Part-4
Toward midnight I the of breakers on our bow. Evelyn them, too, and sat up inquiringly.
"Grue has the to Black Bayou, I suppose," said I.
And it proved to be the case, for, with the on either hand, we into a through which the was high all in the moonlight and with palms.
Occasionally I ahead of us from the other boat, as though Kemper was trying to with us, but as his was as as it was inopportune, I not to him. Besides, I had all I do to the and prevent Evelyn Grey from off into the bayou. Besides, it is not to with the man at the helm.
After a while—during which I to in Kemper's voice a quality that with his name—his through phases all the way from to exasperation. After a while he gave it up and took to singing.
There was a moon, and I he he had a voice. It didn't me so. After songs, he let off his pistol two or three times and then into silence.
I didn't care; neither his his interrupted—but let that pass, also.
We were now into the through after of lagoons, into and hundreds of waterfowl. I the wind from their in the darkness, as they by us out to sea. It to the waitress. It is a thing to be for a girl's peace of mind. I her continually, a nervously. But there were no more pistol shots. Perhaps Kemper had used up his cartridges.
We were still along under sails, almost by the tide, when the pale, watery, light the east. When it a little lighter, Evelyn sat up; all of being over. Also, I to see what was going on in the other boat. Which was nothing remarkable; Kemper against the mast, his in our direction; Grue sat at the helm, motionless, his on his neck.
When the sun rose, I called out to Kemper, him how he had passed the night. Evelyn also her head, while her under discipline, to to his reply.
But he something. Perhaps he was still sleepy.
As for me, I well; and when Grue his in shore, I did so, too; and when, under the of the forest, the nose of my on the sand, I rose and the with a step frolicsome.
Kemper and glum; Evelyn Grey spoke to him now and then, and I noticed she looked at him only when he was than at her. She had a funny, air with him, ashamed, and amused, as though something about Kemper's ill-humour was making on her gravity.
Some had jumped into the two boats—half a dozen our moonlight voyage—and these were now being with rice for us by Grue. Lord! How I to eat them!
After we had breakfast, Grue, as usual, did to the to into the fry-pan with feet; and as he me.
When he'd up everything, I sent him off into the to a shell-mound for purposes; then I fast boats, and Kemper and I our paraphernalia, batterie-de-cuisine, firearms, tackle, spears, harpoons, grains, oars, sails, spars, cage—everything with which a scientific is burdened.
Evelyn was her in the of a branch that into the from under the live-oaks. She looked very doing it, like a or away at her toilet.
It was, in fact, such a that I was going over to her while she did it, but Kemper started just when I was going to, and I away. Some men do the thing. But a man doesn't last long with a girl.
I was of this as I an slide, when Grue came saying that the on which we had was the of a shell-mound, and that it was the only place he had found.
So I him our a from the shore; and him while he did so, one occasionally to Evelyn Grey and Kemper. They were seated cross-legged the branch, and they to be talking a great and earnestly. I couldn't what they to talk about so and all of a sudden, as they had very a most and acquaintance, only from the day before.
Grue set up our three tents, the inland, and then about for a while until the of a across the trees.
I saw such an on a as I saw on Grue's as he looked up at the huge, bird. His glittered; the of his mouth and wet; and to my he to a low, noise.
"What the are you doing?" I said impulsively, in my and disgust.
He looked at me, his still glittering, the of his mouth still wet; but the had ceased.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing. I you spoke." I didn't know what else to say.
He no reply. Once, when I had my head, I was aware that he was his to look at the vulture, which had on the ground near the and of the mullet, where he had them on the leaves.
I walked over to where Evelyn Grey and Kemper sat so conversing; and their as they up and saw me approaching. Which and me.
I said:
"This is the Black Bayou forest, and we have the most of our us. Suppose you and I start out, Kemper, and see if there are any of what we are after in the neighborhood of our camp."
"Do you think it safe to Miss Grey alone in camp?" he asked gravely.
I hadn't of that:
"No, of not," I said. "Grue can stay."
"I don't need anybody," she said quickly. "Anyway, I'm of Grue."
"Afraid of Grue?" I repeated.
"Not afraid. But he's—unpleasant."
"I'll with Miss Grey," said Kemper politely.
"Oh," she exclaimed, "I couldn't ask that. It is true that I a little and nervous, but I can go with you and Mr. Smith and Grue—"
I Kemper in cold perplexity. As of the expedition, I couldn't very well offer to with Evelyn Grey, but I didn't that Kemper should, either.
"Take Grue," he suggested, "and look about the for a while. Perhaps after dinner Miss Grey may rested to join us."
"I am sure," she said, "that a hours' in will set me on my feet. All I need is rest. I didn't sleep very last night."
