jack’s, so that in case of a beast escaping from a caravan it would find extensive cover to hide in.

“Only think,” said Bevis, “when we bathed!”

“Ah!” Mark shuddered. While they bathed naked and unarmed, had it darted from the reeds they would have fallen instant victims, without the possibility of a struggle even.

“Itishorrible,” said Bevis.

“There are reeds and sedges everywhere,” said Mark. “It may be anywhere.”

“It’s not safe to move.”

“Especially as Pan’s afraid and won’t warn us.Ifthe thing had seen us bathing; It could not, or else—ah!”

“They tear so,” said Bevis. “It’s not the wound so much as the tearing.”

“Like bramble hooks,” said Mark. The curved hooks of brambles and briars inflict lacerated hurts worse than the spikes of thorns. Flesh that is torn cannot heal like that which is incised. “O! stop! panthers get in trees, don’t they? It may have been up in that oak that day!”

“In the ivy: we looked!”

“But the ivy is thick and we might not have seen! It might have jumped down on us.”

“So it might any minute in the wood.”

“Then we can’t go in the wood.”

“Nor among the sedges round the shore.”

“Nor the brambles, nor fern, nor hazel.”

“Nowhere—except on the raft.”

“Then we must take care how we come back.”

“How shall we sleep!”

“Ah!—think, it might have come any night!”

“We left the gate open.”

“O! how stupid we have been.”

“It could kill Pan with one stroke.”

“And Pan was not here: he used to swim off.”

“Directly he was tied up, you recollect, the very first night, he barked—no, the second.”

“It may have comeeverynight before.”

“Right inside the stockade—under the awning.”

“Into the hut while we were away—the bacon was on the shelf.”

“If It could jump up like that, it could jump the fence.”

“Of course; and it shows it was a cat-like creature, because it could take one thing without disturbing another. Dogs knock things down, cats don’t.”

“No, panthers are a sort of big cat.”

“That’s what gnawed the jack’s head.”

“And why there was no mark on the ground—their pads are so soft, and don’t cut holes like hoofs.”

“The kangaroos too, you remember: very often they wouldn’t come out. Something was about.”

“Of course. How could we have been so stupid as not to see this before!”

“Why, we never suspected.”

“But we ought to have suspected. You thought you saw something move in the sedges on Sunday.”

“So I did—it was this thing: it must have been.”

“Then it swims off and comes back.”

“Then if we hunt all over the island and don’t find It—we’re no safer, because it may come off to us any time.”

“Any time.”

“Whatshallwe do?”

“Can’t go home,” said Bevis.

“Can’t go home,” repeated Mark.

They could not desert their island: it would have been so like running away too, and they had so often talked of Africa and shooting big game. Then to run away when in its presence would have lowered them in their own estimation.

“Can’t,” said Bevis again.

“Can’t,” again repeated Mark. Theycouldnot go—they must face It, whatever it was.

“We shall have to look before every step,” said Bevis. “Up in the trees—through the bushes—and the reeds.”

“We must not go in the reeds much: you can’t tell there—”

“No, not much. We must watch at night. First one, and then the other.”

“And keep the fire burning. There ought to be a fence along the top of the cliff.”

“Yes—that’s very awkward: you can’t put stakes in hard sand like that.”

“We must drive in some—and cut them sharp at the top.”

“What a pity the stockade is not sharp at the top!—Nails, that’s it: we must drive in long nails and file the tops off!”

“And put some stakes with nails along the cliff—the thing could not get in quite so quick.”

“The gate is not very strong: we must barricade it.”

“Wish we could lock the door!”

“I should think so!”

Now they realised what is forgotten in the routine of civilised life—the security of doors and bolts. Their curtain was no defence.

“Barricade the door.”

“Yes, but not too close, else we can’t shoot—we should be trapped.”

“I see! Put the barricade round a little way in front. Why not have two fires, one each side!”

“Capital. We will fortify the place! Loop-holes. The weak spot will be the edge of the cliff up there. If we put a fire there people may see it—savages—and find us.”

“That won’t do.”

“No: we must fortify the edge somehow, stakes with nails for one thing. Perhaps a train of gunpowder!”

“Ah, yes. Lucky we’ve got plenty to eat. It won’t be nice not to have the gun loaded. I mean while loading the thing might come.”

“We’ve got plenty to eat.”

“And I wanted a lot of shooting to-day,” said Mark.

“All that’s spoiled.”

“Quite spoiled.”

Yesterday they had become intoxicated with the savage joy of killing, the savage’s cruel but wild and abandoned and unutterable joy: they had planned slaughter for to-day. To-day they were themselves environed with deadly peril. This is the opposite side of wild life: the forest takes its revenge by filling the mind with ceaseless anxiety.

