"I have no objection," murmured Ridgeway, a chill striking deep into his heart.



CHAPTER XIV

ONE LOVE AGAINST ANOTHER

Ridgeway passed another sleepless night. Had not Veath said he could win her love, even though it were pledged to another? The thought gave birth to a fear that he was not perfectly sure of her love, and that it might turn to Henry Veath, after all. In the early morning hours, between snatches of sleep, he decided to ask Lady Huntingford's advice, after explaining to her the dilemma in full. He would also tell Grace of Veath's declaration, putting her on guard. Breakfast time found the sea heavy and the ship rolling considerably, but at least three people gave slight notice to the weather. Hugh was sober and morose; Veath was preoccupied and unnatural; Grace was restless and uneasy. Lady Huntingford, who came in while they were eating, observed this condition almost immediately, and smiled knowingly, yet sadly. Later Hugh Ridgeway drew her to a secluded corner and exploded his bomb. Her cool little head readily devised a plan which met his approval, and he hurried off to warn Grace before it was too late. Lady Huntingford advised him to tell Veath nothing of the elopement, allowing him to believe as he had all along, but suggested a radical change in their future plans. It was her advice that they go on to Japan and be married.

At first Grace demurred to this plan, which he necessarily proposed as his own, holding that it would be absolutely cruel to desert Veath at the last minute. Finally she agreed to the compromise and kissed him with tears in her eyes.

Days passed and the strain grew more tense than ever. The Tempest Queen was nearing the Archipelago, after the stops at Penang and Singapore. At Hong Kong the Manila-bound passengers were to be transferred to one of the small China Sea steamers. The weather had been rough and ugly for many days. Lady Huntingford had not left her stateroom in two days. Grace was with her a greater portion of the time, ministering to her wants gently and untiringly. Ridgeway and Veath, anxious and troubled, wandered aimlessly about the ship, smoking cigar after cigar, praying for a cessation of the ugly weather. Finally, all passengers were peremptorily forbidden the deck. The skilled sailors were in constant danger of being washed overboard. Captain Shadburn admitted that they were being driven from their course by the fury of the typhoon. Secretly he feared that the Queen might rush upon a reef at night.

Dinner on the second violent evening was a sombre affair. Lady Huntingford, pale, sweet and wan, made her appearance with Grace, occupying Veath's seat, that gentleman moving to the next chair, its original occupant being confined to his berth. Lord Huntingford, austere and imperturbable, entered some time before his wife and purposely ignored her when she came in.

As the party arose from the table, a heavy lurch of the boat threw Grace headlong into Veath's arms. By a superhuman effort he managed to keep his feet. He smiled down at her; but there was something so insistent in the smile that it troubled her.

"It's an ill wind that blows no good," said Veath softly.

"What blows well for one may blow ill for another," she responded a little coldly, though she did not refuse the proffered arm; and they staggered toward the doorway.

As they passed into the main saloon he suddenly asked her if she would let him speak to her of a matter that long had been on his mind. She did not look him in the face, but she knew it was white and determined. The time had come when he was to tell her that he loved her. He begged for a moment's time and gained her unspoken permission. They sank to a couch near the stairway, Grace giving a last helpless, hopeless glance at Hugh as he and his companion passed from the apartment.

"I can see by the manner in which you act that you know what I want to say to you. It is also plain to me that you would rather not hear me," he said, after a moment.

"Please do not say it," she entreated, and he saw the little hope that he had been nourishing dashed away.

"I did not dream until a few moments ago that you had discerned my love for you, Miss Ridge, but I am not sorry that I have been so transparent. How you have guessed my secret I cannot imagine. I tried to keep it from you," he said, as if he had wounded her. "Perhaps your brother told you."

She was on the point of telling him that Hugh was not her brother, but something checked the impulse and she could only answer by shaking her head.

"You told me that you expect to marry another man, but that has not kept me from telling you that I love you, nor will it prevent me from trying to win your love. Pride, if nothing else, has kept my lips sealed, for what right have I to ask any woman to share my lot? In sheer humiliation I must tell you that my life looks like a failure to me. I have a hard struggle ahead of me. You may say that I am young and strong, but I cannot, for my soul, see anything bright ahead." His voice trembled and she glanced up at his face. He was looking at the diamond that sparkled on her left hand.

"You have no right to say that life is a failure; you have no right to lie down on your arms and give, up the fight. That is the act of a coward. After all, it is not the way to win a woman's love."

"You don't mean—is it possible that you could—" he began.

"No, no! You must not hope. I love another as dearly as you love me. But I will not have you say that you cannot succeed in life. I know you are strong, and I know you are determined. There is nothing impossible to you," she said hurriedly, seeking feverishly to draw him from his purpose. "When first we met you were cheerful and hopeful, strong and full of life. Then some one came into your life and you saw a black cloud of despair arise. It came up easily and you can drive it away just as easily. It is not of your nature to give up, I know. You can win fame and fortune and the love of some one much worthier than I."

"If I live to be a thousand I shall love none as I love you," he said simply. "If you loved me I could win against all the world. Your wealth is a natural barrier between poor love and rich pride, both true possessions of mine. But for the latter the former would win. Can you understand?" he asked almost vehemently.

"I—I—no, I do not understand you," she said panic-stricken. His eyes were flashing again in the same old way and his voice, low pitched, had a gallant ring.

"I mean I'd win your love and I'd make you my wife."

"Mr. Veath! How can you—how dare you—" she began, arising indignantly, yet a trifle carried away by his impetuous manner. Her heart was thumping tumultuously and she dared not look into his eyes.

"Dare!" he cried. "You urge me to fight it out and die in the trenches, as it were, and now you ask me why I dare tell you what I'd do under certain conditions. I merely tell you what I could and would do if I could change the conditions."

"You are a trifle over-confident, Mr. Veath," she said coldly. "Good-night."

"Don't be angry, please," he cried in humility. "You have spoken to me in a way that has awakened a new spirit—the spirit that men call 'do or die.' To-night the storm rages and we are all in danger. I feel that in an hour like this and in a place like this I am worth more than I have ever been or could be in any other position. The fierceness of the night and the sting of your advice combine to give life and nerve to my weak heart. I am not the man who begged you a moment ago to listen to the weakness of a despairing lover; it is another man, another Henry Veath who talks to you now. From this instant I shall begin the battle against old conditions and you shall be the spoils of battle. Grace, look at me! I am going to show you what real determination means. I want you and I'll win you." His tall figure straightened, his blue eyes gleamed and flashed with the fire of enthusiasm. The timid, fearful Veath was gone, and in his stead stood the valiant, aggressive, inspired contestant.

The rolling of the ship sent her staggering toward him, and he caught her by the arms. Steadying himself against the staircase, he cried in her bewildered ear:

"I love you better than all else in the world. You are a part of my life, all of my joy. Do you think I can give you up now that I have found the courage to begin the struggle? I'll win my way and I'll win your love. Nothing but death can stop me now. Come! Don't look as though you hate me for it."

"I do not hate you," she said humbly, almost glaring into his bright eyes, unable to turn from the love which governed them so completely. "But you must not talk like this. I cannot listen to you. Mr. Veath, there is no possible hope."

"The hope to win and the will to win are two different propositions, and it is the latter under which I am enlisted. To me it is worth fighting for to the end of time."

"Oh, you must not say these things to me," she cried fiercely, trying to escape from his eyes.

"I shall not say another word to you after to-night until I am sure I have won the victory. Then I shall ask you to be my wife. To-morrow I'll tell your brother I am bound to win. He must know my honest intentions."

"My brother!" she gasped. Her knees grew weak and a faintness assailed her heart, almost to overpowering. "You—you must not—shall not say a word to Hugh. I forbid you—I—"

"Why are you so agitated? Why am I not to speak to him? He is fair-minded, and I know he likes me."

"You don't know what it would mean to me. There is something you do not know. No, no! You shall not speak to Hugh." It was her turn to command, and he wavered.

"Your will is the law which I obey. He shall not know—not now, at least," he said. "There are to be but two factions in the struggle, then, your love against mine."

"You forget the—the other man," she said, sudden tears springing to her eyes.

"I think only of one woman," he said softly, lovingly.

She leaned wearily against the staircase, her hands clasping the railing. There was a piteous, hopeless entreaty in the dimming eyes as she turned them to his and tried to speak calmly.

"I have something to say to you—to-morrow. Let us say good-night."

"Nothing you can say will alter my love. When the storm to-night is at its worst remember that I will give my life for your sake."

She did not answer, but her hand clasped his arm impulsively. In the doorway they met Hamilton and Gregory, just from the captain, their faces white and fear-stricken. Hugh and Lady Huntingford were hurrying toward them.



CHAPTER XV

THE WRECK OF THE "TEMPEST QUEEN"

"What's wrong?" asked Veath, alarmed by the agitation of the two soldiers.