I myself red, and I looked away from them both.
"Oh," said Kemper, in surprise, "I you had slept all night long."
"Nobody," said I, "could have slept very that performance of yours."
"Were you singing?" she asked of Kemper.
"He was when he wasn't off his pistol," I remarked. "No wonder you couldn't sleep with any to yourself."
Grue had into the forest; I for him to come out again. After a minutes I a but noise of flapping; the others also it; and we in silence, what it was.
"It's Grue killing something," Evelyn Grey, a pale.
"Confound it!" I exclaimed. "I'm going to stop that right now."
Kemper rose and me as I started for the woods; but as we passed the Grue appeared from among the trees.
"Where have you been?" I demanded.
"In the woods."
"Doing what?"
"Nothing."
There was a of here and there to his shirt and trousers, and one had and at the of his mouth.
"See here, Grue," I said, "I don't want you to kill any for purposes. Why do you try to catch and kill birds?"
"I don't."
I at the man and he at me out of his eyes.
"You to say that you don't, somehow or other, manage to catch and kill birds?"
"No, I don't."
There was nothing for me to say unless I gave him the lie. I didn't to do that, needing his services.
Evelyn Grey had come up to join us; there was a silence; we all looking at Grue; and he looked at us out of his pale, washed-out, and eyes.
"Grue," I said, "I haven't yet to you the object of this to Black Bayou. Now, I'll tell you what I want. But let me ask you a question or two. You know the Black Bayou forests, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Did you see anything in these forests?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
The man at us, one after another. Then he said:
"What are you looking for in Black Bayou?"
"Something very curious, very strange, very unusual. So and unusual, in fact, that the great Zoölogical Society of the Bronx in New York has sent me here at the of this to search the of Black Bayou."
"For what?" he demanded, in a dull, voice.
"For a totally new of being, Grue. I wish to catch one and take it to New York in that cage."
His green had narrow as though sun-dazzled. Kemper had us into the and was now setting up the cage. Grue motionless.
"I am going to offer you," I said, "the of one thousand in gold if you can us to a spot where we may see this unknown species—a which is a man but which has, in the of his head, a third eye—"
I paused in amazement: Grue's had out and were quivering; and from the of his mouth he was a like the noise by a low-circling pigeon.
"Grue!" I cried. "What's the with you?"
"What is he doing?" Grue, from to foot, but not around.
"Who?" I cried.
"The man me!"
"Professor Kemper? He's setting up the cage—"
With a that my hair, Grue out his knife and himself at Kemper, but the the cage, and Grue around, snarling, hacking, and at the and bars.
And then a thing so that it me to the of my stomach; for the man's had off, and there, in the of his head, through the coarse, black, hair, I saw a at me.
"Kemper!" I shouted. "He's got a third eye! He's one of them! Knock him with your riflestock!" And I a shot-gun from the top of the on the ground me, and at Grue, a at him.
"'Kemper!' I shouted.... 'He is one of them! Knock him with your riflestock!'"
But the in the of his was me the of hair, and he Kemper and me, his knife in circles and at us out of the and of his head.
Kemper him by his arm, but Grue's shirt came off, and I saw his entire was as as an ape's. And all the while he was at us and and to avoid our blows; and from the of his he and and through the foam.
"Keep him from the water!" I panted, him with shot-gun; and as I I almost on a of foulness—the which he had and to death with his teeth.
Suddenly he his knife at my head, it backward; dodged, screeched, and by me toward the of the lagoon, where the was standing, petrified.
For one moment I he had her, but she up her skirts, ran for the nearest boat, and a harpoon; and in his to catch her he clear over the and with a into the lagoon.
As Kemper and I and looked over into the water, we see him going out of of a harpoon; and his to be silver-plated, and like a eel, so did the skin of air him, there by the that him.
And, as he rested for a moment on the bottom, through the clear of the where he prone, I see, as the his long, black hair, the third looking up at us, glassy, unwinking, horrible.
A or two, like of quicksilver, were from the skin of air that him, and came upward.
Suddenly there was a flash; a cloud of mud; and Grue was gone.
After a long while I around in the of my despair. And slowly froze.
For the waitress, pale, was in Kemper's arms, her against his shoulder. Neither to be aware of me.
"Darling," he said, in the voice of a man in love, "why do you so when I am here to protect you? Don't you love and trust me?"
"Oo—h—yes," she sighed, pressing her closer to his shoulder.
I my hands into my pockets, passed them without noticing them, and ashore.
And there I sat under a tree, with my toward them, all alone and to with the of my life.
But which it was—the of her or the of Grue, I had not yet up my mind.
