Then she set the bucket out to catch the rain. She felt
keenly the need of food and water; and now that there was no one to
heed her movements, she found it difficult to keep up the show of
courage. She still trusted in Hand; but even at best he might yet be
several hours in returning; and cold and hunger can reduce even the
stoutest heart. If Hand did not return--but there was no answer to
that _if_. She believed he would come.
The soft rain cast a pall over the ocean, so that only a small patch of
sea was visible; and it flattened the waves until the blue-flashing,
white-capped sea of yesterday was now a smooth, gray surface, touched
here and there by a bit of frothy scum. Agatha looked out through the
deep curtain of mist, remembering the night, the _Jeanne D'Arc_, and
her recent peril. Most vividly of all she heard in her memory a voice
shouting, "Keep up! I'm coming, I'm coming!" Ah, what a welcome
coming that had been! Was he to die, now, here on her hands, after the
worst of their struggle was over? She turned quickly back to James,
vowing in her heart it should not be; she would save him if it lay in
human power to save.
Her hardest task was to move their camp up into the edge of the
brushwood, where they might have the shelter of the trees. There was a
place, near the handle of the sickle, where the rock-wall partly
disappeared, and the undergrowth from the cliff reached almost to the
beach. It was from here that Hand had begun his ascent; and here
Agatha chose a place under a clump of bayberry, where she could make
another bed for James. The ground there was still comparatively dry.
She coaxed James to his feet and helped him, with some difficulty, up
to the more sheltered spot. He was stronger, physically, now in his
delirium than he had been during his period of sanity in the night.
She made him sit down while she ran back to gather an armful of the fir
boughs to spread out for his bed; but she had scarcely started back for
the old camp before James got to his feet and staggered after her. She
met him just as she was returning, and had to drop her load, take her
patient by the arm, and guide him back to the new shelter. He went
peacefully enough, but leaned on her more and more heavily, until at
last his knees weakened under him and he fell. Agatha's heart smote
her.
They were near the bayberry bush, though entirely out from its
protection. As the drizzling rain settled down thicke
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