"Captain Shadburn estimates that we are two hundred miles out of our course, away to the south. It's impossible to get our bearings without the sun, and the Lord only knows where we're running to," said Hamilton, holding to the door casing.

Hugh and Lady Huntingford had joined the others by this time and were listening with blanched faces to the men in uniform.

"It's as black as ink outside," said little Lieutenant Gregory, shivering in a manner most unbecoming in a soldier. "As long as they can keep the boat out of the trough we'll ride the waves safely, but the deuced danger lies in the reefs and little islands. We may be dashing into one of them at this minute."

"You're a cheerful hero," cried Hugh indignantly. "What's the use of imagining a thing like that? It's time enough to think about it when we strike the reef; and, besides, it can't help us any to cry. We can't leave the ship for a walk back to dry land. We're here to see the thing to the end, no matter where it is, and I don't believe in howling before we're hurt."

"That's right," agreed Veath. "Possibly we're out of the course. That happens in every storm that comes up at sea."

"But there are hundreds of reefs here that are not even on the chart," cried Gregory.

"Well, there have been thousands of ships to escape them all, I fancy," said Ridgeway boldly. The two women were speechless.

"And there have been thousands of storms, too," added Veath, a sort of wild exultation ringing in his voice, plain to Grace if not to the others.

"Do not try to deceive us, gentlemen," wavered Lady Tennys. "We can be a great deal braver if we know the real situation. I know you are making light of this dreadful storm out of consideration for Miss Ridge and myself, but don't you think it would be better if we were told the worst? Women are not always the greater cowards."

"Yes, Hugh, we should know the worst," said Grace firmly. "The ship is rolling frightfully, and Lieutenant Hamilton has said enough to assure us that Captain Shadburn is alarmed, even apprehensive."

"Perhaps I am too much of an optimist, but I stick to my statement that while we are in some danger—any fool can see that—we are by no means lost," said Hugh, looking at Gregory when he used the word fool.

"As long as the engine and steering apparatus hold together the crew of the ship can pull her through," said Veath. "I have the utmost confidence in the boat and the men."

"But all the men on the ocean cannot keep her from striking an unseen rock, nor could any ship withstand such a shock," argued the young Englishwoman bravely.

"That's right, Lady Tennys," quickly cried Hamilton. "I don't say the ship will get the worst of a straight fight against the sea, but we won't stand the ghost of a chance if we strike a reef."

"The best thing we all can do is to find some place where there is not quite so much danger of having our brains dashed out against these walls. It's getting so that I can't keep my feet much longer. This is no time to be taking chances of a broken leg, or an arm or a neck, perhaps. We'll need them all if we have to swim to Hong Kong."

Despite his attempted jocularity, Ridgeway was sorely troubled. Common sense told him that they were now in a most perilous position. The dead reckoning of the captain and his chartmaster, while able to determine with a certain degree of accuracy the locality in which the ship was beating, could not possibly account for the exact position of those little islands. He began to think of the life preservers. A feeble smile came to the ladies when he spoke of swimming to Hong Kong, but the men, Veath included, looked serious.

"I think it would be wise if we make every preparation to leave the ship, awful as the prospect may seem. My judgment is that we should take time by the forelock. It will be too late after the crash comes." Veath said this solemnly, and a deeper sense of realization came to all of them. Strange to say, it inspired energy and calmness rather than weakness and panic.

"The life preservers, you mean?" almost whispered Grace. A fearful lurch of the boat caused the whole party to cling desperately to the supports. Before he could answer a ship's officer came scudding down below.

"Captain Shadburn says that every one is to prepare for the worst. The propeller's smashed and we can't live in this sea. Be quick!" cried the pale-faced sailor, hurrying onward. In an inconceivably short space of time the passages and saloons were crowded with rushing passengers. Pandemonium prevailed. Women were shrieking, men yelling and praying. Cooler heads were utterly powerless to subdue the crazy disorder. Ridgeway and Veath hurried the two women to their staterooms, plunging along, almost falling with the savage rolling of the boat.

"For God's sake, hurry!" called Hamilton from afar. "We are turning into the trough."

How our friends got into the cumbersome preservers and prepared themselves for the end they could never have told. Everything seemed a blank, the whole world whirled, all the noises in the universe rolled in their ears. Then they were stumbling, rolling, tearing toward the upper deck, hardly knowing whither they went or how they progressed. Before, behind, beside them were yelling, maddened men and women, rushing upward ruthlessly into the very waves of the ocean, all to be lost.

On the steps Hugh and Grace, who were together in advance of Veath and Lady Tennys, encountered the latter's husband. Pie had fallen, and was grovelling, cursing, screaming, praying on the steps. Hugh pulled him to his feet. With a mad yell he fled onward and upward. At the top he was checked by the sailors, who were vainly trying to keep the people back. He struggled past them and on toward the open deck. An officer caught him and held him firmly until Hugh, Veath, and the two trembling women came up.

"Get back, all of you!" yelled Shadburn. "You can't come out here. Every sailor on deck has been washed overboard!"

"Don't let us sink! Don't let us sink! For God's sake!" shrieked Lord Huntingford. Then he saw his wife. "Save me, Tennys; we are lost! We are lost!"

A great wave swept over the deck, washing all of them back into the companionway, half drowned.

"Is there any hope, Mr. Frayne?" yelled Hugh to the second officer, holding himself and his half-dead sweetheart against the leaping of the boat.

"One chance in a million! Stay back there and we'll try the boats. God knows they can't live in this sea, but they're the only hope. We'll turn clear over with the next big wave. Stay back!" he yelled. "We are trying to get the boats ready. Stay back!"

Hugh and Grace from where they clung could see the great black mountains of water rushing upon them, each wave a most terrifying spectacle. Then again the whole dark, seething ocean seemed to be below them and they were flying to the clouds. The breath of relief died instantly, for again the helpless ship sank into the trough and the foaming mountains towered about her. Grace hid her eyes and screamed with terror. Those huge murderous waves already had swept many from the ship. A score of sailors and as many courageous soldiers were in the churn of the merciless waters.

Crash! A horrid grating sound, splintering! Then the instantaneous shock, the awful, stunning force of a frightful blow and a shipful of human beings were flung violently in all directions, many never to rise again. The Tempest Queen had struck! The last chance was gone!

"My God!" groaned the captain. "It's all over!" Then he roared: "All hands! All hands! Stations! To the boats! Stand back there! Women first!"

Ridgeway, dimly realizing that the end had come, staggered to his feet and instinctively reached for the body of the woman who lay before him. He did not know that she was conscious, nor did he know whether the ship was afloat or sinking. A gigantic wave swept over her, tons of water pouring in upon them. Blankly he dragged her to the opening which led to the watery deck, clinging to a railing with all his might. He was gasping for breath, his life almost crushed out of his body. It required all his strength to drag the limp form safely away from the passage, through which now poured their crazed companions, rushing headlong into the sea.

"In the name of God what shall we do?" he heard a hoarse voice shout in his ear. It was Veath, also burdened with the helpless form of a woman.

"It is death here and death there. I am going to trust to the life preservers," gasped Ridgeway, as another wave struck. The constant crackling and crashing told him that the Tempest Queen was being ground to pieces on the rock and that she had but a few minutes to live.

"Wait, Hugh, we may get off in a boat," cried the other, but he was not heard. Hugh was in the sea!

Just as Veath began his anguished remonstrance the ship gave a tremendous lurch, an overpowering wave hurled itself upon the frail shell and Hugh Ridgeway's frenzied grasp on the rail was broken. When he saw that he was going, he threw both arms about the girl he had brought to this awful fate, and, murmuring a prayer, whirled away with the waters over the battered deck-house and into the black depths.

They shot downward into the sea and then came to the hideous surface, more dead than alive. His one thought was that nobody in the world would ever know what had become of Hugh Ridgeway and Grace Vernon.



Chapter XVI

THE NIGHT AND THE MORNING

Gasping for breath, blinded, terrified beyond all imagination, crying to God from his heart, Hugh gave up all hope. Fathoms of water beneath them, turbulent and gleeful in the furious dance of destruction; mountains of water above them, roaring, swishing, growling out the horrid symphony of death! High on the crest of the wave they soared, down into the chasm they fell, only to shoot upward again, whirling like feathers in the air.

Something bumped violently against Ridgeway's side, and, with the instinct of a drowning man, he grasped for the object as it rushed away. A huge section of the bowsprit was in his grasp and a cry of hope arose in his soul. With this respite came the feeling, strong and enduring, that he was not to die. That ever-existing spirit of confidence, baffled in one moment, flashes back into the hearts of all men when the faintest sign of hope appears, even though death has already begun to close his hand upon them. Nature grasps for the weakest straw and clings to life with an assurance that is sublime. The hope that comes just before the end is the strongest hope of all.

