"Have you any particular reason for disliking him?"
"He's dirty."
"He _looks_ dirty, yet every day he goes into the sea and swims about. He
ought to be clean enough."
She thought for a moment, then:
"He seems, somehow, to be fundamentally unclean--I don't mean that he
doesn't wash himself. But there are certain sorts of animals and birds
and other creatures from which one instinctively shrinks--not, perhaps,
because they are materially unclean--"
"I understand," I said. After a silence I added: "Well, there's no chance
now of sending him back, even if I were inclined to do so. He appears to
be familiar with these latitudes. I don't suppose we could find a better
man for our purpose. Do you?"
"No. He was a sponge fisher once, I believe."
"Did he tell you so?"
"No. But yesterday, when you took the boat and cruised to the south, I
sat writing here and keeping up the fire. And I saw Grue climbing about
among the mangroves over the water in a most uncanny way; and two
snake-birds sat watching him, and they never moved.
"He didn't seem to see them; his back was toward them. And then, all at
once, he leaped backward at them where they sat on a mangrove, and he got
one of them by the neck--"
[Illustration: "Climbing about among the mangroves above the
water."]
"What!"
The girl nodded.
"By the neck," she repeated, "and down they went into the water. And what
do you suppose happened?"
"I can't imagine," said I with a grimace.
"Well, Grue went under, still clutching the squirming, flapping bird; and
he _stayed_ under."
"Stayed under the _water_?"
"Yes, longer than any sponge diver I ever heard of. And I was becoming
frightened when the bloody bubbles and feathers began to come up--"
"_What_ was he doing under water?"
"He must have been tearing the bird to pieces. Oh, it was quite
unpleasant, I assure you, Mr. Smith. And when he came up and looked
at me out of those very vitreous eyes he resembled something horridly
amphibious.... And I felt rather sick and dizzy."
"He's got to stop that sort of thing!" I said angrily. "Snake-birds are
harmless and I won't have him killing them in that barbarous fashion.
I've warned him already to let birds alone. I don't know how he catches
them or why he kills them. But he seems to have a mania for doing it--"
I was interrupted by Grue's soft and rather pleasant voice from the
water's edge, announcing a sail on the horizon. He did not turn when
speaking.
The next moment I made out the sail and focussed my glasses on it.
"It's Professor Kemper," I announced presently.
"I'm so glad," remarked Evelyn Grey.
I don't know why it should have suddenly occurred to me, apropos of
nothing, that Billy Kemper was unusually handsome. Or why I should
have turned and looked at the pretty waitress--except that she was,
perhaps, worth gazing upon from a purely non-scientific point of view. In
fact, to a man not entirely absorbed in scientific research and not
passionately and irrevocably wedded to his profession, her violet-blue
eyes and rather sweet mouth might have proved disturbing.
As I was thinking about this she looked up at me and smiled.
"It's a good thing," I thought to myself, "that I am irrevocably wedded
to my profession." And I gazed fixedly across the Atlantic Ocean.
* * * * *
There was scarcely sufficient breeze of a steady character to bring
Kemper to Sting-ray Key; but he got out his sweeps when I hailed him and
came in at a lively clip, anchoring alongside of our boat and leaping
ashore with that unnecessary dash and abandon which women find pleasing.
Glancing sideways at my waitress through my spectacles, I found her
looking into a small hand mirror and patting her hair with one slim and
suntanned hand.
When Professor Kemper landed on the coral he shot a curious look at Grue,
and then came striding across the reef to me.
"Hello, Smithy!" he said, holding out his hand. "Here I am, you see! Now
what's up--"
Just then Evelyn Grey got up from her seat beside the fire; and Kemper
turned and gazed at her with every symptom of unfeigned approbation.
I introduced him. Evelyn Grey seemed a trifle indifferent. A good-looking
man doesn't last long with a clever woman. I smiled to myself, polishing
my spectacles gleefully. Yet, I had no idea why I was smiling.
We three people turned and walked toward the comb of the reef. A solitary
palm represented the island's vegetation, except, of course, for the
water-growing mangroves.
I asked Miss Grey to precede us and wait for us under the palm;
and she went forward in that light-footed way of hers which, to any
non-scientific man, might have been a trifle disturbing. It had no effect
upon me. Besides, I was looking at Grue, who had gone to the fire and was
evidently preparing to fry our evening meal of fish and rice. I didn't
like to have him cook, but I wasn't going to do it myself; and my pretty
waitress didn't know how to cook anything more complicated than beans.
