ight Judy could just see Tommy's eyes glowing from out of his
pallid face.

"He is afraid," she thought to herself, curiously. She was not afraid.
She had never been afraid of the water--poor Tommy.

She felt strangely weak, however, and all at once there came to her the
knowledge that she could not keep up any longer. The strength of the
old days was not hers--and she was tired--so tired--

She caught hold of the life-belt, and as she did so Tommy screamed,
"Don't, Judy. It won't hold us both. Don't--"

"He is afraid," she thought again, pityingly, "and I am not, and we
can't both hold on to that belt--"

Tommy babbled crazily, bemoaning his danger, sobbing now and then--but
Judy was very still.

"I can't keep up much longer. I mustn't try to hold on with Tommy. He
is afraid--poor Tommy--" she looked up at the little star, "and I'm not
afraid--I love the sea," she thought, dreamily. Then for one moment
she came out of her trance.

"Tommy, Tommy!" she cried sharply.

"What?"

"Don't let go of the belt. Hold on, no matter how tired you are. In
the morning--some one--will save you--"

"But you--wh-wh-at are you going to do, Judy?"

"Oh, I--?" she laughed faintly. "Oh, I shall be all right--all right,
Tommy," and her voice died away in an awful silence.

CHAPTER XXII

THE CASTAWAYS

"Judy--" shrieked Tommy, and suddenly the answer came in a choking cry
of joy.

"I can touch bottom, Tommy, I thought I was sinking, but it isn't over
our heads at all. We must be near shore."

Tommy put his feet down gingerly. He had hated to think of the untold
fathoms beneath him--depths which in his imagination were strewn with
shipwrecks and the bones of lost mariners.

So when his feet came in contact with good firm sand, he giggled
hysterically.

"Gee, but it feels good," he said. "Are you all right, Judy?"

But Judy had waded in and dropped exhausted on the beach.

"I don't know," she said, feebly, "I guess so."

"Where are we?" asked Tommy, splashing his way to her side.

He surveyed the land around them. In the moonlight it showed nothing
but wide beach and back of that stiff rustling sea-grass and mounds of
sand like the graves of sailors dead and gone. Not a house was in
sight--not a sign of life.

"I don't know where we are," Judy raised her head for a second, then
dropped it back, "but we are safe, Tommy Tolliver, and that's something
to be thankful for.

"I knew the sea wouldn