"For God's sake, be brave, darling! Cling tight and be careful when you breathe," he managed to cry in her ear. There was no answer, but he felt that she had heard.

The night was so black that he could not see the spar to which he clung. At no time could he see more than the fitful gleam of dark water as some mysterious glimmer was produced by the weird machinery of the air. He could hear the roar of the mighty waves, could feel the uplifting power and the dash downward from seemingly improbable heights, but he could not see the cauldron in which they were dancing.

It was fortunate that he could not, for a single glimpse of that sea in all its fury would have terrified him beyond control. In sheer despair he would have given up the infinitesimal claim he had for salvation and welcomed death from the smothering tons, now so bravely battled against.

The girl to whom he clung and whose rigid clasp was still about his neck had not spoken, and scarcely breathed since the plunge into the sea. At times he felt utterly alone in the darkness, so death-like was her silence. But for an occasional spasmodic indication of fear as they and their spar shot downward from some unusual elevation, he might have believed that he was drifting with a corpse.

Rolling, tossing, dragging through the billows, clinging to the friendly spar, Hugh Ridegway sped onward, his body stiff and sensationless, his brain fogged and his heart dead with that of the girl to whom he clung so desperately. At last the monstrous waves began to show their outlines to his blinding eyes. The blackness of the dome above became tinged with a discernible shade of ever-increasing brightness. A thrill shot through his fagging soul as he realized that the long night was ending and day was dawning. The sun was coming forth to show him his grave.

Slowly the brightness grew, and with it grew the most dreadful aspect that ever fell upon the eye of man—the mighty sea in all its fury. Suddenly, as he poised on the summit of a huge wave, something ahead struck him as strange. A great mass seemed to rise from the ocean far away, dim, indistinct, but still plain to the eye. With the next upward sweep he strained his eyes in the waning darkness and again saw the vast black, threatening, uneven mass.

An uncanny terror enveloped him. What could the strange thing be that appeared to be rushing toward him? As far as the eye could see on either side stretched the misty shape. The sky grew brighter, a faint glow became apparent ahead, spreading into a splendor whose perfection was soon streaked with bars of red and yellow, racing higher and higher into the dome above. His dull brain observed with wonder that the brightness grew, not out of the sea, but beyond the great object ahead, and he was more mystified than ever. The tiny, fiery beams seemed to spring from the dark, ugly, menacing cloud, or whatever it might be. Finally he realized that it was the sun coming into the heavens from the east, and—his heart roared within him as he began to grasp the truth—the great black mass was land!

"Oh, God! It is land—land!" he tried to shriek. "Grace! Grace! Lookup! See! The land!"

The arms about his neck tightened sharply and a low moan came to his ears. Slowly and painfully he turned his head to look at the face that had been so near in all those awful hours of the night, unseen. His heart seemed to stop beating with that moan, for it bore the announcement that the dear one was still alive.

It was still too dark to distinguish her features plainly. The face was wet and slimy with the salt water; her hair was matted over the forehead and wrapped in ugly strips about the once pretty face, now ghastly with the signs of suffering, fear and—yes, death, he thought, as he strove to see one familiar feature.

Into his eyes came a quizzical stare that slowly changed to an intense look of bewilderment. Gradually they grew wider with horror.

The death-like face was not that of the girl he loved!

While he gazed numbly, almost insanely, upon the closed eyelids, they slowly opened and a pair of wild, dark eyes gazed despairingly into his, expressive of timidity more than fear. The trembling lips parted, but the effort to speak ended in a moan. Again the eyes closed and her arms slipped from his neck.

Every vestige of strength left him with this startling discovery and, had his arm been anything but rigid with paralysis, she might have drifted off with the billows, a fate which her voluntary action invited.

A great wave rushed them violently forward and the next moment Ridgeway, faint, bewildered, and unable to grasp the full force of the remarkable ending to that night in the water, found himself, still grasping his limp burden and the broken spar, washed far upon the sands. A second wave swept them higher, and he realized, as he lay gasping on the edge of the waters, that the vast ocean was behind him and the beautiful woman he had rescued by mistake.



CHAPTER XVII

WAS THE SEA KIND?

He lost consciousness in the attempt to drag himself and his companion farther up the beach. His arms and legs refused to move in response to his efforts, and the last he remembered was that his body was stiff and he was absolutely powerless. When he again opened his eyes he was lying on a grassy sward with spreading green branches above him. For some minutes he lay perfectly still, dimly sensible that he was alive, but utterly unable to fix his whereabouts. Through his brain there still roared the awful waves; in his eyes there still lingered the vision of the sea as it was when dawn first developed the picture.

Fearing that he could not lift his head, he rose to his trembling elbow. His wide eyes swept the view before him. There was the sea not two hundred yards down the slope, rushing and booming upon the stretch of sand which reached within fifty feet of his grassy bed. Behind him grew a forest of queer, tropical trees, the like of which he never had seen before. His jacket had been rolled up as a pillow for his head; his shoes and stockings were off, his shirt bosom unbuttoned. Two soggy life preservers lay near by.

At last he caught sight of a woman, alone, forlorn, the picture of despondency. Far down the beach to his right there rose a rugged, stony formation, extending into the sea and rising several hundred feet in the air. At the base of this rocky promontory a multitude of great boulders lay scattered, some quite large and jagged, others insignificant in size.

Upon one of the smaller stones, well up the slope, sat the figure of the woman he had drugged from the sea and whom he had hated with his last conscious breath. Her head was lying against the sheer wall that ran up alongside, and he could tell that she was staring out toward the sea, which roared against the rocks so close by that the spray must have reached her feet. The distance to this rock was fully three hundred yards. There was a fascination about her loneliness that held him immovable for a long time. Finally he struggled to a sitting posture, faint and dizzy. At the same moment she slowly turned her head and looked in his direction. Half rising, she made a movement as if to come toward him, first peering intently. Then she sank back upon the rock and sent her gaze out to the sea again.

With all the haste he could command he scrambled eagerly toward the rocks, carrying the crumpled jacket in his hand. Not once did she take her eyes from the breakers. Tired and faint, he at last came to the edge of the rocky pile. Here his strength failed him and he sank trembling with exhaustion upon the first friendly stone, still a hundred feet from where she sat. In his bitter rage against her he strove to shout, but the effort was little more than a hoarse whisper. Lying there impotently, he studied her attitude as the minutes crept by, and there came at last into his heart a touch of pity that swelled with the sight of her.

Pain-racked but determined, he again started toward the elevation, crawling over and around the boulders that intervened. He was within five feet of her before he spoke, and then not until he had studied her face for some moments, steadying himself against a large rock. She was more beautiful than ever with her black hair awry and matted, brushed away from the pure white face and fastened recklessly with the shell combs she had worn on board the Tempest Queen. Her blue eyes looked mournfully from beneath their long lashes. The slender white hands lay listlessly in the lap of the once white dress, now water-stained, wrinkled and shapeless. In spite of all that dreadful buffeting by the wind and water she was still the beautiful creation of nature he had found so charming in a realm where nature seldom presents herself.

"Lady Tennys," he called hoarsely. "You do not know how I thank God you are alive."

She turned slowly, as if she had known all along of his tortuous approach. Her voice was low and thrilling.



"I prayed for hours, it seemed, after we were dashed upon this shore, that you might live and that I might die. The knowledge that you saved me through mistake, that you were battling so long and so bravely all through the night for the one you cherished more than all in the world, made me pray from the first that I could be dead before you discovered the horrid error. You picked me up when the crash came and I was too terrified to even think of crying aloud in protest. Then we were in that awful, awful water. It was not until hours afterward that I felt we might escape find that I should have to face your grief." He reached up and clasped her hand.

"Don't—don't talk like that now," he groaned. "I hated you this morning, but—God, it is a relief to have you here to share all this with me. God threw us into the sea and He has saved us. I would to God I could have gone down with—with her, but—but—" and he broke down, his head falling upon his outstretched arms at her feet. A deep sob from Lady Tennys caused him to lift his haggard eyes to hers. "It would have been so much better than to live without her," he cried.

"Why did you not let me go when you found who I was?" she cried almost fiercely. "I wanted to drown, I was hungry to go to the bottom, to be washed away to the end of the ocean, anywhere but here with you when you thought you were saving her. You had forgotten that I existed until that awful moment in the breakers. I heard her cry out to you as we went overboard. All through the night I heard that cry of 'Hugh! Hugh!' It was worse than the worst of deaths!"

At the mention of Grace's piteous cry, even though heard in imagination, Hugh sank limply to the rock, his mouth falling open and his eyes bulging forth in agony. Every drop of blood in his veins seemed frozen with the realization that he had deserted her in that hour when she had most needed him, that he had left her to go down to death without being by her side, that she had cried out to him for help,—had reached out to him in agony. Crazed by a sudden impulse, he sprang to his feet and glared out over the tumbling waves,—ever moving mountains that reached as far as the eye could see. She arose also, trembling and alarmed.

