While the dog was lapping a second supply, the Kansas shifted again

with a disconcerting suddenness. The water in the cabin swirled across

the floor as the ship was restored to an even keel. The movement

dislodged the packet of letters. It fell, and Elsie rescued it a

second time. Christobal watched her with undisguised admiration.

"Really," he said, "I find you wonderful."

"Why?" Certainly she might be pardoned for seeking an explanation of

any compliment just then.

"Why? Por Dios! Excuse me, but that slipped out sideways. Just

imagine any woman being able to attend to a dog and pick up a bundle of

letters at the very instant the ship appeared to be slipping off into

deep water!"

"Is not that the best thing that can happen?"

"My dear young lady, we should sink instantly."

"How do you know?"

"Well--er--I don't exactly know, but I assume that the hull was broken

long since."

"I don't see why you should take that for granted. These very

movements seem to me to argue buoyancy. Somehow, I feel far safer here

than if I were--"

She was interrupted by the opening of the door, and the consequent roar

of the gale. It was Walker, the engineer, a lank, swarthy man, with

long black mustaches which drooped forlornly down the sides of his

mouth. He shouted, with the inimitable accent of Tyneside: "Yo' wanted, Docto' Chwistobal. The captain thinks Mr. Boyle is

bettaw."

"May I come, too?" asked Elsie.

"No, missie. You bide he-aw."

"Please tell me before you go--is the ship full of water?"

"She's dwy as a bone," said Walker. A sea splashed over him and sent a

shower into the cabin. "A vewy wet bone," he added, with a broad grin,

for the Northumbrian had a ready wit though he had such a solemn jowl,

and he could not pronounce an "r" to save his life.

"Between you and the captain, I am beginning to be infected by belief,"

said Christobal to Elsie. "Let me recommend you to close the door

behind us."

And she was left with the dog for company once more. A chronometer

showed that the hour was past midnight. She knew sufficient of the sea

to understand that the clock was probably accurate, as the course had

practically followed the same meridian since the Kansas quitted

Valparaiso. So the ship and those left on board had entered on another

day! How little she had thought that to be possible when the awful

knowledge first came to her that the Kansas was ashore! How long ago

was that? Then she remembered that when Courtenay placed her in his

cabin with the promise to bring Isobel to her, she had noticed the

time--eleven o'clock. Was it conceivable that only one hour had

elapsed since she and her four-footed friend were flung all of a heap

into a corner by the impact of the vessel against the sand-bank? One

hour! Surely there was some mistake; she puzzled over the problem,

recounting each event since the conclusion of dinner, and finally

convinced herself that her recollection was not at fault. An hour--one

of eternity's hours! A verse of the 90th Psalm came to her mind: "For a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday when it is

past, and as a watch in the night."




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