Beryl was out on the veranda, staring into the darkness. Opposite her, not two yards from her face, something shone through the bar of the jalousies. Two great eyes, green as the stone she had found, glittering, ravenous, were fixed on her; but not even a shadow of the thing in whose head they shone showed against the black storm outside. “Come in,” said Andria, paralyzed. “Come in! Oh, what is it?” At the sound of her voice there came a snarl that made her blood cold, but the creature, whatever it was, could not loose its foothold to claw at the bars. “It’s an animal,” said Beryl, in a queer singsong tone, “I’m not afraid of animals. Go in, or you’ll be killed.” She walked nearer to those awful eyes, crooning softly to herself. The snarling ceased, but as Andria, in mad fear, leapt after the girl, it broke out so wildly, with such a guttural note of rage, that she screamed. The thing had got foothold! It was clawing at the bars. CHAPTER XV. A STRANGE POWER. With a quick, backward sweep of her long, young arm Beryl Corselas sent Andria staggering backward, but she never looked to see Salome catch her dexterously and drag her inside the room. Without taking her eyes from the fierce ones outside the stout, wooden shutters, the girl began to croon again and the hungry scratching of the iron claws ceased. Monotonous, scarcely rising or falling, that queer chant went on, till through it there rose a purr like a great cat’s. Closer, closer Beryl drew to the jalousy; the horrified watchers saw her all but touch it. She stopped and gazed through the slats, straight into the wonderful eyes. Very slowly the great animal relaxed, scraping against the wood. Something heavy, yet strangely light-footed, leaped softly to the ground. The thing was gone. Exactly as if she walked in her sleep Beryl Corselas came straight to the other two. “I want a drink of water,” she said, very low. “That was a jaguar.” Salome struck a light and shut the door on the awful darkness of the veranda before she brought a tumbler from the wash-stand. “How do you know? You never saw one.” Andria’s voice was thick with shame. She had been so grand about saving Beryl; and it was Beryl who had saved her! She threw her dagger down angrily; it would have been no use at all in a struggle with a beast like that. “I don’t know.” Beryl gulped at the water. “But I do know, somehow,” she said in her natural, every-day voice. Salome took the tumbler from her with a curious gesture of respect. “My soul! You saved us! Oh! my glory!” she cried hysterically. “Glory, glory!” her voice rang out between sobs and laughter. “You’s one o’ dem.” “What do you mean?” Andria had played a small part and hated herself. “You knows much as I knows,” said Salome sullenly. “You seen! She was de beat of ’em. Dey’s some born like dat. Oh, missy, glory be dis night!” Her chest heaved as she turned to Beryl, but the girl only walked away.