We had no beans.
Kemper said to me:
"Why on earth did you bring a waitress?"
"Not to wait on table," I replied, amused. "I'll explain her later.
Meanwhile, I merely want to say that you need not remain with this
expedition if you don't want to. It's optional with you."
"That's a funny thing to say!"
"No, not funny; sad. The truth is that if I fail I'll be driven into
obscurity by the ridicule of my brother scientists the world over. I had
to tell them at the Bronx what I was going after. Every man connected
with the society attempted to dissuade me, saying that the whole thing
was absurd and that my reputation would suffer if I engaged in such a
ridiculous quest. So when you hear what that girl and I are after out
here in the semi-tropics, and when you are in possession of the only
evidence I have to justify my credulity, if you want to go home, go.
Because I don't wish to risk your reputation as a scientist unless you
choose to risk it yourself."
He regarded me curiously, then his eyes strayed toward the palm-tree
which Evelyn Grey was now approaching.
"All right," he said briefly, "let's hear what's up."
So we moved forward to rejoin the girl, who had already seated herself
under the tree.
She looked very attractive in her neat cuffs, tiny cap, and pink print
gown, as we approached her.
"Why does she dress that way?" asked Kemper, uneasily.
"Economy. She desires to use up the habiliments of a service which there
will be no necessity for her to reënter if this expedition proves
successful."
"Oh. But Smithy--"
"What?"
"Was it--moral--to bring a waitress?"
"Perfectly," I replied sharply. "Science knows no sex!"
"I don't understand how a waitress can be scientific," he muttered, "and
there seems to be no question about her possessing plenty of sex--"
"If that girl's conclusions are warranted," I interrupted coldly, "she is
a most intelligent and clever person. _I_ think they are warranted. If
you don't, you may go home as soon as you like."
I glanced at him; he was smiling at her with that strained politeness
which alters the natural expression of men in the imminence of a
conversation with a new and pretty woman.
I often wonder what particular combination of facial muscles are brought
into play when that politely receptive expression transforms the normal
and masculine features into a fixed simper.
When Kemper and I had seated ourselves, I calmly cut short the small talk
in which he was already indulging, and to which, I am sorry to say, my
pretty waitress was beginning to respond. I had scarcely thought it of
her--but that's neither here nor there--and I invited her to recapitulate
the circumstances which had resulted in our present foregathering here on
this strip of coral in the Atlantic Ocean.
She did so very modestly and without embarrassment, stating the case and
reviewing the evidence so clearly and so simply that I could see how
every word she uttered was not only amazing but also convincing Kemper.
When she had ended he asked a few questions very seriously:
"Granted," he said, "that the pituitary gland represents what we assume
it represents, how much faith is to be placed in the testimony of a
Seminole Indian?"
"A Seminole Indian," she replied, "has seldom or never been known to lie.
And where a whole tribe testify alike the truth of what they assert can
not be questioned."
"How did you make them talk? They are a sullen, suspicious people,
haughty, uncommunicative, seldom even replying to an ordinary question
from a white man."
"They consider me one of them."
"Why?" he asked in surprise.
"I'll tell you why. It came about through a mere accident. I was waitress
at the hotel; it happened to be my afternoon off; so I went down to the
coquina dock to study. I study in my leisure moments, because I wish to
fit myself for a college examination."
Her charming face became serious; she picked up the hem of her apron and
continued to pleat it slowly and with precision as she talked:
"There was a Seminole named Tiger-tail sitting there, his feet dangling
above his moored canoe, evidently waiting for the tide to turn before he
went out to spear crayfish. I merely noticed he was sitting there in the
sunshine, that's all. And then I opened my mythology book and turned to
the story of Argus, on which I was reading up.
"And this is what happened: there was a picture of the death of Argus,
facing the printed page which I was reading--the well-known picture where
Juno is holding the head of the decapitated monster--and I had read
scarcely a dozen words in the book before the Seminole beside me leaned
over and placed his forefinger squarely upon the head of Argus.
"'Who?' he demanded.
"I looked around good-humoredly and was surprised at the evident
excitement of the Indian. They're not excitable, you know.
