Manchurian Books

"Do you?"
He fidgeted, avoided my eyes, and then rapidly, almost surreptitiously
crossed himself.
"No," he replied. "I know nothing. Some things I have heard--but
they tell many tales on these seas."
He started for the door. Before he reached it he turned. "But this I
do know," he half whispered, "I am damned glad there is no full moon
tonight." And passed out, leaving me staring after him in amazement.
What did the Portuguese know?
I bent over the sleeper. On his face was no trace of that unholy
mingling of opposites the Dweller stamped upon its victims.
And yet--what was it the Norseman had said?
"The sparkling devil took them!" Nay, he had been even more
explicit--"The sparkling devil that came down from the moon!"
Could it be that the Dweller had swept upon the Brunhilda, drawing
down the moon path Olaf Huldricksson's wife and babe even as it had
drawn Throckmartin?
As I sat thinking the cabin grew suddenly dark and from above came a
shouting and patter of feet. Down upon us swept one of the abrupt,
violent squalls that are met with in those latitudes.


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