d sure that he could laugh outright in
answer to the expostulation of the Sinister buoys. Yet he crossed himself
more than once.

'We will do it, Beloved, you and I.'

To and fro he hovered awhile to consider the lie of the reefs and select
his way. Then the sail clapped and swelled again, and the boat heeled, as
boldly he turned her, and steered within the buoy-bells away for the
breakers. Again he crossed himself as now were he and his boat committed
on a challenge to fortune.

Gracious to bold and dexterous handling the boat glided into the maze.
The disposition of the outer channels was so favourable as to have gone
far in beguiling the boy to his rash undertaking; but there were hedges
of wicked breakers that thwarted him and turned him aside disappointed.
Creeping along warily with only a corner of sail, steering with fine
sleight through the narrows, and avoiding eddies, he carried his boat
unscathed where never another man he knew could dare to follow. But ah!
how meagre was that satisfaction, since far, yet too far from him the
Isle Sinister held reserve. But at least he was able to scan the rocky
mass to advantage. It towered up with straight, repellent walls towards
the land; it sloped down steeply where he desired to win; but there to
balk him, minatory in aspect, stood the Warders--five detached rocks--so
lofty that the highest columns of surf spouting there fell short of their
crowns. The ugliest threat he recognised bided there, close against
success.

'No fault is yours, Beloved, if we cannot do it: nor hardly mine either,
I think. Were but one other with us we might be well-nigh confident. With
Philip at the oars! None we wanted to share with us--and yet! Ah! no. Not
he nor any would.'

He was deeply involved. At least a mile of grim discouragement stretched
on every hand. Then he came upon the sunken hulk of an old wreck.
Fiercer eddies and narrower channels constrained him to drop sail and
take to the oars. A hard, dangerous, disheartening struggle set him
nearer by a poor measure, but lost him in hope on the way.

'Fools and cowards all! Pleased would they be were I foiled, they
knowing. How they would jeer; ay, with worse, too. It might go hard with
me. But you, Beloved, never fear that I should fail you, if they
tried--no, they would not,--not if they care for whole bones.

'To think that if we win, not for months may I praise you by the tale,
not till we both have disproved and outlived th