They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. He was amused. What else was there lurked in shadows and deep places; if in some mood of reverie it came out into the light, it was presently overwhelmed and hustled back again into hiding. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip.
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