Just as I was beginning to despair of getting to the sea, I opened a small bay, at the head of which a rather wide creek could be seen, winding away in a southerly direction. Without a moment’s hesitation I put down my helm and, heading up the bay, entered the creek. It appeared to be a temporary or recent opening through the land, probably caused by the overflow of the lagoon at the first burst of the rains, for its banks were destitute of vegetation and covered with shingle; and I was in momentary dread of coming to the end of it, especially as I noticed that the water was quite still and stagnant. Finding the creek too narrow to sail in, I lowered the sail and mast and took to the pole, with which I drove the canoe rapidly through the sinuous channel, my hopes rising as reach after reach was passed. But the banks gradually closed in, and the water grew shallower until presently an ominous grating sensation told me that the keel was on the bottom, and the next moment the canoe stopped dead. I was now among a range of old grass-covered sand dunes, and the hollow throb of the surf seemed close at hand, so, leaping ashore, I ran up one of the dunes and looked south. But a few hundred yards away was a bare and open beach with the snowy surf and the blue ocean beyond; a mile to the west a small cluster of huts marked a fishing village, but not a creature was in sight. Turning my gaze northward, I swept the wide expanse of lagoon. On all that great stretch of water I could see but a single human figure--that of my pursuer, poling furiously (for he was now in the shallows), and just entering the bay. I ran quickly along the dwindling creek to its termination among the sand-hills. From the foot of the dunes a level space of loose, blown sand extended for a couple of hundred yards, then the actual beach sloped down pretty steeply right into the surf. If it had not been for this fellow who was dogging me so suspiciously, my task would have been simple enough--until I launched into the surf; and for a moment the idea of ridding myself of this enemy by a thrust of my spear crossed my mind. But instantly dismissing it, I set about unloading the canoe with all speed. There was no time to make any arrangements for carrying the gold; I could only take up a pair of bunches in each hand and stagger off with them to the foot of the sand-hills, drop them there and return for more. But this took up a considerable time, besides being very fatiguing, and I had only made five journeys when, as I returned, I saw the velvet-capped head of my pursuer over the land, zigzagging along the next reach but one. By this time my canoe was well afloat again, so catching the painter I ran off, towing her after me, and got her nearly a hundred yards before she went aground again. As she did so, the dug-out suddenly appeared round the bed of the creek, and the man, pole in hand, jumped ashore and ran up into the sand-hills, where he disappeared.