We gazed intently at the island.

Suddenly, on the sea-wall, moving slowly, rhythmically, we saw a little group of lights.

Stanton laughed.
"'The beggars!' he exclaimed.

'That's why they wanted to get away, is it?
Don't you see, Dave, it's some sort of a festival--rites of some kind that they hold during the full moon! That's why they were so eager to have us _keep_ away, too.' "The explanation seemed good.

I felt a curious sense of relief, although I had not been sensible of any oppression.
"'Let's slip over,' suggested Stanton--but I would not.
"'They're a difficult lot as it is,' I said.