ing in single file toward a rugged border.
"That night we camped in a ravine on a little grassy flat protected on two sides by the crumbling walls of the cut. We were not yet out of the jungle, and the surrounding wilderness, with its screams of winged creatures and its dank tropical odors, was in direct contrast to the country above, where the mountains swept up and up into a cap of the clouds."
Graves paused. The marble floor in the middle of the dining-room was filled with dancing couples whirling around in a flash of colors to the strains of voluptuous music emanating from among the gilt and brocades where a concealed orchestra played unceasingly. One wondered who they were and where they all came from, these expensively dressed, apparently refined though only veneered girls, whirling about with the pleasantest-looking young men who expertly guided them through the mazes of the one-step and waltz and a dozen other steps that I knew not of. All around us the atmosphere seemed vibrant with laughter and music. But it went unheeded. We were in a different world.
My companion looked at me doubtfully as he lit a cigarette. He seemed perplexed, as if he was about to make some extraordinary statement, something I could not imagine or believe.
"That night," he shot out, "occurred a strange thing.
"We had built a huge fire in the opening of our rocky shelter, that any prowling animals might be kept at bay. Beyond the fire, yellow-green spots of flame appeared, moved about restlessly, disappeared and reappeared, accompanied by hideous growls and screams as the hungry beasts and screeching night birds were attracted by the light of our campfire.
"But to such things we had become calloused. We talked unconcernedly, as we might have done in more domesticated surroundings. The fire crackled cheerily. The owners of the yellow-green eyes raised their frightful chorus to the heavens.
"Suddenly the moon, which had been shining brightly, was obscured by a cloud. Darkness enclosed us like a shroud. And then as though the hand of death had reached out and touched us, we all tensed into rigidity, being frozen by some strange species of terror or awe. Above the diapason of the teeming forest we heard a dismal flapping of wings, and overhead through the thick night a shadowy form passed across the diffused light of the flaring campfire. I felt a strange creeping sensation run over my flesh as the horrible something flapped itself across the sky. An eery wail floated down from above, and the apparition, whatever it might have been, was swallowed up by the darkness. For several minutes we heard the sounds of those dismally flapping wings lessening in the distance until they could no longer be heard.
"I glanced toward Seton, who was gazing into the darkness above. He mumbled something about a vampire bat and walked toward the tent with an air of finality. Clara was still silent, but when I turned to her I found her big eyes fixed upon me with an expression in which there was pleading, in which there was something else—something indefinable, yet strangely disturbing.
"'It is a sign,' she said, slowly, 'someone is going to die!'
"Though I don't think I am any more cowardly than the average man, I wasn't feeling any too comfortable that night. The very atmosphere seemed charged with something sinister. Secret and malign forces seemed to throb about us—forces against which we had no armor. As Clara Seton spoke, I felt as one bound upon an Aztec altar,
