my face against any surprise. And there I sat, chin on knees, the sun beating down upon my head and a growing dread in my mind, plotting how I could live on against the hour of my rescue (if ever rescue came). I tried to review the whole situation as calmly as I could, but it was impossible to clear the thing of emotion.
I began turning over in my mind the reason of Montgomery's despair. "They will change," he said. "They are sure to change." And Moreau—what was it that Moreau had said? "The stubborn beast flesh grows day by day back again.…" Then I came round to the Hyæna-Swine. I felt assured that if I did not kill that brute he would kill me.… The Sayer of the Law was dead—worse luck!… They knew now that we of the Whips could be killed, even as they themselves were killed.…
Were they peering at me already out of the green masses of ferns and palms over yonder—watching until I came within their spring? Were they plotting against me? What was the Hyæna-Swine telling them? My imagination was running away with me into a morass of unsubstantial fears.
My thoughts were disturbed by a crying of seabirds, hurrying towards some black object that had been stranded by the waves on the beach near the enclosure. I knew what that object was, but I had not the heart to go back and drive them off. I began walking along the beach in an opposite direction, designing to come round the eastward corner of the island, and so approach the ravine of the hut,
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