Something must be said or done to reassure her.  She was still grievously disturbed, and he naturally ascribed her agitation to the horror of her capture.  He dreaded a complete collapse if any further alarms threatened at once.  Yet he was almost positive—­though search alone would set at rest the last misgiving—­that only one sampan had visited the island.  Evidently the Dyaks were unprepared as he for the events of the preceding half-hour.  They were either visiting the island to procure turtle and beche-de-mer or had merely called there en route to some other destination, and the change in the wind had unexpectedly compelled them to put ashore.  Beyond all doubt they must have been surprised by the warmth of the reception they encountered.

Probably, when he went to Summit Rock that morning, the savages had lowered their sail and were steadily paddling north against wind and current.  The most careful scrutiny of the sea would fail to reveal them beyond a distance of six or seven miles at the utmost.

After landing in the hidden bay on the south side, they crossed the island through the trees instead of taking the more natural open way along the beach.  Why?  The fact that he and Iris were then passing the grown-over tract leading to the Valley of Death instantly determined this point.  The Dyaks knew of this affrighting hollow, and would not approach any nearer to it than was unavoidable.  Could he twist this circumstance to advantage if Iris and he were still stranded there when the superstitious sea-rovers next put in an appearance?  He would see.  All depended on the girl’s strength.  If she gave way now—­if, instead of taking instant measures for safety, he were called upon to nurse her through a fever—­the outlook became not only desperate but hopeless.

And, whilst he bent his brows in worrying thought, the color was returning to Iris’s cheeks, and natural buoyancy to her step.  It is the fault of all men to underrate the marvelous courage and constancy of woman in the face of difficulties and trials.  Jenks was no exception to the rule.

“You do not ask me for any account of my adventures,” she said quietly, after watching his perplexed expression in silence for some time.

Her tone almost startled him, its unassumed cheerfulness was so unlooked for.

“No,” he answered.  “I thought you were too overwrought to talk of them at present.”

“Overwrought!  Not a bit of it!  I was dead beat with the struggle and with screaming for you, but please don’t imagine that I am going to faint or treat you to a display of hysteria now that all the excitement has ended.  I admit that I cried a little when you pushed me aside on the beach and raised your gun to fire at those poor wretches flying for their lives.  Yet perhaps I was wrong to hinder you.”

“You were wrong,” he gravely interrupted.

“Then you should not have heeded me.  No, I don’t mean that.  You always consider me first, don’t you?  No matter what I ask you to do you endeavor to please me, even when you know all the time that I am acting or speaking foolishly.”