ew and wild. Less than a dozen were killed in
all. By the last week in March Dead Men's Point stood face to face with
famine.

Then it was that old Thibault had an idea.

"There is sperm oil on the Island of Birds," said he, "in the
lighthouse, plenty of it, gallons of it. It is not very good to taste,
perhaps, but what of that? It will keep life in the body. The Esquimaux
drink it in the north, often. We must take the oil of the lighthouse to
keep us from starving until the supply-boat comes down."

"But how shall we get it?" asked the others. "It is locked up. Nataline
Fortin has the key. Will she give it?"

"Give it?" growled Thibault. "Name of a name! of course she will give
it. She must. Is not a life, the life of all of us, more than a light?"

A self-appointed committee of three, with Thibault at the head, waited
upon Nataline without delay, told her their plan, and asked for the
key. She thought it over silently for a few minutes, and then refused
point-blank.

"No," she said, "I will not give the key. That oil is for the lamp. If
you take it, the lamp will not be lighted on the first of April; it will
not be burning when the supply-boat comes. For me, that would be shame,
disgrace, worse than death. I am the keeper of the light. You shall not
have the oil."

They argued with her, pleaded with her, tried to browbeat her. She was
a rock. Her round under-jaw was set like a steel trap. Her lips
straightened into a white line. Her eyebrows drew together, and her eyes
grew black.

"No," she cried, "I tell you no, no, a thousand times no. All in this
house I will share with you. But not one drop of what belongs to the
light! Never."

Later in the afternoon the priest came to see her; a thin, pale young
man, bent with the hardships of his life, and with sad dreams in his
sunken eyes. He talked with her very gently and kindly.

"Think well, my daughter; think seriously what you do. Is it not our
first duty to save human life? Surely that must be according to the will
of God. Will you refuse to obey it?"

Nataline was trembling a little now. Her brows were unlocked. The tears
stood in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She was twisting her hands
together.

"My father," she answered, "I desire to do the will of God. But how
shall I know it? Is it not His first command that we should love and
serve Him faithfully in the duty which He has given us? He gave me this
light to keep. My father kept it. He is dead.