Excerpt from Splinters, Vol. 7: December, 1906
When the others of the party arrived in their slower canoes, we were so busy collecting drift-wood for our fire that I forgot all about the two bicycles and did not say anything to the girls about them.
After our salt plunge, we all sat around the fire telling stories, toasting marshmallows, and drying our hair. For some reason or other my hair was very long in the process, so I stayed by the fire while the others walked up the beach a little way and sat down to enjoy the moon.
I must have been half asleep, when suddenly I became conscious that someone was looking intently at me, compelling me to look up. As I fearfully raised my eyes, I encountered the fixed gaze of the most horrible looking man imaginable. His face was bloated, his eyes blood-shot, across his forehead was a long, nasty gash, and he grinned across the fire at me with an open, toothless mouth. I lay there perfectly fascinated for what seemed to me an eternity, unable to take my eyes from his face. Finally with a kick at a burning log, which had just fallen from the fire, he walked off down the beach.
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