"Where is she? Where is she?" he cried fiercely. "My God! Look at that water! Grace, Grace! My darling, how could I have left you alone to die in that hell of water! Let me come to you now, dearest. I will save you. I will come! Hugh is coming, dearest! Look! She must be out there somewhere. I can reach her if I try. I must go!"

Insane with despair, he leaped to his feet and would have dashed down the steep into the death-dealing breakers had not his companion, with a sharp cry, clutched his arm. He turned fiercely, ready to strike her in his frenzy. His glaring eyes met hers, sweet, wide, and imploring, and their influence told at once upon him. A rush of quiet almost benumbed him, so immediate was the reaction from violence to submission.

"You must not do that!" she cried in horror.

"Let me save her, for God's sake. I cannot leave her to the sea."

"Be calm!" she wailed. "Hours ago I would have leaped into the sea myself, but the thought came to me that she may not be lost after all. There is something for you to live for."

"There is nothing. She is lost," he cried.

"As I stood here, I wondered if she might not have been saved as miraculously as we. Wonder grew into hope and hope took the shape of possibility. Hugh, she may be alive and as safe as we!"

His eyes brightened like a flash; his breath came quickly; he tried to speak, but could not for the joy of hope.

"The hope that she may have been saved and may yet be given back to you kept me from ending the life that did not belong to me, but to her. Hugh Ridgeway, I have spent a thousand years on these rocks, trying to find courage to live. But for me she would be standing here with you. You would have saved her had I not been in the way last night," she whispered. He could see that she suffered, but he was again blind to everything but his own great despair.

"Yes," he cried savagely, "but for you I would have saved her. Oh, I could curse you—curse you!" She shrank back with a low moan, covering her eyes with her hands.

"Don't say that!" she murmured piteously. "I would to God I could have gone down with the ship." His eyes softened and a wave of remorse swept over him.

"Forgive me," he groaned, "I am mad or I could not have said that to you. I did not mean it." He placed his hand on hers, clasping the fingers firmly. "Forget that I spoke so cruelly. I devoutly thank God that your life was spared. We both loved the one who was left behind."

She glanced down at his face doubtingly, unbelievingly, at first. Then a gleam of joy flooded her tired eyes, illumined her face. Sinking down beside him, she placed her head upon his shoulder and wept softly. He did not move from his position on the rock below. His heart was full of tenderness for the living and grief for the dead. His eyes stared out over the sea wistfully.

"I cannot look at that water!" he suddenly shrieked, drawing back in abject terror. "It is horrible! Horrible!"

He left her side and dashed madly away, strength having come with sudden abhorrence. She looked after him in alarm, her eyes wide with the fear that he was bereft of reason. Down the rocks and up the beach he fled, disappearing among the strangely shaped trees and underbrush that marked the outskirts of the jungle. Again she leaned back against the rock and looked at the unfriendly billows beyond, a feeling that she sat deserted forever on that barren shore plunging her soul into the very lowest pits of wretchedness.

Hours afterward he crept painfully from the cool, lonely jungle into the bright glare of the beach,—calmer, more rational, cursing no more. A shudder swept over him, a chill penetrated to the marrow of his bones as he looked again upon the sea. His eyes sought the rocks upon which he had left her; his heart was full of an eagerness to comfort her and be comforted in return.

She still sat upon the rock and he hurried toward her. As on his first approach, she did not move. When he drew quite close, he discovered that she was lying limply back against the supporting boulder. The fear that she was dead and that he was left alone almost struck him to the ground. He reached her side, pale and panting, and then breathed a prayer of rejoicing.

Lady Tennys, her dark lashes resting tranquilly upon her cheek, was lying easily against the staunch old rock, fast asleep.



Chapter XVIII

THE WONDERFUL LAND

He did not arouse her at once, but sat below her, looking at her sweet, tired face, peaceful in the slumber that had been so long in coming, wondering what her dreams could be. Far down the shore, near the tree under which he had found himself and to whose shelter she had dragged him,—something told him vaguely,—was the spar that had ridden the waves with them the night before. Long, white and gleaming it lay in the waning sunlight. The sight of it filled him with an enthusiasm he never had known before. His heart swelled with homage to the strong, sturdy piece of timber. It was like a living object to him now, a friend to whom he felt like talking, to whom he could turn for proof positive of an unparalleled experience on the deep.

His eyes grew sad and gloomy as he turned toward the setting king of day. In his imagination, the Tempest Queen, with all on board, went down precisely at the point chosen by the sun for his disappearance.

Night coming! Where were they? Upon an unknown shore, Heaven alone knowing how far from habitation, from all shelter save the tree-tops, from all means of sustenance. Night coming! Behind them the mysterious jungle, before them the devil-brewed ocean.

A chilly perspiration broke out over him; a fear even worse than that of the night before attacked him. How far were they from human habitation? What manner of people dwelt in this land? As these thoughts tumbled about in his brain, suddenly came the implacable desire for water. It seemed days since he had tasted it. Like a flash, nature began its demands, and he was almost overcome by the prospect of night on the rocks with no possible hope to find the food and water now so necessary.

Lady Tennys slept on, untouched by the calamities that beset him, her breast rising full and regularly. As he looked upon her lovely face the spirit of chivalry returned. She had thought of him in his unconsciousness and she had been brave and true. Bound by a new determination to find food and water for her and to provide other shelter than the draughty crannies among the rocks, he painfully started up the slope toward the edge of the forest. Soon he stood upon the broad, smooth plateau, looking into the green, sunless depths.

Behind him lay the beach and the fringe of the jungle; to seaward rose the rocky point full two hundred feet higher than the spot on which he stood, panting for breath; to his right, descending gradually, ran the lofty hill to a place, not more than a quarter of a mile away, where it merged into the forest. The ridge on which he stood was not more than one hundred feet wide, a flat, narrow, sloping table. Filled with curiosity, he strode to the opposite side and found himself upon the edge of a sharp decline, almost perpendicular in its fall to the valley below, which was apparently lower than the beach from which he had come.

As far as the eye could reach inland there was a mass of bright green trees, luxuriant and beautiful. Below him was water, a natural harbor of tiny dimensions, running back from the sea which lay off to the far right as he faced the head of this peculiar elevation. Plain to his eye was the contour of this great rock. It resembled the letter L. Along the sea line it stretched high and ugly for nearly a mile, a solid wall, he imagined, some three hundred feet above the water, narrow at the top, like a great backbone. The little cove below him was perhaps a mile across. The opposite shore was low and verdure-clad. The rocky eminence that formed the wall on two sides was the only high ground to be seen for miles around.

Down the slope he sped, dusky shadows beginning to tell of the coming night. His feet finally touched upon the grass-covered soil; he was off the barren rock and at the edge of the dismal forest. Without a quiver he hurried under the great leaves and among the trees. The ground sloped gently downward to the now invisible harbor. He turned in that direction. Monkeys chattered in the trees and strange birds hurtled through the dense growth. His foot struck against a queer green object and an instant later he gave a shout of joy. It was a cocoanut, green and smooth.

Food! In an instant he realized that he had found something that could appease the cravings of hunger for the time being, at least. He searched eagerly, feverishly in the matted grass, and soon had a dozen great nuts piled at the edge of the wood. Then he renewed his search for the water that must keep life in their famished bodies.

The lapping of waves grew louder as he pushed his way through the trees, and a moment later he narrowly escaped plunging into the waters of the shimmering little bay. The coast was semicircular in shape, rising high and black to his left, running low and green to his right. Not one hundred feet to the left were the first signs of the rocky promontory, small, jagged boulders standing like a picket line before the grout mass beyond. Along the rocky side of the wall, sonic distance away, he saw an overhanging shelf of dark gray stone, protruding over the natural floor beneath. An inky darkness back of the projection impressed him with the idea that a cave lay beyond.

At his feet trickled a little stream of clear, sparkling water, coming from the crevasse above, the headquarters of a spring. He fell upon his knees and plunged his hot face into the cool water, swallowing great gulps.

When he arose to his feet everything looked brighter, fairer, happier. The scene, gorgeous a few moments before, was now more than that to his revived senses. A desire to shout jubilantly came over him. With an exultation that he could scarcely control he dashed on up the sand-strewn ledge toward the awning-like rock.

He found that a roomy cave ran back into the hill a dozen feet or more. Its floor was covered with fine white sand, thrown up from the beach during the wind storms, and it was a most perfect shelter,—this hole fifty feet above the placid waters.

