“Farewell, place of ill-luck!” cried Pearce, as the schooner bore away before the rising evening breeze. “May I never set my eyes on such evil shores again.”

“Then you will not come back to seek the treasure?” asked Venner, with a shadowy flicker of a smile.

“Not for a thousand times the treasure that lies there!” cried Pearse vehemently. “And I have seen it! The horror of this will haunt me until my dying day. I only hope God will look kindly upon that poor woman, that’s all.”

“I hope so, too,” rejoined Venner thoughtfully. “With a white woman’s opportunities, what a woman she could have been.”

But the gods are inscrutable.