“The sun!” said Bevis with pleasure as the rays fell aslant into the open shed. The sun had been above the horizon some little while but had been concealed by the clouds and thick vapour. Now that the full bright light of day was come there seemed no need of such intense watchfulness. It was hardly likely that they would be attacked in their stockade in broad daylight; the boldest beasts of prey would not do that unless driven very hard by hunger.

But when they began to prepare the breakfast, there was no water to fill the kettle: Mark generally went down to the shore for water every morning. Although they had no formal arrangement, in practice it had gradually come about that one did one thing and one another: Mark got the water, Bevis cut up wood for the fire. Mark had usually gone with the zinc bucket, whistling down to the strand merry enough. Now he took up the bucket, but hesitated.

“I’ll come,” said Bevis. “One can’t go alone anywhere now.”

“The other must always have the matchlock ready.”

“Always,” said Bevis, “and keep a sharp lookout all round while one does the things. Why the gun is only loaded with shot, now I remember!”

“No more it is: how lucky It did not jump over! Shot would have been of no use.”

“I’ll shoot it off,” said Bevis—“our ramrod won’t draw a charge—and load again.”

“Yes, do.”

Bevis fired the charge in the air, and they heard the pellets presently falling like hail among the trees outside. Then he loaded again with ball, blew the match, and looked to the priming; Mark took the axe in one hand and the bucket in the other, and they unlocked the gate.

“We ought to be able to lock it behind us,” he said.

“We’ll put in another staple presently,” said Bevis. “Step carefully to see if there are any marks on the ground.”

They examined the surface attentively, but could distinguish no footprints: then they went to the fence where the creature had sprung against it. The arrow projected, and near it, on close investigation, they saw that a piece of the bark of the interwoven willow had been torn off as if by a claw. But look as intently as they would they could not trace it further on such ground, the thin grass and sand would not take an imprint.

“Pads,” said Bevis, “else there would have been spoor.”

“Tiger, or panther then: we must take care,” said Mark. “Pan’s all right now, look.”

Pan trotted on before them along the well-known path to the shore, swinging his tail and unconcerned. As they walked they kept a watch in every direction, up in the trees, behind the bushes, where the surface was hollow, and avoided the fern. When Mark had dipped, they returned in the same manner, walking slowly and constantly on the alert.