Darkness was coming, so he ran back to the little rivulet. In a broken cocoanut shell he secured some fresh water and began his journey to the other side of the ridge. The sun was down to the level of the sea when he came from the rocks and within sight of the spot where he had left his fair companion.

She was not there!

A great trembling fear assailed him and he sank back with a groan of despair. Then he heard his name called faintly and piteously.

"Here I am!" he cried. "Where are you?" A glad cry arose from below, and he saw her coming rapidly from the small boulders near the water, some distance to the left. He hurried to meet her.

"Oh, I thought you had left me to die up there," she gasped as they drew near to each other. "Mr. Ridgeway—Hugh, I am so glad you have come."

"You were asleep when I came back an hour ago. See? I have found water. Drink!" With one hand he reached down and took hers, eagerly upstretched, drawing her to the rock on which he stood. She gulped the contents of the shell with the haste of one half famished.

"How good!" she cried, with eyes sparkling as she took the empty shell from her moist lips. "I was so thirsty that I tried to drink that bitter stuff down there. How horrible it must be to die of thirst. Can we find food, Hugh? Is there nothing to eat? I am so hungry, so hungry." The sparkle faded from her eyes and a look of pain filled them.

"I have found cocoanuts on the other side of the hill. We can make them serve until I have a chance to look farther. Come. We must hurry, or the night will make it impossible for us to cross this hill and find the cave."

"Cave?"

"A wonderful shelter for the night. Can you walk that far? It will not be difficult after we reach the top of this little mountain."

Together they began the tortuous ascent, following as closely as possible the course he had taken. They were scarcely able to stand when they at last reached the top. Neither saw the beauty in the view, so eager were they to find rest and nourishment. As they passed painfully down the slope, he told her of the monkeys, the nuts, the cave, the rivulet, and the splendor of the scene, cheering her lagging spirits with what animation he could assume. A few chattering monkeys welcomed them to the woodland, and she was momentarily aroused to interest in her surroundings, uttering little cries of delight. They came to the pile of nuts, and he took up several in his free arm. The cave was reached at last and both sank exhausted to the white sand. It was now so dark that the stars were gathering above them and objects were indistinct to the vision.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed, lying flat on his back, his arms outstretched.

"I am so tired," she murmured, her head drooping against the wall as she seated herself near the opening. After many minutes he began the task of opening the cocoanuts.

"To-morrow I shall go hunting for something more substantial than these nuts. There must be fruit, berries and vegetables of some kind in the forest," said he.

"How are we to get away from here, Hugh?" she asked. "Where are we? This may be an uninhabited island, and we may have to stay here all of our lives." There was an awe in her voice, and he could imagine that the prospect brought horror to her face. By this time it was almost pitch dark.

"Have I not found food, water and shelter within an hour's time? Can good fortune end with this? Let us sleep peacefully to-night and hope for the best with to-morrow's developments."

"Sleep? Where are we to sleep?"

"In this cave and upon the sand. There is no other place. It is safe, Lady Tennys, and you are to have my coat as a pillow for that tired little head of yours." With this he arose and threw off his coat despite her protests, rolling it into a compact little bundle. Placing this improvised pillow on the sand near the rear of the cave, he said:

"There is your bed, my Lady. It is the very best in the hotel."

"You are so good to me, Hugh,—much better than I thought you could be after—after—"

"Please don't say what you started to say," he interrupted, his voice breaking suddenly. He stood with his shoulder against one of the outer corners of the cave, she sitting quietly behind him. At last he went on, as if the thought came slowly, "Lady Huntingford, forgive my selfishness. I have been bewailing my own misfortune in a most unmanly way, while you have borne your loss bravely, thinking only to comfort me. Forgive me."

"My loss?" she asked in wonder.

"Lord Huntingford," he said gently.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, starting sharply. "Lord—Lord Huntingford! Oh, Hugh, I had forgotten—I had not thought—," but she did not complete the bewildered speech. He could have believed that she did not breathe during the next few moments as she stood there, straight and rigid, clasping his arm convulsively. Then she turned away and walked quickly to the bed on the sand, lying down without a word. He could distinguish nothing of her person save certain outlines in the darkness, and although he listened intently, he heard no sob, no sigh.

Soon his eyes grew heavy and he felt the overpowering force of sleep upon him. Removing his waistcoat, he went to the other side of the cave and prepared to stretch himself out for rest. He paused and listened for a sound from her. None came, so in some trepidation he stepped nearer. Soft, regular breathing, deep and full, told him that she was asleep. In considerable wonder he went back to his hard bed. Out of the confusion of thoughts and impressions that followed her surprising admission, came at last the dim, sleepy understanding of the situation.

She had not thought of Lord Huntingford until he mentioned the old nobleman's name.

With the last faint whirl of wakefulness came the suggestion of roaming wild beasts, creeping up to attack them in the night, but sleep greedily swallowed the half-formed fear.



CHAPTER XIX

THE FIRST DAY IN THE WILDS

The sun was up hours before Ridgeway stretched his stiff arms, blinked his sleepy eyes and peered wonderingly about his strange apartment. Another and more rapid glance failed to reveal Lady Tennys. His jacket was still there, and a round depression showed that her head had rested upon it all night. The packed sand denoted the once present body of the sleeper.

"Good-morning," came a sweet, clear voice from somewhere.

"Hello! Where are you?" he called, greatly relieved.

"In the kitchen, of course, getting breakfast for you. The kitchen is down at the spring, you know. Come down."

He hurried down the path, and found her standing beside the bounding little stream. Her wavy black hair was no longer matted and wild, for, with the water in the cove as a mirror and her big hair comb as the necessary toilet article, she had "done it up" in quite a presentable fashion. Her face was bright and pure in its freshness, her hands were white and immaculately clean; her eyes sparkled with a deeper, clearer blue than ever. She wore an air of resolute confidence in herself.

"I have been up for two hours or more. See how nice and clean I am. Go down there and wash your hands and face and I will comb your hair." She produced an improvised clothes broom, a stout leafy branch from a cocoanut-tree, and swished the sand from his clothing as he turned about for her obediently.

"These clothes of mine are full of sand and scum from the sea, but before the day is over I intend to give them a good scrubbing and drying. Then I'll feel like a new man. But wait! This may be Sunday, not Monday. Can't wash on Sunday, can I? Let's see, the wreck was on Thursday night, yesterday was Friday and—"

"And to-day is Saturday naturally. We must have clean clothes for Sunday. Our parlor, kitchen, and laundry are in the same room, it would seem. Here's a pile of cocoanuts I collected while you slept, and there are some plums or fruit of some kind. They grow back there in the wood a short distance. I saw some gorgeous birds out there, and they were eating the fruit, so it must be wholesome. And those dear, saucy little monkeys! I could watch them for hours."

"Did you run across any boa constrictors or anacondas?" asked he serenely.

"Good Heavens! I never thought of snakes. There may be dreadful serpents in that forest, Hugh." Her eyes were full of alarm.

"I merely asked your Ladyship in order to keep the cook in her kitchen," laughed he.

"An afternoon out is not a luxury in this land, even for the most cooped up of cooks. Snakes! Ugh!" Hugh thought she shuddered very prettily.

"Breakfast will be cold if I don't hurry," he observed. He made his way around the rocky bend to the point where the rivulet emptied into the cove. When he returned to the shady spot he was put to work opening cocoanuts and pouring the milk into the shells of others. She had cleaned the flat surface of a large rock which stood well out from the lower edge of the cliff, and signified her intention to use it as a dining table. He became enthusiastic and, by the exertion of all the strength he could muster, succeeded in rolling two boulders down the incline, placing them in position as stools beside the queer table. Then they stood off and laughed at the remarkable set of furniture.

"I wonder what time it is?" she said as they began to eat. He pulled his forgotten repeater from his watch pocket and opened it with considerable apprehension. It was not running, nor did it appear as if it would ever be of service again.

"How are we ever to know the time of day?" she cried.

"I'll try to fix it. It is only water-clogged. My little compass on the charm is all right and it will give us our bearings, north and south, so that I can get the time by the sun. I'll drive a little stake out there on the level, and when the shadow is precisely north and south, then it is noon. It's all very simple, Lady Tennyson."

"I'm only the cook, Hugh. Won't you please call me Tennys?"

"Thank you; it's such a waste of time to say Lady Tennyson. Shall I order dinner, cook?"

"We'll have a ten-course dinner, sir, of cocoanuts and plums, sir, if you please, sir."

"Breakfast warmed over, I see," he murmured, gazing resignedly toward the trees. Later on he managed to get some life into his watch and eventually it gave promise of faithful work. He set the hands at twelve o'clock. It was broiling hot by this time, and he was thoughtful enough to construct a poke-bonnet for her, utilizing a huge palm leaf. Proudly he placed the green protector upon her black hair. Then, looking into her smiling eyes, he tied the grass cord under her up-tilted chin.

