"You must come ashore with us," said the man in the bow.
I was close enough now so that I could get a good look at the fellow. I had thought at first that they were some more of Skor's living dead, but now I saw that this fellow's cheeks had the hue of health and blood.
"We will not come with you," I called back to him. "Leave us alone; we are not harming you. Let us go our way in peace."
"You will come ashore with us," said the man, as his boat drew closer.
"Keep away, or I'll kill you!" I cried, fitting an arrow to my bow.
The fellow laughed—a dry, mirthless laugh. Then it was that I saw his eyes, and a cold chill swept over me. They were the dead eyes of a corpse!
I loosed an arrow. It drove straight through the creature's chest, but he only laughed again and left the arrow sticking there.
"Do you not know," cried Nalte, "that you cannot kill the dead?" She stepped to the far side of the raft. "Good-by, Carson," she said quietly; "the last second is here!"
"No! No, Nalte!" I cried. "Wait! It is not the last second."