“Then strike,” I said furiously, “strike, why don’t you, and not beat about the bush so!” Because then he would be quite hopelessly in the wrong, and I could adopt any of several roles—­the coldly haughty, the wounded but forgiving, etc., with great enjoyment.

But without a change in his glacial manner he quite casually remarked: 

“It would seem I had struck—­home.”

I walked away wishing the dynamite would go off, even if I had to be mixed with Violet till the last trump.

Fortunately nobody undertook to exercise any guardianship over Crusoe, and the little white dog bore me faithful company in my rambles.  Mostly these were confined to the neighborhood of the cove.  I never ventured beyond Lookout ridge, but there I went often with Crusoe, and we would sit upon a rock and talk to each other about our first encounter there, and the fright he had given me.  Everybody else had gone, gazed and admired.  But the only constant pilgrim, besides myself, was, of all people, Captain Magnus.  Soon between us we had worn a path through the woods to the top of the ridge.  The captain’s unexpected ardor for scenery carried him thither whenever he had half an hour to spare from the work in the cave.  Needless to say, Crusoe and I timed our visits so as not to conflict with his.  A less discreet beast than Crusoe would long ere this have sampled the captain’s calves, for the sailor missed no sly chance to exasperate the animal.  But the wise dog contented himself with such manifestations as a lifted lip and twitching ears, for he had his own code of behavior, and was not to be goaded into departing from it.

One day, as Crusoe and I came down from the ridge, we met Captain Magnus ascending.  I had in my hand a small metal-backed mirror, which I had found, surprisingly, lying in a mossy cleft between the rocks.  It was a thing such as a man might carry in his pocket, though on the island it seemed unlikely that any one would do’ so.  I at once attributed the mirror to Captain Magnus, for I knew that no one else had been to the ridge for days.  I was wondering as I walked along whether by some sublime law of compensation the captain really thought himself beautiful, and sought this retired spot to admire not the view but his own physiognomy.

When the captain saw me he stopped full in the path.  There was a growth of fern on either side.  I approached slowly, and, as he did not move, paused, and held out the mirror.

“I think you must have dropped this, Captain Magnus.  I found it on the rocks.”

For an instant his face changed.  His evasive eyes were turned to me searchingly and sharply.  He took the glass from my hand and slipped it into his pocket.  I made a movement to pass on, then stopped, with a faint dawning of discomfort.  For the heavy figure of the captain still blocked the path..

A dark flush had come into the man’s face.  His yellow teeth showed between his parted lips.  His eyes had a swimming brightness.