"Perfect!" she cried, with genuine pleasure. "You must make another for yourself." Whether he took it as a command or as a request matters not. Suffice it to say, he soon produced another palm-leaf hat, and she tied it under his chin a great deal more deftly than he had performed the same service for her, consequently with a speed that disappointed him.

He decided to make a short tour of the wood during the afternoon. At first he argued it would be wise to walk far down the coast, in the hope of finding a village of some description along the water front. Then he decided that a trip to the north, through the wood, would be better, as the lower coast could be surveyed from the summit of the great rock.

"You are not afraid to stay here alone for a couple of hours, are you, Tennys?" he asked, discerning solicitude in her face.

"I am not afraid for myself, but for you. You must be very careful, Hugh, and come back to me safely. What can I do? What shall I do if you never come back?" she cried.

"Nothing can happen to me—nothing in the world. See, it's nearly one o'clock now. I'll be back by five. And I'll be careful, so do not be troubled. We must find the way out of this wilderness. Be brave and I'll soon be with you again."

He was soon in the depths of the forest, skirting the little bay toward the north. She stood beside their stone festal board, watching him through uneasy eyes till he disappeared completely from view. A sense of loneliness so overpowering that it almost crushed her fell upon this frail, tender woman as she stood there on the edge of the South Sea jungle, the boundless sea at her back. The luxuries and joys of a life to which she had been accustomed came up in a great flash before her memory's eye, almost maddening in their seductiveness. She glanced at the dress she wore, and a faint, weary smile came to her eyes and lips. Instead of the white, perfect yachting costume, she saw the wretched, shrunken, stained, shapeless garment that to her eyes would have looked appalling on the frame of a mendicant. Her costly shoes, once small and exquisitely moulded to her aristocratic feet, were now soiled and ugly.

From the palace to the jungle! From the wealth of fashion to the poverty of nature! From the scores of titled admirers to the single brave American who shared life with her on the bleak rock, mourning for a love that might never be restored by the unkind depths. A vision of yesterday and to-day! Turning to the sea, she breathed a prayer for the salvation of Grace Vernon, her eyes dimming as she thought of the blithe, cheery girl who had become so dear to her, and who was all the world to Hugh Ridgeway.

Her thoughts went then to Lord Huntingford, her husband. There was scant regret in her heart over the fate of the old nobleman. She was not cruel enough to rejoice, but there was a certain feeling of relief which she could not quell, try as she would, in the belief that he had gone down to death and a younger, nobler man spared. The last she saw of her husband was when he broke past the officers and plunged out upon the deck, leaving her to her fate. That he had been instantly swept overboard she had no doubt. All she could remember of her thoughts at that thrilling moment was the brief, womanly cry for mercy to his soul. After that came the lurch which prostrated her, and then Ridgeway's cry, "Be brave, dearest!"

Bitter tears streamed down her cheeks as she thought of the strong-hearted Veath and the forsaken American girl—and all of the others in that merry company. It was not in such anguish as this that she summed up her individual loss.

Ridgeway was soon in the thick of the jungle. For two or three hours he plunged through beautiful glades, over swelling knolls, across tiny streams, but always through a waste of nature that, to all appearance, had never been touched by a human being save himself.

At last he dropped wearily upon a grassy mound and resigned himself to the conviction that they had been swept upon an absolutely unexplored, perhaps undiscovered, portion of the globe. It did not occur to his discouraged mind that he had covered less than five miles of what might be a comparatively small piece of uninhabited land and that somewhere not far distant lay the civilization for which he sought. His despairing mind magnified the horrors of their position to such an extent that he actually wondered how long it would be before death broke down their feeble resistance. Arising despondently, he turned his steps in the direction of the little cave.

It was not long before he reached a small sandy stretch about five hundred yards from the spot where he had left Lady Tennys. Little waves licked the short strip of sand lazily, seeming to invite him down to meet them on their approach from the big sea whose tidings of woe they bore. High, dark and ominous loomed the great rock on the south. He could not see the cave or the rivulet on account of obstructing trees and a curve in the shore, so he walked down to the very edge of the water, expecting to obtain a view from that point.

A startling discovery flashed upon him as he strode upon the beach. There, in the white, soft sand were plainly revealed the footprints of a bare human foot. He rubbed his eyes and gazed again. Before him were a number of small footprints, running to and from the water. In a dazed, wondering way he sought to follow them, eventually finding where a single line of tracks led directly toward a clump of trees to his left. At the edge of this he found a confusion of bewildering barefoot moulds, mixed with others unquestionably made by a shoe on the foot of a civilized person. Hurrying through the trees, fearful that savages had attacked Lady Tennys at this place, he was suddenly confronted by a spectacle that made him gasp. Down at the water's edge, over near the place where he had left her, he saw white garments spread upon the rocks. She was nowhere to be seen. Like a flash the truth came to him, and he looked at his watch in consternation. It was but three-thirty o'clock. He had told her he would be away until five or after.

Turning about, he dashed back into the depths of the wood. It was after five when he again approached the rendezvous, carrying a quantity of plums and other fruits and a number of gaudy feathers that he had found. Away back in the wood he began to shout to her, long before he was in sight of the hill. She answered cheerily, venturing into the wood to meet him. Her clothes were white, clean, even shapely.



CHAPTER XX

THE SIGN OF DISTRESS

The next morning before she was awake he arose and made a tour of the beach in quest of shell fish, took a plunge in the cool waters of the bay, and again inspected the little footprints in the sand. He smiled as he placed his own foot, a number nine, beside the dainty imprint. On his way back to the cave he killed a huge turtle, the meat of which he promised should keep them alive for several days, if nothing better could be found. As he turned the bend he saw her standing on the ledge at the mouth of the cave, the wind blowing her hair and skirts freely. He called to her, and she turned her face eagerly in his direction. They met among the trees some distance from the spring.

"Where have you been?" she cried, her cheeks glowing.

"Hunting wild beasts," he replied valiantly.

"Pooh! Wild flowers, you mean. I thought perhaps you had gone off to join the monkeys for an old-time frolic in the trees."

"You won't be so frivolous when I tell you of the narrow escape I have had. See that trusty club? See the blood on it?" They were standing close to each other as he held up the blood-spattered stick.

"Oh, Hugh," she gasped, "is it blood?"

"Life's blood," he answered laconically.

"Not yours, Hugh? You are not hurt?" she cried.

"This is the beast's blood, Tennys. I am not so much as scratched, but it was a frightful encounter," he went on, with well-assumed gravity.

"Tell me about it. Where was it? What was it? Tell me everything," she begged. He took her arm and together they proceeded toward their wild home.

"After breakfast I'll take you around the bend and prove to you my valor."

"But I cannot wait and, besides, you have proved your valor. Do tell me where the blood came from."

"That awful thing plunged from the underbrush upon me so suddenly that I was almost paralyzed," he said soberly. "I didn't have much time to think, and I don't know what I should have done if it had not been for this excellent club, which I had cut for a rather inglorious purpose. With one of the very best strokes a golfer ever made I cracked his skull."

"His skull!"

"Likewise his neck. Then I cut his throat."

"Oh, Hugh!" breathlessly.

"And I'm going back after breakfast to carve him up into roasts, steaks and soups enough to last us for a month."

"Oh, it must have been something gigantic. Was it a rhinoceros?" she cried ecstatically.

"Rhinoceros soup!" he exclaimed in disgust. She was properly contrite. "I'll tell you what I killed, if you'll promise to endure the shock—and not tell any one else." He placed his lips close to her little ear and whispered in awe-struck tones, "A turtle!"

"A turtle! Why, a baby could kill a turtle. You are no longer a hero. Enough to last a month! Hugh Ridgeway, are you delirious?" she exclaimed in fine scorn.

"Wait till you see him. He weighs a ton," he said proudly.

After their breakfast of nuts, fruit and water they started for the little beach, Lady Tennys vastly excited. Her exclamations on seeing the sea monster amused Hugh beyond measure.

"I never dreamed a turtle could be so immense," she cried. "This one must be a thousand years old."

"If he is, we'll have tough steaks," observed he grimly. Later on he carved several fine steaks from the turtle and cleaned the upper shell carefully, wisely concluding to retain it for the usefulness it was sure to afford sooner or later. "There is one thing to be done," said he, when they sat down to rest. "I must climb up that mountain and plant a white flag to show that we are here if a ship should pass. I'll do that as soon as I have rested, provided I can find anything white that is large enough to be seen from a distance."

She looked far out over the harbor for a minute, a tinge of red running to her ears.

"A handkerchief would be too small, wouldn't it?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so," he answered glumly.

