prayed, in a very seemly fashion. She went away, of her
charity in prayer for his soul.

He stood there still, after his prayer was finished, and his bread, and
looked over the sea long and earnestly; for from that high ledge he saw
away to the Isle Sinister, encompassed with its network of reefs; the
tide running low showed them in black lines, outspread like a map below.

An audacious design he revolved, no less than to achieve the Isle
Sinister yet. The long lines of reefs forbade his boat, but him they
fairly invited, if strong swimming and deft footing could pass him on,
from rock to wave, and from wave to rock, out to the far front of the
great mass where the Warders stood.

He argued with his conscience, that it was no such risk as that he was
bound to encounter for regaining the open sea, since this attempt need
never commit him past retreat.

Sighting his boat uncovered, without delay he went down. He got it
emptied, the leak plugged quite sufficiently for the time, the anchor set
out against the return of the tide; then he raced, plunged, and swam for
the Isle Sinister.

The first stretch went fairly; he met the rough handling of the waves as
a sturdy game, and opposed with an even heart. Before long he had to
recognise grim earnest, and do battle with all his might, so hard were
the elements against him and so cruel. The waves hustled and buffeted and
hurled; and though he prevailed by slow degrees, the rocks connived for
his detriment. Again and again he won to a resting-place, so battered,
breathless, and spent, that to nourish fortitude, he needed to consider
the steady ascent of the vast rock up from the horizon against his
nearing. A moment of elation it was, when, looking back to compare, he
noted that the shore cliffs were dwarfed by the nearer proportions of the
Isle.

But his stout heart made too little allowance for the strain upon loyal
members, so that at last he bungled, fell short at a leap disastrously,
and was swept away, hardly escaping, gashed and stunned. His memory
afterwards could but indistinctly record how he fared thenceforward with
rock and wave. A nightmare remained of swirling waters mad for his life,
and of dark crags swinging down upon him; coming nearer, swinging lower;
with a great shock they smote him. So he came to the Isle Sinister.

He clung precariously, lashed by the waves into an effort after a higher
ledge. As he drew himself up to safety, his brain was clearing a