could have disappeared from Cookie's vision as did the ghostly pig.

For a moment I wavered in my determination. What if the island had
its wild creatures after all? But neither lynx nor panther nor any
other beast of prey is white, except a polar bear, and it would be
unusual to meet one on a tropical island.

I decided that Cookie's pig was after all a pig, though still in
the flesh. I thought I remembered having seen quite fair pigs,
which would pass for white with a frightened negro in the dim light
of dawn. So far only black pigs had been visible, but perhaps the
light ones were shyer and kept to the remote parts of the island.
I consoled Cookie as best I could by promising to cross my fingers
if I heard or saw anything suspicious, and struck out into the
woods,

For all my brave words to Cookie, I had no intention of going very
far afield. From the shore of the cove I had observed that the
ground behind the clearing rose to the summit of a low ridge,
perhaps four hundred feet in height, which jutted from the base of
the peak. From this ridge I thought I might see something more of
the island than the limited environment of Lantern Bay.

As the woods shut out the last glimpse of the white tents in the
clearing, as even the familiar sound of the surf died down to a
faint, half-imagined whisper mingling with the rustling of the
palms overhead, I experienced a certain discomfort, which persons
given to harsh and unqualified terms might have called fear. It
seemed to me as if a very strong cord at the rear of my belt were
jerking me back toward the inglorious safety of camp. Fortunately