And it was not Nawadlook! He stood up and stepped out from his hiding-place.

The slender figure of the girl on the log turned a little, and he saw the glint of golden sunshine in her hair.

He called out.
"Keok!" Was he mad?
Had the sickness in his head turned his brain?
And then: "Mary!" he called.

"_Mary Standish_!" She turned.

And in that moment Alan Holt's face was the color of gray rock.