imself to be picked up.
Well, he argued, if such a thing should happen it could not be helped;
perhaps there might occur some other occasion. Besides, there was his
companion. She might possibly be alive; and if such should be the case
she would doubtless be anxious to escape; she had, in an accidental way,
come under his protection, and he must do everything he possibly could
for her.

The question as to whether life still lingered in the occupant of the
life-buoy was speedily determined; for while Leslie still lay floating
tranquilly upon his back, weighing the _pros_ and _cons_ of the
situation, a faint groan reached his ear, quickly followed by a second,
louder and more sustained; then followed certain sounds indicative of
violent sickness; the patient was getting rid of the very considerable
quantity of sea water that she had swallowed.

Leslie waited patiently until this unpleasant episode appeared to have
come to an end, when, raising himself upright in the water, he said
cheerfully--

"That's capital; you will soon be all right now. Are you feeling
tolerably comfortable in that buoy?"

"Oh Heaven!" moaned a voice that Leslie fancied was not altogether
unfamiliar to him, "is it possible that there is some one else in the
same horrible plight as my unfortunate self?"

"Nay," said Leslie, "do not speak or think of yourself as unfortunate,
at least as yet. You have thus far escaped with life--which is, I fear,
more than any one else except myself has done--and while there is life
there is hope, you know."

"Surely not in such a dreadful situation as ours!" said his companion.
"What hope dare we entertain? What possible prospect of escape have we?
Is it not a certainty that we shall perish miserably by thirst and
starvation if we succeed in avoiding death by drowning? I must confess
that I shall bitterly regret the respite that has in some mysterious way
come to me, if I am doomed to linger on and endure the protracted
horrors of death from hunger and thirst."

"Naturally you will," assented Leslie; "I fully agree with you that, if
one or the other fate must necessarily overtake us, that of drowning is
much to be preferred. But it is early yet to despair. We are in a part
of the Atlantic that is much frequented by ships; and if fate will only
be kind to us, it is quite on the cards that we may be picked up in the
course of a day or two. And surely, if this fine weather will but
last--as I believe it