She brushed away the tears determinedly, and looked at the boat,

already a white speck on the green carpet of the bay. She could see

Courtenay distinctly; some magnetic impulse must have gone out from

her, because she had not been watching him longer than a couple of

seconds when he turned and waved his hand. She replied instantly,

fluttering a handkerchief, poor girl, long after it became impossible

for her to distinguish whether or not he returned her signals. In the

calm glory of the sunlit estuary, he might have been bent on a pleasant

picnic. It was outrageous to think of Good Hope Inlet as a place of

skulls; yet she knew that the sea floor beneath the ship was already

littered with bodies of the dead. Women would wait in vain for their

men to return; why should she be spared?

At last she appealed to Mr. Boyle, who was nearest to her.

"Who is sitting next to Captain Courtenay?" she asked, and she had a

fleeting impression that he was anxious for her to speak, so quickly

did he answer.

"Tollemache. He shinned down the ladder as the first volunteer; the

skipper ordered him to get out, but he said he was deaf. Anyhow, I'm

glad he is there. Courtenay ought to have one sure enough white man by

his side."

"And what are they attempting?"

"Huh, it's a bold plan, an' I'm not goin' to condemn it on that

account. Have you heard this morning's news--how Suarez found out from

the Indians that eleven of our crew are hiding in a cave on Guanaco

Hill?"

"Something of it, not all. But why--why has Captain Courtenay gone off

in such a hurry?"

"Well, Miss Elsie, he figures that an open effort by daylight is the

only way to rescue them. They will have seen our signals, and they can

hardly fail to sight the boat. When he is close inshore they are sure

to make a dash for it, and he hopes to get them off before the Indians

wake up to the game he is playing. There are eight men in the boat,

and, with eleven others to help, there shouldn't be much difficulty in

keepin' the savages at a proper distance."

"How soon--will he--reach the landing-place?"

"Huh, mebbe an hour; an' another hour for the home trip. He'll be

aboard for tea."

Boyle uttered that concluding statement a trifle too airily. Elsie,

for the first time in her life, knew what it meant to want to scream

aloud.

The dog was dancing about excitedly, and whining without cease. She

stooped and took him up in her arms.

"Please, Joey, be quiet," she murmured, her voice breaking with a

stifled sob. She turned again to Mr. Boyle, who sedulously avoided her

eyes.




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