It was bright daylight when a man's voice recalled me to consciousness.
I was lying where I had fallen, and the farmer was standing in the room
with the loaves of bread in his hands. The horror of the night was still
in my heart, and as the bluff settler helped me to my feet and picked up
the rifle which had fallen with me, with many questions and expressions
of condolence, I imagine my brief replies were neither self-explanatory
nor even intelligible.

That day, after a thorough and fruitless search of the house, I left the
island, and went over to spend my last ten days with the farmer; and
when the time came for me to leave, the necessary reading had been
accomplished, and my nerves had completely recovered their balance.

On the day of my departure the farmer started early in his big boat with
my belongings to row to the point, twelve miles distant, where a little
steamer ran twice a week for the accommodation of hunters. Late in the
afternoon I went off in another direction in my canoe, wishing to see
the island once again, where I had been the victim of so strange an
experience.

In due course I arrived there, and made a tour of the island. I also
made a search of the little house, and it was not without a curious
sensation in my heart that I entered the little upstairs bedroom. There
seemed nothing unusual.

Just after I re-embarked, I saw a canoe gliding ahead of me around the
curve of the island. A canoe was an unusual sight at this time of the
year, and this one seemed to have sprung from nowhere. Altering my
course a little, I watched it disappear around the next projecting point
of rock. It had high curving bows, and there were two Indians in it. I