And now, as every feature of this fairy isle unrolled itself before their anxious eyes, keenly they surveyed it all, watching grimly for the dreaded human. "Nary a sign o' man thar," muttered Broncho. "It shore looks lonesome a whole lot." "The inhabitants of atolls always live on the lagoon," explained Jack. "They shun the sea strand and consider it the abode of evil spirits and devils." "Can we land through that surf?" asked Jim uneasily, as he scanned the boiling white water ahead. "Want a Pitcairn Islander to take us in if it looks as bad as it sounds," declared the rover. "Me boat-steerer, go in allee-lightee," said Tari quietly. "We'd better skirt round the island first, and see if we can't find an opening into the lagoon," advised Jack. The boat's head was turned, and skimming along just outside the breakers, they commenced to circle the island. All of a sudden as they came opposite the big palm, a man appeared through the brush and walked slowly on to the beach. He stopped at the water's edge, and stood there watching them, his form standing clear-cut and lonely against the dazzling whiteness of the sand. Jim drew his breath with a long hiss of apprehension, and Broncho fumbled his Winchester uncertainly as he gazed at the apparition. Tari, at the steering-oar, gave a queer grunt of alarm, and with a rapid gesture, murmured in dialect to the rolling-stone, who, helpless in his blindness, lay silent and worried. "Carryin' a war club!" exclaimed the cowpuncher significantly, in a low voice. It was a moment of great suspense. Who knew what lurking savages lay hid behind the ambush of that brushwood, ready as the boat's keel grated on the shore to shower a flight of poisoned arrows upon the strangers? What would be the next move of the decoy in the foreground? Was he about to entice them ashore with friendly gestures? What blood-thirsty design had he planned for their entrapping? They could not tell. They could only trust to Providence and await the issue. Suddenly the solitary figure moved, flourished an arm, and hailed them. "Boat ahoy!" came thundering down the wind. The effect of the two English words was electrical. Jim sprang wildly on to the thwart and cheered. The cowpuncher laid down his Winchester, and bent his eagle eye upon the man with renewed keenness. "He's white, shore enough!" he exclaimed, and burst into a strange laugh of relief. The Kanaka gave a short, expressionless grunt, whilst Jack clambered to his feet, and with one hand round the mast to balance himself, shouted out the question: "Can we get into the lagoon?" "No; better land here. Look out for the surf, though. Where you from?" "Shipwrecked!" replied Jack. Acting on the stranger's advice, Tari turned the boat's head shorewards. The sail was lowered and mast unstepped, whilst Jim and Broncho shipped two oars and prepared to pull or backwater, according as the Kanaka should direct.