Volume Three—Chapter Eleven.New Formosa—The Fortification.Entering the stockade, they locked the gate behind them, a thing they had never done before in daylight, that they might not be surprised. After breakfast Bevis began to file off the heads of the nails, which was slow work, and when he had done five or six, he thought it would be handier to drive them into the posts first, and file them off afterwards, as they could both work then instead of only one. They had but one vice to hold the nail and only one could use it at a time. So the nails, the longest and largest they had, were driven into the stakes of the stockade about a foot apart—as near as the stakes stood to each other—and thus, not without much weariness of wrist, for filing is tedious, they cut off the heads and sharpened them.Had these spikes been nearer together it would have been better, but that they could not manage; the willow-work split if a large nail was driven into it. Next they got together materials for barricading the door of the hut, or rather the open shed in front of it. To cut these they had to go outside, and Mark watched with the matchlock while Bevis chopped.Poles were nailed across the open sides from upright to upright, not more than six inches asunder right up to the beam on two sides. This allowed plenty of space to shoot through, but nothing of any size could spring in. On the third, the poles were nailed across up to three feet high, and the rest prepared and left ready to be lashed in position with cords the last thing at night.When these were put up there would be a complete cage from within which they could fire or shoot arrows, and be safe from the spring of the beast. Lastly, they went up on the cliff to see what could be done there. The sand was very hard, so that to drive in stakes the whole length of the cliff edge would have taken a day, if not two days.They decided to put up some just above the hut so as to prevent the creature leaping on to the roof, and perhaps tearing a way through it. Bevis held the matchlock this time and watched while Mark hewed out the stakes, taking the labour and the watching in turn. With much trouble, these were driven home and sharpened nails put at the top, so that the beast approaching from behind would have to leap over these before descending the perpendicular cliff on to the hut. The fortification was now complete, and they sat down to think if there was anything else.“One thing,” said Mark, “we will take care and fill the kettle and the bucket with water this evening before we go to sleep. Suppose the thing came and stopped just outside and wouldn’t go away?”“Besieged us—yes, that would be awkward; we will fill all the pots and things with water, and get in plenty of wood for the fires. How uncomfortable it is without our bath!”“I feel horrid.”“Imusthave a bath,” said Bevis. “Iwillhave a swim.”“We can watch in turn, but if the panther sees any one stripped it’s more likely to try and seize him.”“Yes, that’s true: I know! Suppose we go out on the raft!”“Right away.”“Out to Pearl Island and swim there: there are no sedges there.”“Hurrah! If he comes we should see him a long way first.”“Of course, and keep the gun ready.”“Come on.”“First drive in the staple to lock the gate outside.”This was done, and then they went down to the raft, moving cautiously and examining every likely place for the beast to lie in ambush before passing. The raft was poled round and out to Pearl Island, on which no sedges grew, nor were there any within seventy or eighty yards. Nothing could approach without being seen.Yet, when they stood on the brim ready to go into the water the sense of defencelessness was almost overpowering. The gun was at hand, and the match burning, the axe could be snatched up in a moment, the bow was strung and the sharp arrows by it.But without their clothes they felt defenceless. The human skin offers no resistance to thorn or claw or tusk. There is nothing between us and the enemy, no armour of hide, his tusk can go straight to our lives at once. Standing on the brink they felt the heat of the sun on the skin: if it could not bear even the sunbeams, how could so sensitive and delicate a covering endure the tiger’s claw?“It won’t do,” said Mark. “No.”“Suppose you watch while I swim, and then you swim and I watch?”“That will be better.”Bevis stopped on board the raft, threw his coat loosely round his shoulders,—for the sun, if he kept still, would otherwise redden and blister, and cause the skin to peel,—and then took up the matchlock. So soon as Mark saw he had the gun ready, he ran in, for it was too shallow to plunge, and then swam round the raft keeping close to it. When he had had his bath, he threw the towel round his shoulders to protect himself from the heat as Bevis had with his coat and took the gun. Bevis had his swim, and then they dressed.Poling the raft back to the island, they observed the same precautions in going through the trees to the hut. Once Mark fancied there was something in the fern, but Pan innocently ran there before they could call to him, and as nothing moved they went to the spot, and found that two fronds had turned yellow and looked at a distance a little like the tawny coat of an animal. Except under excitement and not in a state of terrorism they would have recognised the yellow fern in an instant; but when intent on one subject the mind is ready to construe everything as relating to it, and disallows the plain evidence of the senses. Even “seeing” is hardly “believing.”They reached the hut without anything happening, and as they could not now wander about the island in the careless way they had hitherto done, and had nothing else to do, they cooked two of the moorhens. The gate in the stockade was locked, and the gun kept constantly at hand. A good deal of match was consumed, as it had to be always burning, else they could not shoot quickly. Soon the sense of confinement became irksome: they could not go outside without arming to the teeth, and to walk up and down so circumscribed a space was monotonous, indeed they could not do it after such freedom.“Can’t move,” said Mark.“Chained up like dogs.”“I hate it.”“Hate it! I should think so!”“But we can’t go out.”“No.”They had to endure it: they could not even go up to see the time by the dial without one accompanying the other with the gun as guard. It was late when they had finished dinner, and went up to watch for the signal. On the cliff they felt more secure, as nothing could approach in front, and behind the slope was partly open, still one had always to keep watch even there. Mark sat facing the slope with the gun: Bevis faced the New Sea with the telescope. The sky had clouded over and there was more wind, in puffs, from the south-east. Charlie soon came, waved the handkerchief, and went away.“I wish he was here,” said Bevis.“So do I now,” said Mark, “and Val and Cecil—”“And Ted.”“Yes. But how could we know that there was a panther here?”“But it serves us right for not asking them,” said Bevis. “It was selfish of us.”“Suppose we go ashore and send Loo to tell Charlie and Val—”“Last night,” said Bevis, interrupting, “why—while I was out in the wilderness and you were in the thicket the thing might have had either of us.”“No one watching.”“If one was attacked, no one near to help.”“No.”“But we could both go together, and tell Loo, and get Charlie and Val and Cecil and Ted. If we all had guns now!”“Five or six of us!”“Perhaps if we told the people at home, the governor would let me have one of his: then we could load and shoot quick!”“And the Jolly Old Moke would let me have his! and if Val could get another and Ted, we could hunt the island and shoot the creature.”Mark was as eager now for company as he had been before that no one should enjoy the island with them.“We could bring them all off on the raft,” said Bevis. “It would carry four, I think.”“Twice would do it then. Let’s tell them! Let’s see Loo, and send her! Wouldn’t they come as quick as lightning!”“They would be wild to help to shoot it.”“Just to have the chance.”“Yes; but I say! what stupes we should be!” said Bevis.“Why? How?”“After we have had all the danger and trouble, to let them come in and have the shooting and the hunt and the skin.”“Triumph and spoils!”“Striped skin.”“Or spotted.”“Or tawny mane—we don’t know which. Just think, to let them have it!”“No,” said Mark. “That we won’t: we must have it.”“It’sourtiger,” said Bevis.“All ours.”“Every bit.”“The claws make things, don’t they?” said Mark: he meant the reverse, that things are made of tiger’s claws as trophies.“Yes, and the teeth.”“And the skin—beautiful!”“Splendid!”“Rugs.”“Hurrah!”“We’ll have him!”“Kill him!”