Soon afterward she left him and went to the cave, bidding him to await her return. When she came back she carried in her hand a broad piece of white cloth, which she laid before him on the grass. There was a look of modest reluctance in her eyes when he glanced quickly up at them. A cherished underskirt, ripped ruthlessly from waistband to ruffle, making one broad white flag of the finest texture, was her offering.

"Use that, Hugh." She could not resist smiling as she pointed to it.

"It will be the very thing," he said, arising and taking the garment from the ground somewhat carefully.

"It won't hurt you," she said, laughing frankly; whereupon he waved it rudely above his head and pointed to the pinnacle of the rock.

"With this I shall scale the rock and skirt the bay!"

Within ten minutes he was on his way up the incline, carrying his stout stick in his hand, another heavier and stronger one being bound to his back with the white signal attached. She accompanied him to the point where the ascent became difficult and full of danger.

"Be careful, Hugh," she said; "it looks so dangerous. If you find there is any possibility of falling, don't attempt to go to the top. You are so daring, you Americans, that you do not recognize peril at all Promise me, or I shall not allow you to go on."

He looked down into her serious upturned eyes and promised. Then he resumed the ascent, with a queer flutter of adulation in his heart.

From time to time he paused to rest. In each instance he looked below, waving his hand encouragingly to the anxious one who watched him so closely. On, over fierce crags, around grim towers, along steep walls, higher and higher he crawled. Twice he slipped and fell back several feet. When he glanced down, cold perspiration standing on his forehead, he saw her bending with averted face, her hands pressed to her eyes as if she expected his body to come crashing to her feet. With recovered energy he shouted to her, and the quick, glad glance upward was enough to make the remainder of the ascent glorious to him. At last, his hands and knees bleeding, he crawled upon the small, flat top of the mountain, five hundred feet above the breakers, three hundred feet above the woman he had left behind.

The sea wind whistled in his ears as he arose to his feet. His knees trembled and he grew momentarily dizzy as he looked out over the vast, blue plain before him. Fear seized upon him; there came a wild desire to plant his flag and hurry from the death-like summit. Sitting down, he nervously unfastened the pole and flag, looking about as he did so for a place to plant the beacon. For one moment his heart sank only to bound with joy in the next. Almost at his elbow ran a crevasse in the rock, deep and narrow. It was but an instant's work to jam the pole into this crevasse, and the white flag was fluttering to the breeze. He was certain it would be days before the winds could whip it to shreds.

A feeling of helplessness and dismay came over him as he gave thought to the descent. In his eagerness to begin the hazardous attempt, he almost forgot the chief object of his climb to the top—the survey of the surrounding country. As far as he could see there stretched the carpet of forest land, the streak of beach and the expanse of water. In the view there was not one atom of proof that humanity existed within a radius of many miles. Growing calmer, he scanned the wonderful scene closely, intently, hoping to discover the faintest trace of aught save vegetable life, all without reward. He was about to begin the descent when a faint cry came to him from far below. Clinging to the edge of the topmost rock, he looked downward.

Lady Tennys was pointing excitedly toward the little bay on his left. A single glance in that direction filled him with amazement, then consternation. Recklessly he entered upon the descent. Obstacles that had seemed impassable as he thought of them on the summit were passed safely and hurriedly.

How he reached her side so quickly, he could not have explained if he tried, but in less than five minutes he stood with her, clasping her hand and looking anxiously toward the sands on which the great back of the turtle lay upward to the sun.



CHAPTER XXI

GODS FROM THE SEA

Drawn up to the beach were three long canoes, near which were nearly a score of brown-skinned, almost wholly naked savages, with spears, shields and war clubs. They were excitedly inspecting the footprints in the sand. Hugh and Lady Tennys looked down upon this startling picture in speechless concern.

"Where did they come from?" whispered he.

"I did not see them until they were beaching the boats," replied his white-faced companion. "Do you think they have seen us?"

"Hardly, but they will begin a search at once. See, they are now starting to follow those tracks. By Heaven, they'll find us, and what chance have we against them? Good Lord, this pocket knife is worse than nothing. We must hide,—and quickly, too."

"Where can we go, Hugh? Where can we go?" she cried, panic-stricken.

"We must climb up among the crags and lie down. They can't see us there, and they certainly can't track us over that stone plateau. Quick! We have no time to lose."

He fairly pushed her ahead of him, up to the row, of sharp, jutting stones. In an instant they were completely obscured from view.

"I'd rather leap off this rock into the sea than be captured by those horrible things," she half sobbed. "Hugh, do you think they would eat us?"

"The Lord knows. I can see them down there holding a consultation. Move over here and you can see the whole valley. Don't be afraid; they can't see us." She moved over timidly. Crouching side by side they watched the operations below. The visitors, evidently mystified by the footprints, were huddled together, gesticulating wildly. They ran hither and thither like so many ants, minutely examining the mysterious tracks. After a long time Hugh gave vent to an exclamation.

"By George! I know what's the matter. They can't understand the prints of our shoes. Our naked footprints are clear enough to them, but I'll bet my soul they've never seen an impression made by a shoe. They are your and my footprints, you know, with and without shoes."

"Mine? Why, Hugh Ridgeway, I—never—oh, I never thought!" she exclaimed, deeply embarrassed after her first expression of wonder and incredulity. Then she leaned forward and strained her eyes as if expecting to see the slender little bottoms of her feet in the tell-tale sand. At that moment the brown band divided into squads, a half dozen coming toward the mountain, the others remaining with the boats.

"They are after us, Tennys. I have no weapon but this club, but I will use it as long as I can stand. I'll protect you to the last. If they kill me, the only thing left for you to do is to crawl to the ledge over there and jump off. We must not be taken."

She felt a strange sense of confidence and security in the broad back of the man beside her. His jaw was set. His cheeks pale, his eyes burning with the intensity that thrilled his whole being. The strong white hand clutched the club fiercely. He was no longer the light-hearted, inconsequent youth she had known on board the ship.

The brown figures came into sight again, flitting here and there, pausing in wonder beside the stone table, inspecting the cracked nuts critically, and closely examining the ground on all sides. At last four or five of them sped up the ledge to the cave.

"They have found our hotel," said Hugh grimly. She gulped and could do no more than nod.

A tall fellow with a long spear and a huge shield, stripped to the loins, about which was a white cloth, ventured up the slope. Suddenly he halted and called his companions to his side. He had found a footprint in a bit of sand on the rocky surface. Without more ado the squad scattered and began the ascent, each man eyeing the ground eagerly. Occasionally those nearest the centre would pause and point to a track. "The good Lord help us!" murmured Ridgeway.

Both were fascinated by the approach of the savages. It was not until they were within a hundred feet of them that Hugh bethought himself and drew her back, entirely out of sight. At least, he thought she could not be seen, but he was mistaken. A portion of her white dress protruded, and a triumphant yell announced the fact that it had met the eyes of a searcher. Wondering what had caused the sudden yell, Hugh peered around the corner of the rock, and to his dismay found the whole band staring at their hiding place.

"They have seen us," he cried. "Remember, Tennys, what I told you. It's probably a case of fight on my part. Let 'em come, spears and all!" He stood erect, his eyes flashing with excitement and eagerness. Taking a few steps to one side, he stood in full view of the searchers, glaring down upon them defiantly, his club in his rigid right hand. He expected a shower of spears. To his utter amazement, however, the fierce-looking warriors, open mouthed and apparently terror-stricken, slunk backward, huddling together, all the time staring at him with bulging eyes. His first thought was that they were surprised to find him so bold, but the next act on their part caused him to gasp with wonder.

With one accord the entire band cast weapons aside and fell face downward, beating their heads against the rock, just as he had seen Arabians and Nubians perform in saluting some mighty potentate. The brown backs remained in that position for a full minute before he could call his trembling companion to his side.

"What does it mean?" whispered she at last. "Are they dead?"

"They are really there, then? By George, I thought I was dreaming. Tennys, they are actually doing us homage."

"Then they are harmless," she cried joyously.

"I believe I could go down and cut off their ears without hearing a protest."

"But you won't, will you?"

"It would be barbarous, totally uncalled for, I'm sure. I can't understand their warlike appearance, though. Those fellows look as if they were out for blood."

"Perhaps they are at war with some other tribe and not with the white people. My hus—Lord Huntingford says they fight among themselves incessantly."

"That's it. It is a band of foragers, no doubt. But what are we going to do about it?" Hugh was nonplussed. The brown backs and bobbing heads still stretched before them in almost comical humbleness.

"It may be a trick."

"It stands us in hand to remain where we are until we know what they intend to do next."

"I hope they'll get up and go away."

"I guess I'll yell down and ask them what they want."

"I wouldn't, Hugh," she entreated. "If we leave them alone, they may go away presently." He looked at her and laughed, for he was growing less uneasy with each passing moment.

"Hey, there!" he yelled. "How are you?"

