And here was Flounce, ready to misbehave once more.  Before he could catch her, the small white body of the terrier whipped by him, and past the steersman.  This time, however, as though cowed, she began to whimper, and then maintained a long, trembling whine.

Beside Rudolph, the compradore’s head bobbed up.

“Allo same she mastah come.”  And in his native tongue, Ah Pat grumbled something about ghosts.

A harsh voice hailed, from the boat astern; the lowdah answered; and so rapidly slid the deceptive glimmer of her bow, that before Rudolph knew whether to wake his friends, or could recover, next, from the shock and ecstasy of unbelief, a tall white figure jumped or swarmed over the side.

“By Jove, my dream!” sounded the voice of Heywood, gravely.  With fingers that dripped gold, he tried to pat the bounding terrier.  She flew up at him, and tumbled back, in the liveliest danger of falling overboard.  “Old girl,—­my dream!”

The figure rose.

“Hallo, Rudie.”  In a daze, Rudolph gripped the wet and shining hands, and heard the same quiet voice:  “Rest all asleep, I suppose?  Don’t wake ’em.  To-morrow will do.—­Have you any money on you?  Toss that fisherman—­whatever you think I’m worth.  He really rowed like steam, you know.”

Rudolph flung his purse into the other boat.  When he turned, this man restored from the sea had disappeared.  But he had only stolen forward, dog in arms, to sit beside Miss Drake.  So quietly had all happened, that none of the sleepers, not even the captain, was aware.  Rudolph drew near the two murmuring voices.

“—­Couldn’t help it, honestly,” said Heywood.  “Can’t describe, or explain.  Just something—­went black inside my head, you know.”  He paused.  “No:  don’t recall seeing a thing, really, until I pitched away the—­what happened to be in my hands.  A blank, all that.  Losing your head, I suppose they call it.  Most extraordinary.”

The girl’s question recalled him from his puzzle.

“Do?  Oh!” He disposed of the subject easily.  “I ran, that’s all.—­Oh, yes, but I ran faster.—­Not half so many as you’d suppose.  Most of ’em were away, burning your hospital.  Saw the smoke, as I ran.  All gone but a handful.  Hence those stuffed hats, Rudie, in the trench.—­Only three of the lot could run.  I merely scuttled into the next bamboo, and kept on scuttling.  No:  they weren’t half loaded.  Oh, yes, arrow in the shoulder—­scratch.  Of course, when it came dark, I stopped running, and made for the nearest fisherman.  That’s all.”

“But,” protested Rudolph, wondering, “we heard shots.”

“Yes, I had my Webley in my belt.  Fortunately.  I told you:  three of them could run.”  The speaker patted the terrier in his lap.  “My dream, eh, little dog?  You were the only one to know.”

“No,” said the girl:  “I knew—­all the time, that—­”

Whatever she meant, Rudolph could only guess; but it was true, he thought, that she had never once spoken as though the present meeting were not possible, here or somewhere.  Recalling this, he suddenly but quietly stepped away aft, to sit beside the steersman, and smile in the darkness.