on his breast, and he was pressing back my wet hair with strong and
tender hands.

What was this he was saying? "My lassie, my little, little lassie!"

And no less incredible than this it was to feel his cheek pressed,
very gently, against my hair--

After a little my self-control came back to me. I stopped my
senseless childish crying, lifted my head and tried to speak. I
could only whisper, "You came, you came!"

"Of course I came!" he said huskily. "There, don't tremble so--you
are safe--safe in my arms!"

After a while he lifted me into the stern and began to maneuver the
boat out of the cave. I suppose at another time I should have
realized the peril of it. The fierce flow through the archway all
but swamped us, the current threatened to hurl us against the
rocks, but I felt no fear. He had come to save me, and he would.
All at once the dreadful shadow of the cavern was left behind, and
the sunshine immersed my chilled body like a draught of wine. I
lay huddled in the stern, my cheek upon my hand, as he rowed
swiftly across the cove and drove the boat upon the beach.

Everybody but Captain Magnus was assembled there, including Crusoe.
Crusoe it was who had given warning of my danger. Like a wise
little dog, when I ignored his admonitions he had run home. At
first his uneasiness and troubled barking had got no notice. Once
or twice the Scotchman, worried by his fretfulness, had ordered him
away. Then across his preoccupied mind there flashed a doubt. He
laid down his tools and spoke to the animal. Instantly Crusoe
dashed for the rocks, barking and crying with eagerness. But the
path was closed, the tide was hurrying in, and Crusoe whined
pitiably as he crept back and crouched against the man who of
course knew better than a little dog what must be done.

Then Mr. Shaw understood. He snatched the painter of the boat and
dragged it down the beach. He was shoving off as Cookie, roused by
Crusoe's barking, appeared from the seclusion of his afternoon
siesta. To him were borne the Scotchman's parting words:

"Virginia Harding--in the cave--hot blankets--may be drowning--"

"And at dat," said Cookie, relating his part in the near-tragedy
with unction, "I jes' natchully plumped right down on mah ma'ah
bones and wrestled with de Lawd in prayah."

This unique proceeding on Cookie's part necessarily awoke the
interest both of the recovered Cuthbert Vane, just emerging after
his prolonged slumbe