t twenty-hour hours, anyway.
And if we're not picked up by nightfall, we've just got to hang on for
another day, that's all."

For half an hour they maintained silence, Duncan, his head resting on
the arm that was on the buoy, seemed asleep.

"Boyd?" Minnie said softly.

"Thought you were asleep," he growled.

"Boyd, if we don't come through this--"

"Stow that!" he broke in ungallantly. "Of course we're coming through.
There is isn't a doubt of it. Somewhere on this ocean is a ship that's
heading right for us. You wait and see. Just the same I wish my brain
were equipped with wireless. Now I'm going to sleep, if you don't."

But for once, sleep baffled him. An hour later he heard Minnie stir and
knew she was awake.

"Say, do you know what I've been thinking!" she asked.

"No; what?"

"That I'll wish you a Merry Christmas."

"By George, I never thought of it. Of course it's Christmas Day. We'll
have many more of them, too. And do you know what I've been thinking?
What a confounded shame we're done out of our Christmas dinner. Wait
till I lay hands on Dettmar. I'll take it out of him. And it won't be
with an iron belaying pin either, Just two bunches of naked knuckles,
that's all."

Despite his facetiousness, Boyd Duncan had little hope. He knew well
enough the meaning of one chance in a million, and was calmly certain
that his wife and he had entered upon their last few living hours--hours
that were inevitably bound to be black and terrible with tragedy.

The tropic sun rose in a cloudless sky. Nothing was to be seen. The
Samoset was beyond the sea-rim. As the sun rose higher, Duncan ripped
his pajama trousers in halves and fashioned them into two rude turbans.
Soaked in sea-water they offset the heat-rays.

"When I think of that dinner, I'm really angry," he complained, as he
noted an anxious expression threatening to set on his wife's face. "And
I want you to be with me when I settle with Dettmar. I've always been
opposed to women witnessing scenes of blood, but this is different. It
will be a beating."

"I hope I don't break my knuckles on him," he added, after a pause.

Midday came and went, and they floated on, the center of a narrow
sea-circle. A gentle breath of the dying trade-wind fanned them, and
they rose and fell monotonously on the smooth swells of a perfect summer
sea. Once, a gunie spied them, and for half an hour circled about them
with majestic sweeps. And, once, a huge rayfish, measu