"'That,' said I, 'is a Greek gentleman named Argus.' I suppose he thought
I meant a Minorcan, for he nodded. Then, without further comment, he
placed his finger on Juno.
"'_Who?_' he inquired emphatically.
"I said flippantly: 'Oh, that's only my aunt, Juno.'
"'Aunty of you?'
"'Yes.'
"'She kill 'um Three-eye?'
"Argus had been depicted with three eyes.
"'Yes,' I said, 'my Aunt Juno had Argus killed.'
"'Why kill 'um?'
"'Well, Aunty needed his eyes to set in the tails of the peacocks which
drew her automobile. So when they cut off the head of Argus my aunt had
the eyes taken out; and that's a picture of how she set them into the
peacock.'
"'Aunty of _you_?' he repeated.
"'Certainly,' I said gravely; 'I am a direct descendant of the Goddess of
Wisdom. That's why I'm always studying when you see me down on the dock
here.'
"_'You Seminole!_' he said emphatically.
"'Seminole,' I repeated, puzzled.
"'You Seminole! Aunty Seminole--_you_ Seminole!'
"'Why, Tiger-tail?'
"'Seminole hunt Three-eye long time--hundred, hundred year--hunt 'um
Three-eye, kill 'um Three-eye.'
"'You say that for hundreds of years the Seminoles have hunted a creature
with three eyes?'
"'Sure! Hunt 'um now!'
"'_Now?_'
"'Sure!'
"'But, Tiger-tail, if the legends of your people tell you that the
Seminoles hunted a creature with three eyes hundreds of years ago,
certainly no such three-eyed creatures remain today?'
"'Some.'
"'What! Where?'
"'Black Bayou.'
"'Do you mean to tell me that a living creature with three eyes still
inhabits the forests of Black Bayou?'
"'Sure. Me see 'um. Me kill 'um three-eye man.'
"'You have killed a man who had _three eyes_?'
"'Sure!'
"'A man? _With three eyes?_'
"'Sure.'"
* * * * *
The pretty waitress, excitedly engrossed in her story, was unconsciously
acting out the thrilling scene of her dialogue with the Indian, even
imitating his voice and gestures. And Kemper and I listened and watched
her breathlessly, fascinated by her lithe and supple grace as well as by
the astounding story she was so frankly unfolding with the consummate
artlessness of a natural actress.
She turned her flushed face to us:
"I made up my mind," she said, "that Tiger-tail's story was worth
investigating. It was perfectly easy for me to secure corroboration,
because that Seminole went back to his Everglade camp and told every one
of his people that I was a white Seminole because my ancestors also
hunted the three-eyed man and nobody except a Seminole could know that
such a thing as a three-eyed man existed.
"So, the next afternoon off, I embarked in Tiger-tail's canoe and he
took me to his camp. And there I talked to his people, men and women,
questioning, listening, putting this and that together, trying to
discover some foundation for their persistent statements concerning men,
still living in the jungles of Black Bayou, who had three eyes instead
of two.
"All told the same story; all asserted that since the time their records
ran the Seminoles had hunted and slain every three-eyed man they could
catch; and that as long as the Seminoles had lived in the Everglades the
three-eyed men had lived in the forests beyond Black Bayou."
She paused, dramatically, cooling her cheeks in her palms and looking
from Kemper to me with eyes made starry by excitement.
"And _what_ do you think!" she continued, under her breath. "To prove
what they said they brought for my inspection a skull. And then two more
skulls like the first one.
"Every skull had been painted with Spanish red; the coarse black hair
still stuck to the scalps. And, behind, just over where the pituitary
gland is situated, was a hollow, bony orbit--unmistakably the socket of
a _third eye_!"
"W-where are those skulls?" demanded Kemper, in a voice not entirely
under control.
"They wouldn't part with one of them. I tried every possible persuasion.
On my own responsibility, and even before I communicated with Mr.
Smith--" turning toward me, "--I offered them twenty thousand dollars for
a single skull, staking my word of honour that the Bronx Museum would
pay that sum.
"It was useless. Not only do the Seminoles refuse to part with one of
those skulls, but I have also learned that I am the first person with a
white skin who has ever even heard of their existence--so profoundly have
these red men of the Everglades guarded their secret through centuries."
After a silence Kemper, rather pale, remarked:
"This is a most astonishing business, Miss Grey."