“Yow—wow!”Pan caught their altered mood and leaped on them, barking joyously. They went down into the stockade and considered if there was anything they could do to add to their defences, and at the same time increase the chances of shooting the tiger.“Perhaps he won’t spring over,” said Mark; “suppose we leave the gate open? else we shan’t get a shot at him.”“I want a shot at him while he’s on the fence,” said Bevis, “balanced on the top, you know, like Pan sometimes at home.” In leaping a fence or gate too high for him they had often laughed at the spaniel swaying on the edge and not able to get his balance to leap down without falling headlong. “I know what we will do,” he continued, “we’ll put out some meat to tempt him.”“Bait.”“Hang up the other birds—and my hare—no—shall I? He’s such a beauty. Yes, I will. I’ll put the hare out too. Hares are game; he’s sure to jump over for the hare.”“Drive in a stake half-way,” said Mark, meaning half-way between the cage and the stockade. “Let’s do it now.”There were several pieces of poles lying about, and the stake was soon up. The birds and the hare were to be strung to it to tempt the beast to leap into the enclosure. The next point was at what part should they aim? At the head, the shoulders, or where? as the most fatal.The head was the best, but then in the hurry and excitement they might miss it, and he might not turn his shoulder, so they decided that whoever was on the watch at the moment should aim at the body of the creature so as to be certain to plant a bullet in it. If he was once hit, his rage and desire of revenge would prevent him from going away; he would attack the cage, and while he was venting his rage on the bars there would be time to load and fire again.“And put the muzzle close to his head the second time,” said Mark.“Certain to kill then.”They sat down inside the cage and imagined the position the beast would be in when it approached them. Mark was to load the matchlock for the second shot in any case, while Bevis sent arrow after arrow into the creature. Pan was to be tied up with a short cord, else perhaps the tiger or panther would insert a paw and kill him with a single pat.“But it’s so long to wait,” said Mark. “He won’t come till the middle of the night.”“He’s been in the day when we were out,” said Bevis. “Suppose we go up on the cliff, leave the gate open, and if he comes shoot down at him?”“Come on.”They went up on the cliff, just behind the spiked stakes, taking with them the gun, the axe, and bow and arrows. If the beast entered the enclosure they could get a capital shot down at him, nor could he leap up, he would have to go some distance round to get at them, and meantime the gun could be reloaded. They waited, nothing entered the stockade but a robin.“This is very slow,” said Mark.“Very,” said Bevis. “What’s the use of waiting? Suppose we go and hunt him up.”“In the wood?”“Everywhere—sedges and fern—everywhere.”“Hurrah!”Up they jumped full of delight at the thought of freedom again. It was so great a relief to move about that they ignored the danger. Anything was better than being forced to stay still.“If he’s on the island we’ll find him.”“Leave the gate open, that we may run in quick.”“Perhaps he’ll go in while we’re away, then we can just slip up on the cliff, and fire down—”“Jolly!”“Look very sharp.”“Blow the match.”They entered among the trees, following the path which led round the island. Bevis carried the matchlock, Mark the bow and arrows and axe, and it was arranged that the moment Bevis had fired he was to pass the gun to Mark, and take his bow. While he shot arrows, Mark was to load and shoot as quick as he could. The axe was to be thrown down on the ground, so that either could snatch it up if necessary. All they regretted was that they had not got proper hunting-knives.First they went down to the raft moored to the alder bough as usual, then on to the projecting point where Mark once fished; on again to where the willow-tree lay overthrown in the water, and up to the firs under which they had reclined. Then they went to the shore at the uttermost southern extremity and sent Pan into the sedges. He drove out a moorhen, but they did not shoot at it now, not daring to do so lest the beast should attack them before they could load again.Coming up the western side of the island, they once thought they saw something in the bushes, but found it to be the trunk of a fallen tree. In going inland to Kangaroo Hill they moved more slowly as the wood was thicker, and intent on the slightest indication, the sudden motion of a squirrel climbing a beech startled them. From the top of the green knoll they looked all round, and thus examined the glade. There was not the slightest sign. The feathers of a wood-pigeon were scattered on the grass in one place, where a hawk had struck it down. This had happened since they were last at the glade. It was probably one of the pigeons that roosted in the ivy-grown oak.Crossing to the oak, they flung sticks up into the ivy; there was no roar in response. While here they remembered the wires, and looked at them, but there was nothing caught, which they considered a proof that the rabbits were afraid to venture far from their burries while the tiger, or whatever beast it was, was prowling about at night.Returning to the shore, they recollected a large bed of sedges and reed-grass a little way back, and going there Bevis shot an arrow into it. The arrow slipped through the reed-grass with a slight rustle till it was lost. The spaniel ran in and they heard him plunging about. There was nothing in the reed-grass.Lastly they went to the thicket of “wait-a-bit” blackthorn. Pan did go in, and that was as much, he soon came out, he did not like the blackthorn. But by throwing stones and fragments of dead branches up in the air so that they should descend into the midst of the thicket they satisfied themselves that there was nothing in it. It was necessary to cast the stones and sticks up into the air because they would not penetrate if thrown horizontally.The circuit of the island was completed, and they now crept up quietly to the verge of the cliff behind the spiked stakes. The stockade was exactly as they had left it; Pan looked over the edge of the cliff into it, and did not even sniff. They went down and rested a few minutes.There never was greater temerity than this searching the island for the tiger. Neither the bullet nor their arrows would have stayed the advance of that terrible beast for a moment. Inside their stockade and cage they might withstand him; in the open he would have swept them down just as a lady’s sleeve might sweep down the chessmen on the board. Thus in his native haunts he overthrows a crowd of spear-armed savages.“He can’t be on the island,” said Mark.“It’s curious we did not see any sign,” said Bevis. “There are no marks or footprints anywhere.”“If there was some clay now—wet clay,” said Mark, “but it’s all sandy; his claws would show in clay like Pan’s.”“Like a crab.” Pan’s footprint in moist clay was somewhat crab-shaped.“Is there no place where he would leave a mark?”“Just at the edge of the water the moorhens leave footprints.”“That would be the place, only we can’t look very close to the edge everywhere.”“There’s the raft; we could on the raft.”“Shall we go on the raft?”“Suppose we go all round the island?” said Bevis, “on the raft.”“We never have been,” said Mark. “Not close to the shore.”“No; let us pole round close to the shore—all round, and see if we can find any spoor in the shallows.”They went to the raft and embarked. As they started a crimson glow shot along under the clouds, the sun was sinking and the sky beamed. The wind had risen and the wavelets came splash, splash against the edge of the raft. Some of the yellow leaves of the willows floated along and fell on the deck. They poled slowly and constantly grounded or struck the shore, so that it occupied some time to get round, especially as at the southern extremity it was so shallow they were obliged to go a long way out.In about an hour they reached the thick bed of reed-grass into which Bevis had shot his arrow, and as the raft slowly glided by Mark suddenly exclaimed, “There it is!”There it was—a path through the reed-grass down to the water’s edge—the trail of some creature. Bevis stuck his pole into the ground to check the onward movement of the raft. The impetus of the heavy vessel was so great though moving slowly that it required all his strength to stay it. Mark came with his pole, and together they pushed the raft back, and it ran right up into the reed-grass and grounded. Pan instantly leapt off into the path, and ran along it wagging his tail; he had the scent, though it seemed faint as he did not give tongue. They stood at the bulwark of the raft and looked at the trail.

