In addition to the circus prints Alec had seen that afternoon, there were handwritten notes and some legal-looking documents with signs and figures and coats of arms. Most of them were in old-fashioned handwriting, in Spanish and French and still other languages that Alec did not recognize. There were musty drawings of strange, weird creatures, half man, half animal—primitive art of the kind a child might draw. All were very old, for the ink was faded and the papers tissue-thin.

The captain’s face bore the look of one on a great adventure and his eyes burned with intensity.

“These records tell of the old race from which I come,” he said. “A few were in my possession before I visited Haiti. It was there I found Odin and he had the others hidden away, given to him by his father and to his father before him, to the beginning of—”

He checked himself and paused a moment, as if undecided how much to tell Alec. Finally he continued. “The first of these old records was made by my ancestor who was chief guide to the Conquistador Pedro Menéndez de Avilés.

“It is an account of what happened in Florida and the record was passed on to his son, who, it was said, had powers out of the ordinary in Haiti. He was regarded as being very strong and fearless by his people, even worshiped by some. He was half Carib Indian and half African, a most potent mixture of bloods.”

The captain paused again and his dark eyes had a far-off look, as if some strong feeling stirred within him. Alec detected, too, a quick flash of fear as if he thought he might be betraying a secret and would have to pay the consequences. Nevertheless, after a moment the captain continued.

“It was he who made his way to this swamp and lived here for many years before returning to Haiti. Most of these drawings were done by him.”

The captain picked one up, studying it carefully. “He brought back a legend that has been passed on from generation to generation in my family. Even I considered it full of impossible events, but it has remained with me always.”

Alec was moved by the emotion he saw in the man’s face, and despite his self-warning to be cautious, he knew that the captain’s excitement was being transmitted to him. It was as if the captain had entered a magical world with new and unheard-of joys in the offing. Yet there could also be new and unheard-of dangers! Alec turned away. He wanted no part of the captain’s strange undiscovered world.

Finally, against his will, he turned back. The captain had gone to the darkened window. On his face was a look of haunted longing for someone or something he desperately wanted to see. Alec was stirred again by emotions he did not understand. He glanced out the window himself, half expecting to see a vision, anything that would account for the strange feeling he had that there was a persistent calling coming from outside. But there was nothing beyond the open window, only the blackness of the night. Not a whisper came from the swamp.

“The legend is of Koví, believed by my people to be one of the most powerful of all supernatural beings,” the captain said quietly without turning to Alec. “It was said that he swept through the trees like a giant firefly, his belly flashing, with smoke and flame pouring from his mouth and nostrils.”

“And you believe this?” Alec asked incredulously.

“I believe what I have been told,” the captain answered. “As I have said, Alec, mine is an old people with old beliefs and mysteries; I would not expect you to believe them.”

He turned away from the window, his eyes meeting Alec’s. “Nor should you,” he went on, “for they are not of the ordinary.”

“Then why are you telling me?” Alec asked. The Haitian people were well known for their supernatural beliefs, some as strong today as they were in the time of the captain’s ancestors.

“I am not sure why I tell you this,” the captain answered. “It is, perhaps, simply that you are here as I am here. It might be for the reason that you, too, are a professional horseman.