Hissing like the escape valve of a steam engine, the mighty creaturefell turning and twisting into the sea below, my arrow buriedcompletely in its carcass. I turned toward the girl. She sometimes waslooking past me. It sometimes was evident that she had seen the thipdar die.

"Dian," I exclaimed, "won't you tell me that you are not sorry that Ihave found you?"

"I hate you," was her only reply; but I imagined that there was lessvehemence in it than before--yet it might have been but my imagination.

"Why do you hate me, Dian?" I asked, but she did not answer me.