action.

"I picked up the shell along the beach," he said. "It doesn't make a bad
drinking-cup. We'll find it useful. Mind you don't lose it."

Again that tone of command which had irritated her before. She looked up
angrily, but he was paying no attention to her. Putting his hand in his
pocket he brought out some mango fruit and offered it to her.

"Here's something you can break your fast with. There's plenty of it
growing hereabouts. There are limes and cocoanuts, too, for the
picking. When I get my tackle fixed, I shall be able to catch some
fish."

He threw himself down on the sloping beach as though weary after the
long exploring tour, and, picking up a splinter of wood, he started to
draw lines on the sand.

Grace, busy eating, her white teeth biting hungrily into the luscious
fruit, watched him without speaking. His abrupt manner intimidated her.
She was afraid of him, and the realization of her own utter helplessness
only served to make her more nervous. Finally, summoning up courage, she
asked:

"What did you see--could you make out where we are?"

He looked up and nodded. Then, with his bit of wood, he began to draw in
the soft sand a diagram of their position. Carelessly he said:

"We're on an island about ten miles long by about three miles wide. It
seems to be of volcanic origin and uninhabited. The land is low and
swampy in parts, with a lot of thick brushwood, but there's a big hill
on which we can build a signal fire."

"What are our chances of being sighted and taken off?" she interrupted
eagerly.

"Decidedly slim, I should say," was his laconic rejoinder.

Grace stopped eating, and a look of dismay overspread her face. He
continued:

"You see we're far out of the regular steamship track. Not being down on
the chart, navigators probably never heard of this island. Our only hope
is in the whalers. These waters are full of whales, and whaling-vessels
come here after them from all parts of the world. Some no doubt land
here to replenish their supply of fresh water. Or a passing whaler may
sight our fire."

"How long will we have to wait?" she demanded anxiously.

He shrugged his shoulders as if the length of their enforced sojourn on
the island were a matter of no concern to him. Indifferently he replied:

"One can't tell. Three months--six months--a year!"

"A year!" gasped Grace. "How could I live here a year, or even six
months--I should go mad."

He smiled grimly.

"Oh, we get