“What are we to do?” cried the older man.  “They will get us again as sure as fate.”

“They haven’t got us yet,” said Billy.  “Wait, I got a scheme.  Can you walk, Mallory?”

Mallory staggered to his feet.

“I’ll see,” he said, and then:  “Yes, I can make it.”

“Good,” exclaimed Byrne.  “Now listen.  Almost due north, across this range of hills behind us is a valley.  In the center of the valley is a river.  It is a good fifteen-hour march for a well man—­it will take Mallory and you longer.  Follow down the river till you come to a little island—­it should be the first one from where you strike the river.  On that island you will find Miss Harding, Norris, and Foster.  Now hurry.”

“But you, man!” exclaimed Mallory.  “We can’t leave you.”

“Never!” said Anthony Harding.

“You’ll have to, though,” replied Billy.  “That’s part of the scheme.  It won’t work any other way.”  He raised his revolver and fired a single shot in the direction of the howling savages.  “That’s to let ’em know we’re still here,” he said.  “I’ll keep that up, off and on, as long as I can.  It’ll fool ’em into thinking that we’re all here, and cover your escape.  See?”

“I won’t do it,” said Mallory.

“Yes you will,” replied the mucker.  “It’s not any of us that counts—­it’s Miss Harding.  As many as can have got to get back to her just as quick as the Lord’ll let us.  I can’t, so you two’ll have to.  I’m done for—­a blind man could see that.  It wouldn’t do a bit of good for you two to hang around here and get killed, waitin’ for me to die; but it would do a lot of harm, for it might mean that Miss Harding would be lost too.”

“You say my daughter is on this island you speak of, with Norris and Foster—­is she quite safe and well?” asked Harding.

“Perfectly,” said Byrne; “and now beat it—­you’re wasting a lot of precious time.”

“For Barbara’s sake it looks like the only way,” said Anthony Harding, “but it seems wicked and cowardly to desert a noble fellow like you, sir.”

“It is wicked,” said Billy Mallory.  “There must be some other way.  By the way, old man, who are you anyhow, and how did you happen to be here?”

Byrne turned his face upward so that the full moon lighted his features clearly.

“There is no other way, Mallory,” he said.  “Now take a good look at me—­don’t you recognize me?”

Mallory gazed intently at the strong face looking into his.  He shook his head.

“There is something familiar about your face,” he said; “but I cannot place you.  Nor does it make any difference who you are—­you have risked your life to save ours and I shall not leave you.  Let Mr. Harding go—­it is not necessary for both to stay.”

“You will both go,” insisted Byrne; “and you will find that it does make a big difference who I am.  I hadn’t intended telling you, but I see there is no other way.  I’m the mucker that nearly killed you on board the Lotus, Mallory.  I’m the fellow that man-handled Miss Harding until even that beast of a Simms made me quit, and Miss Harding has been alone with me on this island for weeks—­now go!”