“You are our prisoner,” he said. “Professor, is he armed?” “I have not ascertained. He is suffering from an access of unmanning terror, and I believe is not formidable.” “Anyway,” said Dick, “we had best—” He broke off as the juggler drew from his belt one of his huge, broad-bladed knives, which he doubtless had cached on the point before his capture. “Cover him, professor,” cried Dick. “Do not tak eet away,” begged the man. “We will need eet. I bring eet, for her.” He turned the dog-like adoration of his eyes upon Helga. “She safe my life; I die for her.” “What the deuce is he talking about?” growled Everard. “When I hear ze gun of ze sheepwreck, somesing tell me she weel come out. I run here an’,” a strong shudder racked him, “I see eet.” “That’s all very well,” said Dick sternly. “But you must come with us.” “Afterward! afterward!” cried the man in an agony of supplication. “Now we hide, teel eet go. Zen I gif you ze knife. Anysing after we make her safe before ze death strike her.” “This is not all lunacy,” said Dolly Ravenden quickly. “There is some danger he is trying to warn us from.” Whirling upon her, the wretched juggler threw out his arms in an eloquent gesture. “You will believe! I am murderer, zey say. So! Yet I come an’ give up to safe her. Is zere not some-sing?” “Anyway, you’ve got to give up that knife,” said Dick. Tigerish lines came out on the man’s face. “Fools!” he snarled and leaped back, a dangerous animal once more. Again the professor’s gun came up. “Shoot him!” cried Dick. “I can’t shoot him in cold blood!” protested the professor. Slowly Everard moved up from the other side. In a moment the test must have come, when a sound between a gasp and a moan turned every face toward Johnston. “Great God of Wonders!” whispered the old man, and pointed in the face of the glowing moon. One after another the little group turned, caught the vision, and were stricken motionless. Far in the radiant void, at a distance immeasurable to the estimate, soared terrifically an unknown creature. Its wings, spreading over a huge expanse, bore up with unimaginable lightness a bloated and misshapen body. From a neck that writhed hideously, as a serpent in pain, wavered a knobbed head, terminating in a great bladed beak. With slow sweep it described majestic circles. Always the waving head gave the impression of hopeless search. It was like a foul and monstrous gnat buzzing in futile endeavour at the pale-lit window of the infinite. Suddenly it fell, plunging headlong, then over and over, like a tumbler pigeon, miles and miles, so it seemed, through the empty air, only to bring up with a turn that carried it just above the sea, in a ghastly and horrid playfulness.