Mechanically he stretched forth his hand to meet hers, and she pressed into it something light and soft. 

 “It was nothing,” he said dazedly, wondering. “Thank you. I—my head feels queer—but I—think—I—could—go to sleep—now.” 

 He lay gently down on the soft sand, which seemed to rise to meet him. Half swooning and wholly engulfed in sleep, he stretched his great bulk and lay gratefully down, and the materia medica bottles trooped out into the troubled night and were lost in its depths. 

 Dolly Eavenden stood and looked down, musing upon the strong-limbed figure, and at the hand whose fingers, alone of all the frame, were unrelaxed. 

 “I wonder if I’ve made a mistake,” she said with misgivings which were strange to her positive and rather self-willed character. “Pshaw! No; it is all right.” 

 

CHAPTER FOUR THE DEATH IN THE BUOY

HALF an hour’s sleep is short rations for a man who has experienced little untroubled unconsciousness for five weeks. Colton struggled angrily against the flask. 

H

 “I don’t want it, I tell you! Go to the devil and take it with you.” He struck out blindly, angrily. A cool, firm hand, closed around his wrist. 

 “You must get up,” said Helga Johnston’s voice firmly. “Swallow some of this brandy.” 

 “I’m sorry,” said Colton penitently. “Did I curse you out? Please let me sleep.” 

 The girl was quick-witted. “We want your help,” she said. 

 Colton sat up. She had struck the right note. Docilely he took the brandy, and got to his feet. 

 Haynes came up and steadied him. “Miss Johnston and I have our lives to thank you for,” he said briefly. “You’d better get home. Some of the life-savers will help you.” 

 “No, I’m all right,” declared Colton. “Where’s the man Miss Johnston saved? Let’s have a peep at him. I’m a physician.” 

 “Are you?” said Haynes eagerly. “Then I want you to look at one of the men on the cliff, as soon as you’ve finished with Helga’s waif.” 

 Prev. P 15/120 next