The Flying Death
 “Oh, you’re not quite yourself yet,” said Colton. 

 “I tell you I hear eet!” broke out the man with extraordinary vehemence. “I feel eet! What? I do not know. But when eet come back”—he made a motion as of a winged creature swooping—“I fear an’ I jump into ze waves.” A harsh tremour went through his frame and left him panting. 

 “You jumped?” said Johnston. “When she broke up?” 

 “No. Before. Before she break.” 

 “He’s crazy,” said the old life-saver. “What’d you jump for?” 

 “Eet come after me,” shuddered the man. Again he made that extraordinary gesture. “Take me to a house—out of ze night.” 

 “Someone must go with him to the station,” said Colton. 

 “Let me,” Helga Johnston volunteered. 

 The stranger faced the girl, and advanced a swift step. It was a meeting of satyr and goddess. Suddenly the satyr cast himself at the goddess’ feet and kissed them. Startled, she drew back. 

 “Eet is you that safe me!” he cried, lifting wild and adoring eyes to her. “I see you just before all go black. You walk out on ze wave to reach me.” 

 “Come along, you!” cried old Johnston, lifting him to his feet. “No such heathen goin’s-on for my Helga. Not that I think you know what you’re doin’,” he added. 

 “You mustn’t go with him alone, Princess,” said Haynes quickly. “He seems to be insane.” 

 “Father will go with me,” she replied; “though I’m safe enough. It isn’t there the danger lies.” 

 “Helga,” said Haynes seriously, “I wish you wouldn’t let yourself be so influenced by your dreams.” 

 “I’ll try not to, Petit Père,” said the girl gently. “But, look how it has all come about. Yet I can’t see how a strange creature like that could possibly influence all our lives.” 

 “You don’t half believe it yourself,” said Haynes positively. 

 “Sometimes I don’t,” she agreed. “But we who are born of the sea, dream the sea’s dreams, you know, Petit Père.” 

 “Well, get into dry clothes as soon as you get to the station, Princess. Oh, and get me that fellow’s name and address, will you?” 


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