To my mind there are only two chances left for us now.

One is to concoct with the Frenchman some means of getting away by canoe from the island--I'd rather trust the sea than the tender mercy of these dreadful people; the other is to keep a closer lookout than ever for the merest chance of a passing steamer." Felix drew a deep sigh.

"I'm afraid neither's much use," he said.

"If we tried to get away, dogged as we are, day and night, by our Shadows, the natives would follow us with their war-canoes in battle array and hack us to pieces; for Peyron says that, regarding us as gods, they think the rain would vanish from their island forever if once they allowed us to get away alive and carry the luck with us.

And as to the steamers, we haven't seen a trace of one since we left the Australasian.