Someone had stripped the life-preserver from the castaway’s body, and as he lay sprawled upon the ground Colton noted the breadth and depth of the chest, remarkable in so small a man. He was swart, so swart as obviously to be of Southern European extraction. In spite of the sea’s terrific battering, he apparently had escaped any serious injury, and already had regained consciousness; but, to Colton’s surprise, kept his head buried in his arms. From time to time a convulsive shudder ran through him. “Seems to be kind of crazy-like,” volunteered old Johnston, who stood beside him. “Begged me, with his hands clasped, to help him out of the light of the fire, first thing.” “How do you feel, my friend?” asked the young doctor, bending over the survivor. The man lifted a dark and haggard face. “To a house! Take me to a house! I weesh to go inside!” His voice was a mere wheeze of terror. “We’ll get you to a house presently,” Colton assured him, presenting the brandy flask to his lips, “Can you make out to climb that cliff?” “Up there? So plain to be see? No, no!” cried the man vehemently, roving the dark heavens with his eyes. Colton looked at him in perplexity. The man got painfully to his feet, and cupped a hand to his windward ear. “I t’ink I hear eet again,” he whispered, and shook like a rag in the wind. “What are you talking about?” asked Colton. “Somesing up zere,” said the stranger, thrusting both hands in an uncouth and fearful gesture upward and outward. “Oh, you’re not quite yourself yet,” said Colton. “I tell you I hear eet!” broke out the man with extraordinary vehemence. “I feel eet! What? I do not know. But when eet come back”—he made a motion as of a winged creature swooping—“I fear an’ I jump into ze waves.” A harsh tremour went through his frame and left him panting. “You jumped?” said Johnston. “When she broke up?” “No. Before. Before she break.” “He’s crazy,” said the old life-saver. “What’d you jump for?” “Eet come after me,” shuddered the man. Again he made that extraordinary gesture. “Take me to a house—out of ze night.” “Someone must go with him to the station,” said Colton. “Let me,” Helga Johnston volunteered. The stranger faced the girl, and advanced a swift step. It was a meeting of satyr and goddess. Suddenly the satyr cast himself at the goddess’ feet and kissed them. Startled, she drew back. “Eet is you that safe me!” he cried, lifting wild and adoring eyes to her. “I see you just before all go black. You walk out on ze wave to reach me.” “Come along, you!” cried old Johnston, lifting him to his feet. “No such heathen goin’s-on for my Helga. Not that I think you know what you’re doin’,” he added. “You mustn’t go with him alone, Princess,” said Haynes quickly. “He seems to be insane.” “Father will go with me,” she replied; “though I’m safe enough. It isn’t there the danger lies.” “Helga,” said Haynes seriously, “I wish you wouldn’t let yourself be so influenced by your dreams.”