Slowly the head-bobbing ceased and dark faces were lifted toward the elevation. For the first time the newcomers saw the beautiful face of Lady Tennyson. They struggled to their feet, the tall chief stepping forward with outstretched arms. Then in some wild gibberish he began to speak, half to the white witnesses, half to the sky and sun.

"What the dickens is he talking about?" murmured the mystified American. "Perhaps he's asking us to surrender."

"He is either appealing to the sun or praying to the sky," said his companion.

"I have it!" cried Hugh. "He thinks we are angels." Despite the gravity of the moment she giggled delightedly.

"Then we may as well sit down and await developments," she said a moment later, as they observed the whole band go face downward on the sand again—all save the chief. The white people seated themselves on the ledge and watched the impassioned jabberer. Presently the prostrate figures arose and in mute submission spread forth their arms and bent their heads, standing like bronze statues in the glaring sunlight, all to the increased astonishment of those who had expected to become victims of their torture.

"This beats all I ever knew," exclaimed Ridgeway. "It begins to look as though they are either friendly or afraid of us. What shall we do?"

"I will follow you, Hugh, if you think it best to go down to them. I do not believe they will harm us."

"We will go down to them, but we must not let them think we are in the least afraid of them."

With some anxiety and a decided feeling of insecurity they arose to take the risk. Putting into use all the composure he could command, he deliberately began the descent, turning to assist her Ladyship.

"They are on the ground again, bobbing worse than ever," she whispered, for his back was toward them. In a few minutes, after a descent made more tortuous by the uncertainty of its ending, they found themselves on a level with the huddled natives. Taking her hand in his left and clutching his club nervously in his right, Hugh advanced slowly toward the band. Every nerve in his body was quivering under the strain which his apparent coolness cost. When within fifteen feet of the prostrate figures they halted and Hugh cried out boldly:

"Get up!"

Instead of obeying the command instantly, the little band peeped slyly at the strangers. Then they struggled to their feet, crowding into a bunch, the picture of bewilderment.

"By George, they look at us as if they never had seen white people before," said Hugh. With stately tread he approached the now trembling, shrinking natives, holding his left hand aloft to signify graciousness. Lady Tennys walked beside him, a smile playing on her exceedingly pale face. "My good friends, be not afraid," said he. The brown men looked at each other in deeper wonder than before.

The leader, a perfect giant, stepped forward hesitatingly, fairly pushed on by his comrades. In an awed voice he gave utterance to a most outlandish rattle of sound, the like of which his hearers never had heard. In conclusion he touched his mouth and ears and shook his head solemnly. Hugh, taking the cue, repeated the performance.

"That signifies that we don't understand each other. He sha'n't beat me on the sign language," he said. "I believe this is a great time to work in something dramatic. We can make a hit by simply going among them and laying our hands on their heads. It will be graceful and fetching, I'm sure. First, I am going to see if they are afraid of us." He suddenly threw up both hands and cried "Boo!" in a loud tone. The eyes of the watchers hung out and they jumped like so many mice at the sound. It was so laughable that she was compelled to place her handkerchief over her mouth and turn her head away. "I guess we've got 'em pretty well paralyzed," grinned Hugh. Then he went among them, placing his hands gently upon their woolly heads, Lady Tennys doing likewise. The flesh of the savages fairly quivered at the touch, yet all seemed delighted that the visitors had condescended to lay hands of kindness upon them. They began to chatter and chant softly, all the time eyeing Hugh and his companion with reverence.

"They don't seem to thaw out or show any signs of friendship," said Hugh, very much puzzled. He and his companion walked over to the shade of the rock and calmly sat down to await the next move. They now had no fear of harm at the hands of the simple though savage-looking men, who watched them from a distance jabbering excitedly.

"Hugh, I am firmly convinced that they have never seen white people before. They don't know what we are."

For five minutes they sat and discussed possibilities and probabilities, fully realizing that they were objects of awe to the savages. Finally the tall one left the group and drew near the couple, approaching in fine humility. When he was a dozen feet from them, they arose, extending friendly hands toward him. He dropped to his knees and fairly ground his head upon the rock. Then he arose and came directly to them. Hugh marvelled at his size. Tremendous muscles, cords, knots and ridges stood, out all over his symmetrical body. He peered intently at the white man's flesh and then dubiously at his own. When he turned his inspection to Tennys, his eyes riveted themselves upon her clear white face, the most gorgeously beautiful flower he ever had seen. He could not grasp the full glory of that dazzling flower; he was stupefied, helpless before the blue eyes and dazzling smile. In mute idolatry he at last lifted his puzzled gaze to the sun and then, extending his great arms upward, uttered a few low, guttural appeals to the King of the sky.

"He thinks we are from the sun," said she, keenly ingenious.

"This fellow really seems quite willing to worship us. The best we can do for the present is to set ourselves up as idols. I think I can be a very clever idol with precious little practice. You can be one without an effort. Shall we set up a worship shop among these decidedly willing subjects?"

"But, Hugh, if we go away from the coast we cannot hope to see a white man again; these poor fellows are now, for the first time, looking upon one. Should we not stay here?" she asked, full of fear and perplexity.

"If a white man ever finds this land he will discover us. Besides, we cannot live on this rock forever. It would only be a question of time until we should starve or be killed by wild beasts. I am in favor of retaining the very evident monopoly we have established in this land of nowhere."

"But if they should prove treacherous?"

"There's no mistaking the honesty of their wonder. We are real curiosities, and we have only to follow up the advantage to become regular despots." He was enthused by the possibilities that thronged his imagination.

"I will leave it all to you, Hugh. Do what you think best," she said softly and resumed her seat on the rock.

With his heart quickened by the inspiration in that trusting face, Hugh boldly stepped to the side of the brown giant, deliberately taking his hand to lead him to the edge of the precipice.

There, by signs and gesticulations, he endeavored to tell him that they came from over the sea. From the awed expression on the face of the savage he guessed that he had increased the mystery. It was quite evident that his auditor now believed them to be from the bottom of the sea instead of from the sun. To Hugh it mattered little as long as he could have the wand of power over their heads. He delighted the chief by making him understand that he and his companion would accompany them in the boats. The word was conveyed to his warriors, and a wild chatter of joy went up from among them. They fell upon their faces and groaned in mighty discord.

Within a quarter of an hour the light bark canoes were speeding toward the harbor mouth, big brown arms manning the paddles vigorously. Ridgeway and Tennys sat facing each other in the foremost boat, the chief steering. Their turtle shell was in another boat, and Hugh did not forget the good old spar that lay on the beach below. Hour after hour passed, the oarsmen paddling the same stroke, never tiring, never faltering. The passengers at last began to lose interest in the gorgeous scenery along the coast they were skirting. Where would this startling journey end? When would the indefatigable oarsmen lay down their paddles to rest? When would they be able to procure food and drink?

The sun was sinking toward the water line, the forest along the uneven coast was merging into one vast green shadow, the waters were growing blacker and blacker, and yet the row of canoes continued its wearisome glide toward a seemingly unattainable end. Lady Tennys became so tired and sleepy that her long lashes could not be restrained from caressing her cheeks, nor could her dreamy eyes bear the strain of wakefulness. Hugh, observing her fatigue, persuaded her to turn about in the boat and lie back against his shoulder. Soon she was sleeping soundly, her face protected from the dying sun by a readjustment of her palm-leaf bonnet.

Ridgeway was beginning to fight against the effects of an ungovernable drowsiness when the boat in which they sat suddenly turned toward the beach. Long, powerful strokes sent the little craft whizzing in the new direction. Just as the sun's last rays lost themselves in the night, the prow glided upon the sand and the oarsmen sprang out to carry him and the fair sleeper ashore.



CHAPTER XXII

FLESH SUCCEEDS STONE

Lady Tennys rubbed her eyes and stared blankly about her when Hugh awoke her. The darkness and the strange forms frightened her, but his reassuring words brought remembrance of the unique trip and with it the dim realization that they had landed at last.

If their first landing place was wonderful, this was doubly so. Despite the darkness, they were able to see quite distinctly the general outline of the coast. Two mammoth rocks, as large apparently as the one they had left behind, rose toward the hazy moonlit sky, far in shore, like twin sentinels, black and forbidding. Between them a narrow stretch of sky could be seen, with the moon just beyond. Entranced, they gazed upon the vivid yet gloomy panorama bursting from the shades of night almost as if it were advancing upon them. So immense, so startling, were these vast towering columns, so brilliant was the sky behind them, that the wonder-struck strangers found difficulty in controlling a desire to turn about and fly from the impending rush of mountain, moon and sky. In the first moments of breathless observation it seemed to them that the great rocks were moving toward the sea and that the sky was falling with them, giving the frightful impression that they were soon to be crushed in the ponderous fall. They were exchanging expressions of relief when the big chief came up and prostrated himself at their feet.