with twin rakish masts, to cast anchor in the bay. Again she wanted to call the men, but she told herself it was all a part of her dream, and tried to fall asleep.
She was successful at last, and one by one the constellations wheeled on their way, those left in the blue field of the sky, paling at last in the golden-green light that comes in the East just before dawn.
The birds were in full chorus when she awoke.
Rising, she left the hut, walking around the still sleeping figures of the men, and sought the spring, to charm away with the shock of its silver waters the dark figures of her dreams.
But she paused at the brink and looked through the trunks of the palms.
It was not a dream!
Black, rakish and mysterious, there, at anchor, lay the strange craft.
The sun looked over the mountain. The slender vessel looked very real in the morning light. Little figures were climbing down the ladder; a boat shot from her side. Over the waters came the creak of the oarlocks. Back and forth swung the oars. Back and forth went the backs of the rowers. Now the nose of the boat swished in the sand and the figures leaped out. One was darkly dressed, slender and very tall; the middle one, burly with a fighter's crouch; on the end advanced a short man, a little bowed, and evidently old, but full of energy. Even at the distance she did not like their faces.
They came nearer and she hid behind the trunk of a palm,
