"Then you should appeal to him to abandon this mad undertaking. It is

not fair to you. It is more than unfair to those who have entrusted

their lives to his keeping."

Isobel would have risen in her excitement, had not Elsie leaped to her

feet.

"Oh, Isobel," she cried, all a-quiver with disdain, "can you not for

once conquer the self that is destroying your very soul? Neither by

word nor act shall you interfere between Arthur Courtenay and his duty.

Would you have him cling ignobly to life like that poor dandy whom he

has sent to herd with savages? Be sure he has not forgotten those who

are beholden to him. We are his first care. Let it be mine to leave

him unhindered in the task he has undertaken!"

Isobel was cowed into silence. Elsie's hero-worship had reached a

height beyond her comprehension. She would never understand how a

woman who loved a man could send him voluntarily to his death, and her

shallow mind did not contemplate the possibility of Courtenay's

refusing to be swayed by any other consideration than that which his

conscience told him was right.

Thus, at arm's length as it were, they waited until they caught the

sharp command "Give way there!" and the plash of oars told them that

the boat had really started on its journey shorewards. Then Isobel,

glancing furtively at her companion, saw the tears stealing down her

cheeks, and the situation came back from the transcendental to that

which was intelligible to her lower ideals.

"I am sorry," she whispered, catching Elsie's hand timidly. "I said

what I thought was for the best. At any rate, it is too late now."

Too late! The other girl groped blindly for the door. She felt that

she would yield to the strain if she did not go on deck and catch a

parting glimpse of the man who had become dearer to her than life

itself. As she made her way forward, Joey ran to meet her. He was

whining anxiously. He seemed to be demanding that sympathy which she

alone could give him. In his half-human way, he was asking: "Why has my master gone away in that boat? And why did he not take me

with him? When my master goes ashore he never leaves me on board; what

is the reason of to-day's exception?"

On the poop she found Boyle, Christobal, Gray and Walker. A number of

Chileans were leaning over the rails of the main deck. All the men

were talking earnestly. It was ominous that they should cease their

conversation the instant she appeared. One man may conceal his fears,

but twenty cannot. Their studied unconcern, their covert glances under

lowered eye-lids, told her that they believed the occupants of the

life-boat were in gravest peril.




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