www.freeclassicebooks.com

"The launch!" cried Delcarte; and, indeed, it was the launch, floating down-river

from above us. Where had it been? How had we passed it? And how were we to

reach it now, should Snider and the girl discover us?

It's drifting," said Taylor. "I see no one in it."

I was stripping off my clothes, and Delcarte soon followed my example. I told

Taylor to remain on shore with the clothing and rifles. He might also serve us

better there, since it would give him an opportunity to take a shot at Snider

should the man discover us and show himself.

With powerful strokes we swam out in the path of the oncoming launch. Being a

stronger swimmer than Delcarte, I soon was far in the lead, reaching the center of

the channel just as the launch bore down upon me. It was drifting broadside on.

I seized the gunwale and raised myself quickly, so that my chin topped the side. I

expected a blow the moment that I came within the view of the occupants, but no

blow fell.

Snider lay upon his back in the bottom of the boat alone. Even before I had

clambered in and stooped above him I knew that he was dead. Without examining

him further, I ran forward to the control board and pressed the starting button.

To my relief, the mechanism responded--the launch was uninjured. Coming

about, I picked up Delcarte. He was astounded at the sight that met his eyes,

and immediately fell to examining Snider's body for signs of life or an explanation

of the manner in which he met his death.

The fellow had been dead for hours--he was cold and still. But Delcarte's search

was not without results, for above Snider's heart was a wound, a slit about an

inch in length--such a slit as a sharp knife would make, and in the dead fingers

of one hand was clutched a strand of long brown hair--Victory's hair was brown.

They say that dead men tell no tales, but Snider told the story of his end as

clearly as though the dead lips had parted and poured forth the truth. The beast

had attacked the girl, and she had defended her honor.

We buried Snider beside the Rhine, and no stone marks his last resting place.

Beasts do not require headstones.

Then we set out in the launch, turning her nose upstream. When I had told

Delcarte and Taylor that I intended searching for the girl, neither had demurred.

We had her wrong in our thoughts," said Delcarte, "and the least that we can do

in expiation is to find and rescue her."

The Lost Continent