Manchurian Books

Its occupant took a long puff
at his cigarette, waved a cheerful hand, shouted a greeting. And just
as he did so a great wave raised itself up behind him, took the
wreckage, tossed it high in a swelter of foam, and passed on. When we
had steadied our boat, where wreck and man had been was--nothing.
There came a tug at the side--, two muscular brown hands gripped it
close to my left, and a sleek, black, wet head showed its top between
them. Two bright, blue eyes that held deep within them a laughing
deviltry looked into mine, and a long, lithe body drew itself gently
over the thwart and seated its dripping self at my feet.
"Much obliged," said this man from the sea. "I knew somebody was sure
to come along when the O'Keefe banshee didn't show up."
"The what?" I asked in amazement.
"The O'Keefe banshee--I'm Larry O'Keefe. It's a far way from Ireland,
but not too far for the O'Keefe banshee to travel if the O'Keefe was
going to click in."
I looked again at my astonishing rescue. He seemed perfectly serious.


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