He walked down the beach straight to where he hadleft me lying， and I had a fleeting feeling of regret at notbeing able to see his surprise when he did not find me. Butit was a very fleeting regret， for my teeth were chatteringwith the cold.
What his movements were after that I had largely todeduce from the facts of the situation， for I could scarcelysee him in the dim starlight. But I was sure that the firstthing he did was to make the circuit of the beach to learnif landings had been made by other boats. This he wouldhave known at once by the tracks through the mud.
Convinced that no boat had removed me from theisland， he next started to find out what had become of me.
Beginning at the pile of clamshells， he lighted matchesto trace my tracks in the sand. At such times I could seehis villanous face plainly， and， when the sulphur from thematches irritated his lungs， between the raspy cough thatfollowed and the clammy mud in which I was lying， Iconfess I shivered harder than ever.
The multiplicity of my footprints puzzled him. Thenthe idea that I might be out in the mud must have struckhim， for he waded out a few yards in my direction， and，stooping， with his eyes searched the dim surface long andcarefully. He could not have been more than fifteen feetfrom me， and had he lighted a match he would surely havediscovered me.
He returned to the beach and clambered about， overthe rocky backbone， again hunting for me with lightedmatches， The closeness of the shave impelled me tofurther flight. Not daring to wade upright， on account ofthe noise made by floundering and by the suck of the mud，I remained lying down in the mud and propelled myselfover its surface by means of my hands. Still keeping thetrail made by the Chinese in going from and to the junk，I held on until I reached the water. Into this I waded to adepth of three feet， and then I turned off to the side on aline parallel with the beach.
The thought came to me of going toward YellowHandkerchief ’s skiff and escaping in it， but at that verymoment he returned to the beach， and， as though fearingthe very thing I had in mind， he slushed out through themud to assure himself that the skiff was safe. This turnedme in the opposite direction. Half swimming， half wading，with my head just out of water and avoiding splashing，I succeeded in putting about a hundred feet betweenmyself and the spot where the Chinese had begun to wadeashore from the junk. I drew myself out on the mud andremained lying flat.
Again Yellow Handkerchief returned to the beach andmade a search of the island， and again he returned tothe heap of clam-shells. I knew what was running in hismind as well as he did himself. No one could leave or landwithout making tracks in the mud. The only tracks to beseen were those leading from his skiff and from where thejunk had been. I was not on the island. I must have left itby one or the other of those two tracks. He had just beenover the one to his skiff， and was certain I had not left thatway. Therefore I could have left the island only by goingover the tracks of the junk landing. This he proceeded toverify by wading out over them himself， lighting matchesas he came along.
When he arrived at the point where I had first lain， I knew， by the matches he burned and the time he took，that he had discovered the marks left by my body. Thesehe followed straight to the water and into it， but in threefeet of water he could no longer see them. On the otherhand， as the tide was still falling， he could easily make outthe impression made by the junk’s bow， and could havelikewise made out the impression of any other boat if ithad landed at that particular spot. But there was no suchmark； and I knew that he was absolutely convinced that Iwas hiding somewhere in the mud.