Entering the stockade, they locked the gate behind them, a thing they had never done before in daylight, that they might not be surprised. After breakfast Bevis began to file off the heads of the nails, which was slow work, and when he had done five or six, he thought it would be handier to drive them into the posts first, and file them off afterwards, as they could both work then instead of only one. They had but one vice to hold the nail and only one could use it at a time. So the nails, the longest and largest they had, were driven into the stakes of the stockade about a foot apart—as near as the stakes stood to each other—and thus, not without much weariness of wrist, for filing is tedious, they cut off the heads and sharpened them.

Had these spikes been nearer together it would have been better, but that they could not manage; the willow-work split if a large nail was driven into it. Next they got together materials for barricading the door of the hut, or rather the open shed in front of it. To cut these they had to go outside, and Mark watched with the matchlock while Bevis chopped.

Poles were nailed across the open sides from upright to upright, not more than six inches asunder right up to the beam on two sides. This allowed plenty of space to shoot through, but nothing of any size could spring in. On the third, the poles were nailed across up to three feet high, and the rest prepared and left ready to be lashed in position with cords the last thing at night.

When these were put up there would be a complete cage from within which they could fire or shoot arrows, and be safe from the spring of the beast. Lastly, they went up on the cliff to see what could be done there. The sand was very hard, so that to drive in stakes the whole length of the cliff edge would have taken a day, if not two days.

