"I am not going any farther," she declared. "Even you, I am sure, could
not find your way on the marshes to-night. Didn't you hear what the
fisherman said, too, that it was a flood tide? Many of the paths are
under water. I will not go any farther, Kate. If there is anything you
have to tell me, say it now."

She felt a hand suddenly tighten upon her arm, a hand which was like a
vice.

"You must come with me," Kate said. "As to the other things, do not be
foolish. On these marshes I am like a cat in a dark room. I could feel
my way across every inch of them on the blackest night that ever was. I
know how high the tide is. I measured it but half an hour since by
Treadwell's pole. You come with me, miss. You'll not miss your way by a
foot. I promise you that."

Even then Jeanne was reluctant. They were on the top of the grass-grown
dyke now, and below she could dimly see the dark, swelling water
lapping against the gravel bottom.

"But you do not understand," she declared. "I do not even know where to
put my feet. I can see nothing, and the wind is enough to blow us over
the sides. Listen! Listen how it comes booming across the sand dunes.
It is not safe here. I tell you that I must go back."

Her companion only laughed a little wildly.

"There will be no going back to-night," she said. "You must come with
me. Set your feet down boldly. If you are afraid, take this."

She handed her a small electric torch.

"It's one of those new-fangled things for making light in the
darkness," she remarked. "It's no use to me, for if I could not see I
could feel. For us who live here, 'tis but an instinct to find our way,
in darkness or in light, across the land where we were born. But if you
are nervous, press the knob and you will see."

Jeanne took the torch with a little sigh of relief.

"Go on," she said. "I don't mind so much now I have this."

Nevertheless, as they moved along she found it sufficiently alarming.
The top of the bank was but a few feet wide. The west wind, which came
roaring down across the great open spaces, with nothing to check or
divide its strength, was sometimes strong enough to blow them off their
balance. On either side of the dyke was the water, black and silent.
Here and there the torch light showed them a fishing-smack or a
catboat, high and dry a few hours ago, now floating on the bosom of the
full tide. They came to a stile, and Jeanne's courage once more failed
her.

"I cannot climb