ing and the sound of the reef came through the skylight, slumbrous and indifferent, but other sound or movement there was none till Le Moan, stretched still on the table, turned, raised herself on her elbow and understood. Then she dropped on to the floor. Rantan lay half on top of Carlin and Kanoa lay by Rantan.
Kanoa’s grip had relaxed and he seemed asleep. He roused as the girl touched him; the fury and wild excitement had passed, he seemed dazed; then recovering himself he sat up, then he rose to his feet. As he rose Rantan moved slightly, he was not dead and Le Moan kneeling on the body of Carlin seized the sheet that was hanging from the bunk, dragged it towards her and handed it to Kanoa.
“Bind him,” said Le Moan, “he is not dead, let him be for my people to deal with him as they deal with the dog-fish.”
As they bound him from the shoulders to the hands a voice came from above. It was the voice of Poni who had come to listen and who heard Le Moan’s voice and words.
“Kanoa,” cried Poni, “what is going on below there?”
“Coward!” cried Le Moan, “come and see. Come and help now that the work is done.”
“Ay,” said Kanoa the valorous, “come and help now that the work is done.”
Then, kneeling by the bound figure of Rantan, he gazed on the girl, consuming her with his eyes, rap-