They decided to put up some just above the hut so as to prevent the creature leaping on to the roof, and perhaps tearing a way through it. Bevis held the matchlock this time and watched while Mark hewed out the stakes, taking the labour and the watching in turn. With much trouble, these were driven home and sharpened nails put at the top, so that the beast approaching from behind would have to leap over these before descending the perpendicular cliff on to the hut. The fortification was now complete, and they sat down to think if there was anything else.

“One thing,” said Mark, “we will take care and fill the kettle and the bucket with water this evening before we go to sleep. Suppose the thing came and stopped just outside and wouldn’t go away?”

“Besieged us—yes, that would be awkward; we will fill all the pots and things with water, and get in plenty of wood for the fires. How uncomfortable it is without our bath!”

“I feel horrid.”

“Imusthave a bath,” said Bevis. “Iwillhave a swim.”

“We can watch in turn, but if the panther sees any one stripped it’s more likely to try and seize him.”

“Yes, that’s true: I know! Suppose we go out on the raft!”

“Right away.”

“Out to Pearl Island and swim there: there are no sedges there.”

“Hurrah! If he comes we should see him a long way first.”

“Of course, and keep the gun ready.”

“Come on.”

“First drive in the staple to lock the gate outside.”

This was done, and then they went down to the raft, moving cautiously and examining every likely place for the beast to lie in ambush before passing. The raft was poled round and out to Pearl Island, on which no sedges grew, nor were there any within seventy or eighty yards. Nothing could approach without being seen.

Yet, when they stood on the brim ready to go into the water the sense of defencelessness was almost overpowering. The gun was at hand, and the match burning, the axe could be snatched up in a moment, the bow was strung and the sharp arrows by it.

But without their clothes they felt defenceless. The human skin offers no resistance to thorn or claw or tusk. There is nothing between us and the enemy, no armour of hide, his tusk can go straight to our lives at once. Standing on the brink they felt the heat of the sun on the skin: if it could not bear even the sunbeams, how could so sensitive and delicate a covering endure the tiger’s claw?

“It won’t do,” said Mark. “No.”

“Suppose you watch while I swim, and then you swim and I watch?”

“That will be better.”

Bevis stopped on board the raft, threw his coat loosely round his shoulders,—for the sun, if he kept still, would otherwise redden and blister, and cause the skin to peel,—and then took up the matchlock. So soon as Mark saw he had the gun ready, he ran in, for it was too shallow to plunge, and then swam round the raft keeping close to it. When he had had his bath, he threw the towel round his shoulders to protect himself from the heat as Bevis had with his coat and took the gun. Bevis had his swim, and then they dressed.

Poling the raft back to the island, they observed the same precautions in going through the trees to the hut. Once Mark fancied there was something in the fern, but Pan innocently ran there before they could call to him, and as nothing moved they went to the spot, and found that two fronds had turned yellow and looked at a distance a little like the tawny coat of an animal. Except under excitement and not in a state of terrorism they would have recognised the yellow fern in an instant; but when intent on one subject the mind is ready to construe everything as relating to it, and disallows the plain evidence of the senses. Even “seeing” is hardly “believing.”

They reached the hut without anything happening, and as they could not now wander about the island in the careless way they had hitherto done, and had nothing else to do, they cooked two of the moorhens. The gate in the stockade was locked, and the gun kept constantly at hand. A good deal of match was consumed, as it had to be always burning, else they could not shoot quickly. Soon the sense of confinement became irksome: they could not go outside without arming to the teeth, and to walk up and down so circumscribed a space was monotonous, indeed they could not do it after such freedom.

“Can’t move,” said Mark.

“Chained up like dogs.”

“I hate it.”

“Hate it! I should think so!”

“But we can’t go out.”

“No.”

They had to endure it: they could not even go up to see the time by the dial without one accompanying the other with the gun as guard. It was late when they had finished dinner, and went up to watch for the signal. On the cliff they felt more secure, as nothing could approach in front, and behind the slope was partly open, still one had always to keep watch even there. Mark sat facing the slope with the gun: Bevis faced the New Sea with the telescope. The sky had clouded over and there was more wind, in puffs, from the south-east. Charlie soon came, waved the handkerchief, and went away.

“I wish he was here,” said Bevis.

“So do I now,” said Mark, “and Val and Cecil—”

“And Ted.”

“Yes. But how could we know that there was a panther here?”

“But it serves us right for not asking them,” said Bevis. “It was selfish of us.”

