As he waited, wondering what could be the cause of his presentiment, Miguel suddenly sat up. “I can’t stand it any longer,” he cried. “There’s----” The sentence remained unfinished. His words were drowned by a rustling, creaking noise and the hut shook as if about to collapse. A moment later they heard the sound of a heavy body rushing away through the jungle. “Good heavens,” David exclaimed in consternation. “What can it be? There are no animals on the island. Let’s start a fire.” Miguel was so frightened he could hardly move. “I don’t know,” he whispered, “unless it is the evil one himself.” “It was something a lot more real than that. But what?” David replied. They started a fire and remained near it the remainder of the night, discussing their strange visitor, but reaching no conclusion as to what it could have been. Daylight revealed the fact that their shelter had been badly battered. They searched the ground for foot-prints but found none. There was not the slightest clue to give any intimation of the solution of the mystery. After a hasty breakfast, they started on a systematic search of the island, cutting a number of straight trails across from one side to the other, but still they found not the least sign of the presence of an animal of any kind. However, Miguel did discover a species of palm, the large terminal bud of which was delicious eaten raw, and another kind of the same trees which gave quantities of white sap or milk of fine flavor; they had only to tap it in the fashion of a rubber tree. These two articles were a most welcome addition to their food supply of meat that had begun to pall. Also, they provided the vegetable matter so necessary to their well-being. That night the men took turns in watching throughout the hours of darkness, but the nocturnal prowler did not return. They supposed, therefore, that they had frightened the creature away, whatever it could have been, and this thought afforded them a measure of relief. “I’ll tell you what we could do,” David said the following morning. “We could get material together for a raft and start to build it. It will keep us occupied and perhaps we can make one strong enough to run the rapids without breaking apart.” Miguel shook his head. “Impossible,” he said. “No raft or boat of any kind could do it. Look at the rocks; look at the whirlpools; look at the swift current. There might even be more falls below. But we can make one anyway. It will keep us busy, and--say, I just thought of something. In the rainy season, when the water is high, there won’t be any rapids, or at least they will be only very mild, and we could use the raft then.” David could have shouted for joy. Now that Miguel had mentioned it, he, too, realized that higher water would cover the rocks and obliterate the narrow, angry channels between them as well as blot out the whirlpools.