He probably did."

"It was the only thing we had to cook abalones in. Make me think to look
into the galley to-morrow....This ground's as hard as nails, for all
your blankets....Well, good-night, mate; I'm going to sleep."

"Good-night, Moran."

Three hours later Wilbur, who had not closed his eyes, sat up and looked
at Moran, sleeping quietly, her head in a pale glory of hair; looked at
her, and then around him at the silent, deserted land.

"I don't know," he said to himself. "Am I a right-minded man and a
thoroughbred, or a mush-head, or merely a prudent, sensible sort of chap
that values his skin and bones? I'd be glad to put a name to myself."
Then, more earnestly he added: "Do I love her too much, or not enough,
or love her the wrong way, or how?" He leaned toward her, so close that
he could catch the savor of her breath and the smell of her neck, warm
with sleep. The sleeve of the coarse blue shirt was drawn up, and it
seemed to him as if her bare arm, flung out at full length, had some
sweet aroma of its own. Wilbur drew softly back.

"No," he said to himself decisively; "no, I guess I am a thoroughbred
after all." It was only then that he went to sleep.

When he awoke the sea was pink with the sunrise, and one of the bay
heads was all distorted and stratified by a mirage. It was hot already.
Moran was sitting a few paces from him, braiding her hair.

"Hello, Moran!" he said, rousing up; "how long have you been up?"

"Since before sunrise," she said; "I've had a bath in the cove where the
creek runs down. I saw a jack-rabbit."

"Seen anything of Charlie and the others?"

"They've camped on the other side of the bay. But look yonder," she
added.

The junk had come in overnight, and was about a mile and a half from
shore.

"The deuce!" exclaimed Wilbur. "What are they after?"

"Fresh water, I guess," said Moran, knotting the end of a braid. "We'd
better have breakfast in a hurry, and turn to on the 'Bertha.' The tide
is going out fast."

While they breakfasted they kept an eye on the schooner, watching her
sides and flanks as the water fell slowly away.

"Don't see anything very bad yet," said Wilbur.

"It's somewhere in her stern," remarked Moran.

In an hour's time the "Bertha Millner" was high and dry, and they could
examine her at their leisure. It was Moran who found the leak.

"Pshaw!" she exclaimed, with a half-laugh, "we can stick that up in half
an hour."

A single plank had starte