“Suppose we go ashore and send Loo to tell Charlie and Val—”

“Last night,” said Bevis, interrupting, “why—while I was out in the wilderness and you were in the thicket the thing might have had either of us.”

“No one watching.”

“If one was attacked, no one near to help.”

“No.”

“But we could both go together, and tell Loo, and get Charlie and Val and Cecil and Ted. If we all had guns now!”

“Five or six of us!”

“Perhaps if we told the people at home, the governor would let me have one of his: then we could load and shoot quick!”

“And the Jolly Old Moke would let me have his! and if Val could get another and Ted, we could hunt the island and shoot the creature.”

Mark was as eager now for company as he had been before that no one should enjoy the island with them.

“We could bring them all off on the raft,” said Bevis. “It would carry four, I think.”

“Twice would do it then. Let’s tell them! Let’s see Loo, and send her! Wouldn’t they come as quick as lightning!”

“They would be wild to help to shoot it.”

“Just to have the chance.”

“Yes; but I say! what stupes we should be!” said Bevis.

“Why? How?”

“After we have had all the danger and trouble, to let them come in and have the shooting and the hunt and the skin.”

“Triumph and spoils!”

“Striped skin.”

“Or spotted.”

“Or tawny mane—we don’t know which. Just think, to let them have it!”

“No,” said Mark. “That we won’t: we must have it.”

“It’sourtiger,” said Bevis.

“All ours.”

“Every bit.”

“The claws make things, don’t they?” said Mark: he meant the reverse, that things are made of tiger’s claws as trophies.

“Yes, and the teeth.”

“And the skin—beautiful!”

“Splendid!”

“Rugs.”

“Hurrah!”

“We’ll have him!”

“Kill him!”

“Yow—wow!”

Pan caught their altered mood and leaped on them, barking joyously. They went down into the stockade and considered if there was anything they could do to add to their defences, and at the same time increase the chances of shooting the tiger.

“Perhaps he won’t spring over,” said Mark; “suppose we leave the gate open? else we shan’t get a shot at him.”

“I want a shot at him while he’s on the fence,” said Bevis, “balanced on the top, you know, like Pan sometimes at home.” In leaping a fence or gate too high for him they had often laughed at the spaniel swaying on the edge and not able to get his balance to leap down without falling headlong. “I know what we will do,” he continued, “we’ll put out some meat to tempt him.”

“Bait.”

“Hang up the other birds—and my hare—no—shall I? He’s such a beauty. Yes, I will. I’ll put the hare out too. Hares are game; he’s sure to jump over for the hare.”

“Drive in a stake half-way,” said Mark, meaning half-way between the cage and the stockade. “Let’s do it now.”

There were several pieces of poles lying about, and the stake was soon up. The birds and the hare were to be strung to it to tempt the beast to leap into the enclosure. The next point was at what part should they aim? At the head, the shoulders, or where? as the most fatal.

The head was the best, but then in the hurry and excitement they might miss it, and he might not turn his shoulder, so they decided that whoever was on the watch at the moment should aim at the body of the creature so as to be certain to plant a bullet in it. If he was once hit, his rage and desire of revenge would prevent him from going away; he would attack the cage, and while he was venting his rage on the bars there would be time to load and fire again.

“And put the muzzle close to his head the second time,” said Mark.

“Certain to kill then.”

They sat down inside the cage and imagined the position the beast would be in when it approached them. Mark was to load the matchlock for the second shot in any case, while Bevis sent arrow after arrow into the creature. Pan was to be tied up with a short cord, else perhaps the tiger or panther would insert a paw and kill him with a single pat.

“But it’s so long to wait,” said Mark. “He won’t come till the middle of the night.”

“He’s been in the day when we were out,” said Bevis. “Suppose we go up on the cliff, leave the gate open, and if he comes shoot down at him?”

“Come on.”

They went up on the cliff, just behind the spiked stakes, taking with them the gun, the axe, and bow and arrows. If the beast entered the enclosure they could get a capital shot down at him, nor could he leap up, he would have to go some distance round to get at them, and meantime the gun could be reloaded. They waited, nothing entered the stockade but a robin.

“This is very slow,” said Mark.

“Very,” said Bevis. “What’s the use of waiting? Suppose we go and hunt him up.”

“In the wood?”

“Everywhere—sedges and fern—everywhere.”

“Hurrah!”

Up they jumped full of delight at the thought of freedom again. It was so great a relief to move about that they ignored the danger. Anything was better than being forced to stay still.

“If he’s on the island we’ll find him.”

“Leave the gate open, that we may run in quick.”

“Perhaps he’ll go in while we’re away, then we can just slip up on the cliff, and fire down—”

“Jolly!”

“Look very sharp.”

