ied the voice. "I'll get you out. Wait."

And then there were no more voices.

It was about two o'clock when Hubert had entered the gorge. It was after
three when his father had roused him, and made his vain effort to save
him. Hubert was now left alone with the rising tide, whose waters rolled
forward with fearful rapidity. The beach inside was nearly level and he
saw that in an hour or so it would be covered with the waters. He tried
to trust to his father's promise, but the precious moments passed and
he began to look with terror upon the increasing storm; for every moment
the wind grew fiercer, and the surf rolled in with ever increasing
impetuosity.

He looked all around for a place of refuge, and saw nothing except
the rock which arose at the extremity of the place, at the foot of the
overhanging cliffs. It was about five feet high, and was the only place
that afforded anything like safety.

Up this he clambered, and from this he could survey the scene, but only
to perceive the full extent of his danger. For the tide rushed in more
and more swiftly, the surf grew higher and higher and he saw plainly
that before long the water would reach the summit of the rock, and that
even before then the surf in its violence would sweep him away.

The moments passed slowly. Minutes seemed in his suspense to be
transformed to hours. The sky was overspread now with black clouds; and
the gloom increased. At length the waves rolled in until they covered
all the beach in front, and began to dash against the rock on which he
had taken refuge.

The precious moments passed. Higher and higher grew the waters. They
came rolling into the cave, urged on by the fury of the billows outside,
and heaping themselves up as they were compressed into this narrow
gorge. They dashed up around the rock. The spray was tossed in his face.
Already he felt their inexorable grasp. Death seemed so near that hope
left him. He fell upon his knees with his hands clasped, and his white
face upturned. Just then a great wave rolled up and flung itself over
the rock, and over his knees as he knelt, and over his hands as he
clasped them in prayer. A few more moments and all would be over.

As hope left a calmness came--the calmness that is born of despair. Face
to face with death, he had tasted the bitterness of death, but now he
flung aside the agony of his fear and rose to his feet, and his soul
prepared itself for the end. Just then, in the midst of the