as fast as he could, and get to Dunroe?

Thinking that the water did not much matter, he kept on sailing tack
after tack, till the water increased so much that it brought with it a
chill of horror as well as cold; for there could be no mistake in the
fact that the weight of water in the boat interfered largely with its
progress, and Max felt that if he delayed baling much longer she might
fill and sink.

He hesitated for a moment or two, and then tried to turn the boat's head
so as to meet the wind. In this he succeeded, and, as the sail shivered
and flapped, he looked for the tin baler. This he did not find, because
in his excitement he forgot to look in the right place, so in his flurry
he took off his cap and set to work with that, dipping and pouring the
water over the side. A tiring job at the best of times, and with proper
implements; wearisome in the extreme with no better baler than a cap;
but Max made up in perseverance what was wanting in skill, and before
very long he had satisfied himself, by comparison with some paint-marks,
that the water was not gaining.

At the same time he did not feel that he was reducing it much; and the
difficulty stared him in the face that he could not keep on baling and
make progress too.

Taking out his knife, he made a scratch at the level of the water, and,
once more taking the helm, the boat gracefully bent over and sped on.

The journey now grew tediously laborious. The afternoon was passing,
and it seemed to Max that he would never reach Dunroe; for at every tack
he paused to examine his mark, and found that the water had gained, so
that he was compelled to stop and bale once more.

He looked for the leak, but it was invisible. All he could make out was
that it must be somewhere under the boards laid in the bottom of the
boat.

For quite a couple of hours did this go on, with the water still
increasing, and Dunroe appeared to be as far off as ever; while the
lad's task was Sisyphean, since, as fast as he baled the water out, it
seemed to return.

There was something else, too, for him to combat. At first he had
worked with plenty of spirit, but after many repetitions of the task a
deadly sense of fatigue began to grow upon him, and as it affected his
body, so it did his mind, till it seemed as if a great black cloud were
appearing. Despair rode upon that cloud, and, as he worked, his face
burned, but his heart chilled, and in imagination he saw himself sinkin