"What do you think about it?" I demanded. "Is it not worth while for us
to explore Black Bayou?"
He nodded in a dazed sort of way, but his gaze remained riveted on the
girl. Presently he said:
"Why does Miss Grey go?"
She turned in surprise:
"Why am I going? But it is _my_ discovery--_my_ contribution to science,
isn't it?"
"Certainly!" we exclaimed warmly and in unison. And Kemper added: "I was
only thinking of the dangers and hardships. Smith and I could do the
actual work--"
"Oh!" she cried in quick protest, "I wouldn't miss one moment of the
excitement, one pain, one pang! I _love_ it! It would simply break my
heart not to share every chance, hazard, danger of this expedition--every
atom of hope, excitement, despair, uncertainty--and the ultimate
success--the unsurpassable thrill of exultation in the final instant
of triumph!"
She sprang to her feet in a flash of uncontrollable enthusiasm, and stood
there, aglow with courage and resolution, making a highly agreeable
picture in her apron and cuffs, the sea wind fluttering the bright
tendrils of her hair under her dainty cap.
We got to our feet much impressed; and now absolutely convinced that
there did exist, somewhere, descendants of prehistoric men in whom the
third eye--placed in the back of the head for purposes of defensive
observation--had not become obsolete and reduced to the traces which we
know only as the pituitary body or pituitary gland.
Kemper and I were, of course, aware that in the insect world the ocelli
served the same purpose that the degenerate pituitary body once served in
the occiput of man.
As we three walked slowly back to the campfire, where our evening meal
was now ready, Evelyn Grey, who walked between us, told us what she
knew about the hunting of these three-eyed men by the Seminoles--how
intense was the hatred of the Indians for these people, how murderously
they behaved toward any one of them whom they could track down and catch.
"Tiger-tail told me," she went on, "that in all probability the strange
race was nearing extinction, but that all had not yet been exterminated
because now and then, when hunting along Black Bayou, traces of living
three-eyed men were still found by him and his people.
"No later than last week Tiger-tail himself had startled one of these
strange denizens of Black Bayou from a meal of fish; and had heard him
leap through the bushes and plunge into the water. It appears that
centuries of persecution have made these three-eyed men partly
amphibious--that is, capable of filling their lungs with air and
remaining under water almost as long as a turtle."
"That's impossible!" said Kemper bluntly.
"I thought so myself," she said with a smile, "until Tiger-tail told me
a little more about them. He says that they can breathe through the pores
of their skins; that their bodies are covered with a thick, silky hair,
and that when they dive they carry down with them enough air to form a
sort of skin over them, so that under water their bodies appear to be
silver-plated."
"Good Lord!" faltered Kemper. "That is a little too much!"
"Yet," said I, "that is exactly what air-breathing water beetles do. The
globules of air, clinging to the body-hairs, appear to silver-plate them;
and they can remain below indefinitely, breathing through spiracles.
Doubtless the skin pores of these men have taken on the character of
spiracles."
"You know," he said in a curious, flat voice, which sounded like
the tones of a partly stupified man, "this whole business is so
grotesque--apparently so wildly absurd--that it's having a sort of
nightmare effect on me." And, dropping his voice to a whisper close to
my ear: "Good heavens!" he said. "Can you reconcile such a creature as
we are starting out to hunt, with anything living known to science?"
"No," I replied in guarded tones. "And there are moments, Kemper, since
I have come into possession of Miss Grey's story, when I find myself
seriously doubting my own sanity."
"I'm doubting mine, now," he whispered, "only that girl is so fresh and
wholesome and human and sane--"
"She is a very clever girl," I said.
"And really beautiful!"
"She is intelligent," I remarked. There was a chill in my tone which
doubtless discouraged Kemper, for he ventured nothing further concerning
her superficially personal attractions.
After all, if any questions of priority were to arise, the pretty
waitress was _my_ discovery. And in the scientific world it is an
inflexible rule that he who first discovers any particular specimen of
any species whatever is first entitled to describe and comment upon that
specimen without interference or unsolicited advice from anybody.
Maybe there was in my eye something that expressed as much. For when
Kemper caught my cold gaze fixed upon him he winced and looked away like
a reproved setter dog who knew better. Which also, for the moment, put an
end to the rather gay and frivolous line of small talk which he had again
begun with the pretty waitress.