In his hand there glistened, in the yellow rays of the lamp, a blued-steel revolver.
"Don't get angry, captain.

It's bad for the digestion," grinned the castaway.

"Now," he went on, "I'm going to tell you flat that if you say I came to your island to-night, you're dreaming.

It must have been some one else.
"Come on, boys," directed the captain, with an angry shrug.

"There's no use wastin' time on the critter.