For a while she talked, making innocent observations concerning the tropical foliage surrounding us. Then silence crept in between us, accentuated by the brooding stillness of the forest. "I am afraid your hands are growing tired," she said, considerately. I denied it. Through the vista of palms we could see the lake, blue as a violet, sparkling with silvery sunshine. In the intense quiet the splash of leaping mullet sounded distinctly. Once a tall crane stalked into view among the sedges; once an unseen alligator shook the silence with his deep, hollow roaring. Then the stillness of the wilderness grew more intense. We had been sitting there for a long while without exchanging a word, dreamily watching the ripple of the azure water, when all at once there came a scurrying patter of feet through the forest, and, looking up, I beheld the hound-dog, tail between his legs, bearing down on us at lightning speed. I rose instantly. "What is the matter with the dog?" cried the pretty stenographer. "Is he going mad, Mr. Gilland?" "Something has scared him," I exclaimed, as the dog, eyes like lighted candles, rushed frantically between my legs and buried his head in Miss Barrison's lap. "Poor doggy!" she said, smoothing the collapsed pup; "poor, p-oor little beast! Did anything scare him? Tell aunty all about it." When a dog flees _without yelping_ he's a badly frightened creature. I instinctively started back towards the camp whence the beast had fled, and before I had taken a dozen steps Miss Barrison was beside me, carrying the dog in her arms. "I've an idea," she said, under her breath. "What?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the camp. "It's this: I'll wager that we find those pies gone!" "Pies gone?" I repeated, perplexed; "what makes you think--" "They _are_ gone!" she exclaimed. "Look!" I gaped stupidly at the rough pine table where the pies had stood in three neat rows of four each. And then, in a moment, the purport of this robbery flashed upon my senses. "The transparent creatures!" I gasped. "Hush!" she whispered, clinging to the trembling dog in her arms. I listened. I could hear nothing, see nothing, yet slowly I became convinced of the presence of something unseen--something in the forest close by, watching us out of invisible eyes. A chill, settling along my spine, crept upward to my scalp, until every separate hair wiggled to the roots. Miss Barrison was pale, but perfectly calm and self-possessed. "Let us go in-doors," I said, as steadily as I could. "Very well," she replied. I held the door open; she entered with the dog; I followed, closing and barring the door, and then took my station at the window, rifle in hand. There was not a sound in the forest. Miss Barrison laid the dog on the floor and quietly picked up her pad and pencil. Presently she was deep in a report of the phenomena, her pencil flying, leaf after leaf from the pad fluttering to the floor.