“Blow the match.”

They entered among the trees, following the path which led round the island. Bevis carried the matchlock, Mark the bow and arrows and axe, and it was arranged that the moment Bevis had fired he was to pass the gun to Mark, and take his bow. While he shot arrows, Mark was to load and shoot as quick as he could. The axe was to be thrown down on the ground, so that either could snatch it up if necessary. All they regretted was that they had not got proper hunting-knives.

First they went down to the raft moored to the alder bough as usual, then on to the projecting point where Mark once fished; on again to where the willow-tree lay overthrown in the water, and up to the firs under which they had reclined. Then they went to the shore at the uttermost southern extremity and sent Pan into the sedges. He drove out a moorhen, but they did not shoot at it now, not daring to do so lest the beast should attack them before they could load again.

Coming up the western side of the island, they once thought they saw something in the bushes, but found it to be the trunk of a fallen tree. In going inland to Kangaroo Hill they moved more slowly as the wood was thicker, and intent on the slightest indication, the sudden motion of a squirrel climbing a beech startled them. From the top of the green knoll they looked all round, and thus examined the glade. There was not the slightest sign. The feathers of a wood-pigeon were scattered on the grass in one place, where a hawk had struck it down. This had happened since they were last at the glade. It was probably one of the pigeons that roosted in the ivy-grown oak.

Crossing to the oak, they flung sticks up into the ivy; there was no roar in response. While here they remembered the wires, and looked at them, but there was nothing caught, which they considered a proof that the rabbits were afraid to venture far from their burries while the tiger, or whatever beast it was, was prowling about at night.

Returning to the shore, they recollected a large bed of sedges and reed-grass a little way back, and going there Bevis shot an arrow into it. The arrow slipped through the reed-grass with a slight rustle till it was lost. The spaniel ran in and they heard him plunging about. There was nothing in the reed-grass.

Lastly they went to the thicket of “wait-a-bit” blackthorn. Pan did go in, and that was as much, he soon came out, he did not like the blackthorn. But by throwing stones and fragments of dead branches up in the air so that they should descend into the midst of the thicket they satisfied themselves that there was nothing in it. It was necessary to cast the stones and sticks up into the air because they would not penetrate if thrown horizontally.

The circuit of the island was completed, and they now crept up quietly to the verge of the cliff behind the spiked stakes. The stockade was exactly as they had left it; Pan looked over the edge of the cliff into it, and did not even sniff. They went down and rested a few minutes.

There never was greater temerity than this searching the island for the tiger. Neither the bullet nor their arrows would have stayed the advance of that terrible beast for a moment. Inside their stockade and cage they might withstand him; in the open he would have swept them down just as a lady’s sleeve might sweep down the chessmen on the board. Thus in his native haunts he overthrows a crowd of spear-armed savages.

“He can’t be on the island,” said Mark.

“It’s curious we did not see any sign,” said Bevis. “There are no marks or footprints anywhere.”

“If there was some clay now—wet clay,” said Mark, “but it’s all sandy; his claws would show in clay like Pan’s.”

“Like a crab.” Pan’s footprint in moist clay was somewhat crab-shaped.

“Is there no place where he would leave a mark?”

“Just at the edge of the water the moorhens leave footprints.”

“That would be the place, only we can’t look very close to the edge everywhere.”

“There’s the raft; we could on the raft.”

“Shall we go on the raft?”

“Suppose we go all round the island?” said Bevis, “on the raft.”

“We never have been,” said Mark. “Not close to the shore.”

“No; let us pole round close to the shore—all round, and see if we can find any spoor in the shallows.”

They went to the raft and embarked. As they started a crimson glow shot along under the clouds, the sun was sinking and the sky beamed. The wind had risen and the wavelets came splash, splash against the edge of the raft. Some of the yellow leaves of the willows floated along and fell on the deck. They poled slowly and constantly grounded or struck the shore, so that it occupied some time to get round, especially as at the southern extremity it was so shallow they were obliged to go a long way out.

In about an hour they reached the thick bed of reed-grass into which Bevis had shot his arrow, and as the raft slowly glided by Mark suddenly exclaimed, “There it is!”

There it was—a path through the reed-grass down to the water’s edge—the trail of some creature. Bevis stuck his pole into the ground to check the onward movement of the raft. The impetus of the heavy vessel was so great though moving slowly that it required all his strength to stay it. Mark came with his pole, and together they pushed the raft back, and it ran right up into the reed-grass and grounded. Pan instantly leapt off into the path, and ran along it wagging his tail; he had the scent, though it seemed faint as he did not give tongue. They stood at the bulwark of the raft and looked at the trail.

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