hem. The fourth was a sailor, either asleep or
unconscious, and Courtenay thought he recognized a severe bruise on the
man's left temple where the butt of his revolver had struck hard.

When he returned on deck he learned that two other members of the crew,
in addition to the cook, were able to work. Walker had set one to
clear up the stokehold; his companion, a fireman, had relieved Mr.
Tollemache. Indeed, the latter had gone to his cabin, and was the last
to arrive at the feast, finally putting in an appearance in a new suit
and spotless linen.

Christobal protested loudly.

"I thought this was to be a workers' meal," he said. "Tollemache has
stolen a march on us. He is quite a Bond-street lounger in appearance."

"Dirty job, stoking," said Tollemache.

"I seem to have been the only lazy person on board during the night,"
cried Elsie.

"Do you know what time it is?" asked Courtenay.

"No; about ten o'clock, I fancy."

"It is not yet half-past four."

The blue eyes opened wide. "Are you in earnest?" she demanded.

He showed her his watch. Then she perceived that the sun had not yet
risen high enough to illumine the wooded crest of the opposite cliff.
The snow-clad hills, the blue glaciers, the wonderful clearness of
atmosphere, led her to believe that the day was much more advanced.
Land and sea shone in a strange crystal light. None could tell whence
it came. It seemed to her, in that solemn hour, to be the reflection
of heaven itself. By quick transition, her thoughts flew back to the
previous night. Scarce four hours had elapsed since she had waited in
the captain's cabin, amidst the drenching spray and tearing wind, while
he took Isobel, and Mrs. Somerville, and the shrieking maid to the
boat. The corners of her mouth drooped and tears trembled on her
eyelashes. She sought furtively for a handkerchief. Knowing exactly
what troubled her, Courtenay turned to Christobal.

"This island ought to be inhabited," he said. "Can you tell me what
sort of Indians one finds in this locality?"

Christobal frowned perplexedly. During many previous voyages to Europe
he had invariably traveled on the mail steamers of smaller draft which
use the sheltered sea canal formed by the Smyth, Sarmiento, and Messier
channels, the protected water-way running for hundreds of miles to the
north from the western end of the Straits of Tierra del Fuego, and, in
some of its aspects, reminding sailors of the Clyde and