imber struck him. He gasped with pain, and sank under
the surface. When he came up, his hand struck the same piece of wood.
With a desperate effort, he dragged himself up on it, twisting his arms
and legs about it to maintain his hold.

The water, swirled by the wind, lashed him as he lay on the timber.
"Land may be within sight," he thought, "and I shall never know." His
fear and the cold began to work upon his imagination. He had a clear
mental picture of a sandy beach backed with trees. He felt sure he was
being carried past it into the open sea.

Hours passed. He began to rave at the water, at life, at everything.
Mixed, tangled masses of images heaped themselves in utter disorder in
his brain: passages of verse, bits of his trained laboratory jargon,
phrases from half-forgotten books, the delicate curves of the Water
Sprite at the exposition, and, above all, a fierce gnawing pain in his
side.

Over the roar of the wind he heard something else. Was it the tumbling
of breakers? He listened, then concluded that it was his imagination.
But they came nearer, louder; he sat up on his plank, his nerves tense.
The board lurched sidewise, spurn around, and the swell it was riding
broke over him with a force that knocked him from his position. Over and
over he rolled, until, almost unconscious, he felt his body dragging
along the sand. The undertow was pulling at him. He fought furiously,
digging his hands into the sand, and clawing desperately up the steep
sloping beach. The next breaker caught him and rolled him past the
water-line. He scrambled to his feet, and ran shakily ahead, neither
knowing nor caring what was before him.

Behind him he heard the water sweeping in. He was out of its reach, but
still he ran. A rock caught him above the knees and sent him headlong
into the sand. He became unconscious, and lay still, half doubled up.

When he recovered consciousness and sat up, a fierce sun was beating
down upon him. His head ached, and he was hungry. "There may be people
within call," he thought. Rising unsteadily, the soreness of his muscles
coming home to him, he gave a prolonged "Hello-o." A faint echo was his
answer. He formed a trumpet of his hands and shouted louder. The echo
came back stronger. "Only cliffs," he concluded.

The gnaw of hunger increased. "Clams are my best chance," he reasoned,
and, turning, he groped his way to the water. When the incoming breakers
washed his knees, he stopped. The intense