In the visual illusion caused by the strong light inside and the deep darkness without, we saw nothing but that great hand and arm. I sprang up and rushed to the door, followed by Rita. There was no sign of any one about. I ran round the house, and scanned the bushes; I went down on to the beach, then across the bridge over the creek, but I failed to detect the presence of any man. I came back to Rita to ease her mind, and found her anxious yet wonderfully calm. "George!--you need not tell me,--it was Joe. I know his hand and arm when I see them. He is up to something. "Oh! You must be careful. Promise me you will be careful?" I gave her my word, then I set her in her boat for home, asking her to wait for a moment until I should return. Before setting her out on her journey, I wished to make perfectly sure that there was no one about. I again crossed the creek, past Mary's house, which was in complete darkness, and down on to her beach. There, hiding in the shelter of the rocks, was a launch, moored to one of the rings which Jake had set in at convenient places just for the purpose it was now being used. I ran out and examined it. It was Joe Clark's. So!--I thought,--he is still on this side. I returned to Rita, wished her good-night and pushed her out on the water. I came leisurely up the beach, keeping my eyes well skinned. But, after a bit, I began to laugh, chiding myself for my childish precautions. I went into the kitchen, took an empty bucket in each hand and set out along the back path for a fresh supply of water for my morning requirements, to the stream, fifty yards in the wood, where I had hollowed out a well and boarded it over. It was dark, gloomy and ghostly in the woods there, for the moon was stealing fitfully under the clouds and through the tall firs, throwing strange shadows about. I had almost reached the well, when I heard a crackling of dead wood to my right. A huge, agile-looking figure pushed its way through, and Joe Clark stood before me, blocking my path. He held two, roughly cut clubs, one in each hand. His sleeves were rolled up over his tremendous arms; his shirt was open at the neck, displaying, even in the uncertain moonlight, a great, hairy, massive chest over which muscles and sinews crawled. I scanned his face. His jaw was set, his lips were a thin line, his eyes were gleaming savagely and a mane of fair hair was falling in a clump over his brow. He looked dishevelled and was evidently labouring under badly suppressed excitement. "Where's Rita?" he growled. I put my buckets aside and took my pipe from between my teeth. "Half-way home by this time, I hope," I said. "She is,--eh!" he cut in sarcastically. "Guess so! Look here, Bremner,--what'n the hell's your game with Rita, anyway?" I went straight up to him.