The following morning, to their surprise, they saw Macro start out early for the wreckage. And Wulf, watching him grimly, said, "He's after his poison. And now he'll probably drink himself to death. It's amazing the hold it takes on a man. He won't trouble us much longer." They spent the day ashore, but the vivacity and enjoyment of that other day were awanting. Perhaps it was the cheerless weather,--the physical and mental strain of these later days,--the thought that their devil was loosed again,--anyhow, a subtle sense of foreboding. Whatever it was it weighed upon their spirits, and a long tramp up the beach, in forlorn hope of meeting Mistress Seal again, did not succeed in raising them. "What is it, I wonder?" said The Girl. "Something is going to happen, I know. I have felt like this before, and always something dreadful has followed." "But you never knew what, beforehand? Perhaps you have the gift of prevision,--the second sight." "I may have, but it doesn't go so far as to explain things. I just feel anxious for it to be over and done with." "What?" "What's coming, whatever it is." "We must be extra careful for a time, till you are sure the trouble is past," he said, with a smile, but he felt the weight on his spirits as she did. Physically, however, their long tramp did them good, and they returned home with famous appetites. "I wonder if he's back yet," said The Girl, as they were paddling to the ship. There was no doubt as to where her fears centred. "I don't see the raft. We'll see better from the deck," and when they had climbed aboard they looked at once towards the spit and saw the mate's raft still lying there. He was not back yet. They ate, and rested, and until the darkness swallowed the spit, the raft still lay there. "He's staying late," said Wulf. "Maybe he's broached a keg and taken too much. It would be what I would expect from him under the circumstances." He patrolled the deck, after she had gone to bed, listening for the sound of the mate's oar. But he heard nothing, and at last made up his mind that the fellow had probably waited too late and had made himself snug out there for the night, though, for himself, the idea would not have commended itself. There was little danger, however, of his coming across in the dark, so he went down and slept soundly at the foot of the companion-steps. All the next day they were on the look-out for him, but he did not come. Wulf had told her of his idea that he had probably found means of passing the night out there, in which case he would no doubt put in another long day rooting for treasure. So that it was not until night had fallen again, and the raft still lay waiting on the spit, that he decided in his own mind that something was wrong. "I shall go across to the pile in the morning to find out," he said, as they sat by the fire. "I shall go with you." "I would very much sooner you stopped here."