Through the vista of palms we could see the lake, blue as a violet,
sparkling with silvery sunshine. In the intense quiet the splash of
leaping mullet sounded distinctly.
Once a tall crane stalked into view among the sedges; once an unseen
alligator shook the silence with his deep, hollow roaring. Then the
stillness of the wilderness grew more intense.
We had been sitting there for a long while without exchanging a word,
dreamily watching the ripple of the azure water, when all at once
there came a scurrying patter of feet through the forest, and, looking
up, I beheld the hound-dog, tail between his legs, bearing down on us
at lightning speed. I rose instantly.
"What is the matter with the dog?" cried the pretty stenographer. "Is
he going mad, Mr. Gilland?"
"Something has scared him," I exclaimed, as the dog, eyes like lighted
candles, rushed frantically between my legs and buried his head in
Miss Barrison's lap.
"Poor doggy!" she said, smoothing the collapsed pup; "poor, p-oor
little beast! Did anything scare him? Tell aunty all about it."
When a dog flees _without yelping_ he's a badly frightened creature. I
instinctively started back towards the camp whence the beast had fled,
and before I had taken a dozen steps Miss Barrison was beside me,
carrying the dog in her arms.
"I've an idea," she said, under her breath.
"What?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the camp.
"It's this: I'll wager that we find those pies gone!"
"Pies gone?" I repeated, perplexed; "what makes you think--"
"They _are_ gone!" she exclaimed. "Look!"
I gaped stupidly at the rough pine table where the pies had stood in
three neat rows of four each. And then, in a moment, the purport of
this robbery flashed upon my senses.
"The transparent creatures!" I gasped.
"Hush!" she whispered, clinging to the trembling dog in her arms.
I listened. I could hear nothing, see nothing, yet slowly I became
convinced of the presence of something unseen--something in the forest
close by, watching us out of invisible eyes.
A chill, settling along my spine, crept upward to my scalp, until
every separate hair wiggled to the roots. Miss Barrison was pale, but
perfectly calm and self-possessed.
"Let us go in-doors," I said, as steadily as I could.
"Very well," she replied.
I held the door open; she entered with the dog; I followed, closing
and barring the door, and then took my station at the window, rifle in
hand.
There was not a sound in the forest. Miss Barrison laid the dog on the
floor and quietly picked up her pad and pencil. Presently she was deep
in a report of the phenomena, her pencil flying, leaf after leaf from
the pad fluttering to the floor.
Nor did I at the window change my position of scared alertness, until
I was aware of her hand gently touching my elbow to attract my
attention, and her soft voice at my ear--
"You don't suppose by any chance that the dog ate those pies?"