"Well—for one thing, my companion died of fright."
"Fright? What at?"
"Well, there's something in there."
"What?"
He fixed a penetrating gaze on me. "I don't know, Mr. Gilland."
"Did you see anything to frighten you?" I insisted.
"No, but I felt something." He dropped his cigarette and ground it into the sand viciously. "To cut it short," he said, "I am most unwillingly led to believe that there are—creatures—of some sort in the Everglades—living creatures quite as large as you or I—and that they are perfectly transparent—as transparent as a colorless jellyfish."
Instantly the veiled import of Professor Farrago's letter was made clear to me. He, too, believed that.
"It embarrasses me like the devil to say such a thing," continued Rowan, digging in the sand with his spurred heels. "It seems so—so like a whopping lie—it seems so childish and ridiculous—so cursed cheap! But I fled; and there you are. I might add," he said, indifferently, "that I have the ordinary portion of courage allotted to normal men."
"But what do you believe these—these animals to be?" I asked, fascinated.