The three men walked away from the camp, looked off into every direction of the starlit night.  Nowhere was there sign or sound of life.

“It must have been gulls,” said Honey Smith.

“It didn’t sound like gulls,” answered Frank Merrill.  For an instant he fell into meditation so deep that he virtually forgot the presence of the other two.  “I don’t know what it was,” he said finally in an exasperated tone.  “I’m going to sleep.”

They walked back to camp.  Frank Merrill rolled himself up in a blanket, lay down.  Soon there came from his direction only the sound of regular, deep breathing.

“Well, Honey,” Billy Fairfax asked, a note of triumph in his voice, “how about it?”

“Well, Billy,” Honey Smith said in a baffled tone, “when you get the answer, give it to me.”

Nobody mentioned the night’s experience the next day.  But a dozen times Frank Merrill stopped his work to gaze out to sea, an expression of perplexity on his face.

The next night, however, they were all waked again, waked twice.  It was Ralph Addington who spoke first; a kind of hoarse grunt and a “What the devil was that?”

“What?” the others called.

“Damned if I know,” Ralph answered.  “If you wouldn’t think I was off my conch, I’d say it was a gang of women laughing.”

Pete Murphy, who always woke in high spirits, began to joke Ralph Addington.  The other three were silent.  In fifteen minutes they were all asleep; sixty, they were all awake again.

It was Pete Murphy who sounded the alarm this time.  “Say, something spoke to me,” he said.  “Or else I’m a nut.  Or else I have had the most vivid dream I’ve ever had.”  Evidently he did not believe that it was a dream.  He sat up and listened; the others listened, too.  There was no sound in the soft, still night, however.  They talked for a little while, a strangely subdued quintette.  It was as though they were all trying to comment on these experiences without saying anything about them.

They slept through the next night undisturbed until just before sunrise.  Then Honey Smith woke them.  It was still dark, but a fine dawn-glow had begun faintly to silver the east.  “Say, you fellows,” he exclaimed.  “Wake up!” His voice vibrated with excitement, although he seemed to try to keep it low.  “There are strange critters round here.  No mistake this time.  Woke with a start, feeling that something had brushed over me — saw a great bird — a gigantic thing — flying off heard one woman’s laugh - then another — .”

It was significant that nobody joked Honey this time.  “Say, this island’ll be a nut-house if this keeps up,” Pete Murphy said irritably.  “Let’s go to sleep again.”

“No, you don’t!” said Honey.  “Not one of you is going to sleep.  You’re all going to sit up with me until the blasted sun comes up.”

People always hastened to accommodate Honey.  In spite of the hour, they began to rake the fire, to prepare breakfast.  The others became preoccupied gradually, but Honey still sat with his face towards the water, watching.