The unthinking naivete of her words sent the blood coursing wildly through his veins.

“Never mind,” she went on with earnest simplicity.  “God has been very good to us.  I cannot believe that He has preserved us from so many dangers to permit us to perish miserably a few hours, or days, before help comes.  And I do want to tell you exactly what happened.”

“Then you shall,” he answered.  “But first drink this.”  They had reached their camping-ground, and he hastened to procure a small quantity of brandy.

She swallowed the spirit with a protesting moue.  She really needed no such adventitious support, she said.

“All right,” commented Jenks.  “If you don’t want a drink, I do.”

“I can quite believe it,” she retorted. “Your case is very different. I knew the men would not hurt me—­after the first shock of their appearance had passed, I mean—­I also knew that you would save me.  But you, Mr. Jenks, had to do the fighting.  You were called upon to rescue precious me.  Good gracious!  No wonder you were excited.”

The sailor mentally expressed his inability to grasp the complexities of feminine nature, but Iris rattled on——­

“I carried my tin of water to the pitcher-plant, and was listening to the greedy roots gurgling away for dear life, when suddenly four men sprang out from among the trees and seized my arms before I could reach my revolver.”

“Thank Heaven you failed.”

“You think that if I had fired at them they would have retaliated.  Yes, especially if I had hit the chief.  But it was he who instantly gave some order, and I suppose it meant that they were not to hurt me.  As a matter of fact, they seemed to be quite as much astonished as I was alarmed.  But if they could hold my hands they could not stop my voice so readily.  Oh! didn’t I yell?”

“You did.”

“I suppose you could not hear me distinctly?”

“Quite distinctly.”

“Every word?”

“Yes.”

She bent to pick some leaves and bits of dry grass from her dress.  “Well, you know,” she continued rapidly, “in such moments one cannot choose one’s words.  I just shouted the first thing that came into my head.”

“And I,” he said, “picked up the first rifle I could lay hands on.  Now, Miss Deane, as the affair has ended so happily, may I venture to ask you to remain in the cave until I return?”

“Oh, please—­” she began.

“Really, I must insist.  I would not leave you if it were not quite imperative.  You cannot come with me.”

Then she understood one at least of the tasks he must perform, and she meekly obeyed.

He thought it best to go along Turtle Beach to the cove, and thence follow the Dyaks’ trail through the wood, as this line of advance would entail practically a complete circuit of the island.  He omitted no precautions in his advance.  Often he stopped and listened intently.  Whenever he doubled a point or passed among the trees he crept back and peered along the way he had come, to see if any lurking foes were breaking shelter behind him.