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Updated: May 10, 2025
This observation seemed to end our postprandial and tripartite conference; Miss Barrison retired to her stateroom presently; after a last cigar, smoked almost in silence, the young man and I bade each other a civil good-night and retired to our respective berths.
"I want to mitigate the blow," I said, hoarsely. "Tell me how." "I'm sure I don't know," she said, sweetly. "Well, I do!" I fairly barked, and seizing the megaphone again, I set it to my lips and roared, "My fiancée!" "Good gracious!" exclaimed Miss Barrison, in consternation, "I thought you were going to tell the truth!"
"It is absolute truth," he replied. I rose and went off to find pad and pencil. When I returned Miss Barrison was laughing at a story which the young man had just finished. "But," he ended, gravely, "I have practically decided to renounce fiction as a means of livelihood and confine myself to simple, uninteresting statistics and facts." "I am very glad to hear you say that," I exclaimed, warmly.
And I dreamed of moths with brilliant eyes and vast silvery wings harnessed to a balloon in which Miss Barrison and I sat, arms around each other, eating slice after slice of apple-pie. Dawn came the dawn of a day that I am destined never to forget. Long, rosy streamers of light broke through the forest, shaking, quivering, like unstable beams from celestial search-lights.
Miss Barrison came next, carrying the trousseau, the tank, hose, and chemicals; and the dog followed her probably not from affection for us, but because he was afraid to be left alone. We walked in silence, the professor and I keeping an instinctive lookout for snakes; but we encountered nothing of that sort.
I sprang to my feet just as the professor, jamming on his spectacles, leaned forward and slammed the cage door. "I've got one!" he shouted, frantically. "There's one in the cage! Turn on that hose!" "Wait a second," said Miss Barrison, calmly, uncorking the bottle and pouring a pearly stream of rosium oxide into the tank. "Quick! It's fizzing! Screw on the top!"
The young man hesitated, looking long and earnestly at Miss Barrison. "Did you marry her?" she asked, softly. "You wouldn't believe it," said the young man, earnestly "you wouldn't believe it, after all that happened, if I should tell you that she married Professor Bruce Stoddard, of Columbia would you?" "Yes, I would," said Miss Barrison. "You never can tell what a girl will do."
The heat became intense; Miss Barrison went to her room to change her gown for a lighter one; I sat down under a live-oak, eyes and ears strained for any sign of our invisible neighbors. When she emerged in the lightest and filmiest of summer gowns, she brought the camera with her; and for a while we took pictures of each other, until we had used up all but one film.
It's a clear case of fright," he said, gravely. "I wanted a dog to aid me in trailing these remarkable creatures, but I think this dog of yours is useless, Gilland." "It's given us warning of the creatures' presence twice already," I argued. "Poor little thing," said Miss Barrison, softly; "I don't know why, but I love that dog.... He has eyes like yours, Mr. Gilland "
Suddenly, without apparent reason, the squirrel sprang to a tree-trunk, hung a moment on the bark, quivering all over, then dashed away into the jungle. "Why did he act like that?" whispered Miss Barrison. And, after a moment: "How still it is! Where have the birds gone?" In the ominous silence the dog began to whimper in his sleep and his hind legs kicked convulsively. "He's dreaming " I began.
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