As for Sigrid, she picked up a pointed stone and began to work too with desperate energy. She was naturally brave, and as long as she could do anything her heart scarcely beat faster than usual. It was the waiting-time that tried her, the clinging to that uncompromising white cliff, while below the waves surged to and fro with the noise that only that morning she had thought musical, but which now seemed to her almost intolerable. If it had not been that Roy’s arm was round her, holding her closely, she could never have borne up so long; she would have turned giddy and fallen back into the water. But his strength seemed to her equal to anything, and her perfect confidence in him filled her with a wonderful energy of endurance. In their terrible position all sense of time left them; they could not tell whether it was for minutes or for hours that they had clung to their frail refuge, when at length a shout from above reached their ears. “Courage!” cried a voice. “A boat is coming to your help. Hold on!” Hope renewed their strength in a wonderful way; they were indeed less to be pitied than those who had the fearful anxiety of rescuing them, or watching the rescue. It was Frithiof who had first discovered them; the rest of the party, after seeing over the lighthouse, had wandered along the cliffs talking to an old sailor, and, Lance being seized with a desire to see over the edge, Frithiof had set Cecil’s mind at rest by lying down with the little fellow and holding him securely while he glanced down the sheer descent to the sea. A little farther on, to the left, he suddenly perceived, to his horror, the two clinging figures, and at once recognized them. Dragging the child back, he sprang up and seized the old sailor’s arm, interrupting a long-winded story to which Mr. Boniface was listening. “There are two people down there, cut off by the tide,” he said. “What is the quickest way to reach them?” “Good Lord!” cried the old man; “why, there’ll be nought quicker than a boat at Britling Gap, or ropes brought from there and let down.” “Tell them help is coming,” said Frithiof “I will row round.” And without another word he set off running like the wind toward the coast-guard station. On and on he rushed over the green downs, past the little white chalk-heaps that marked the coast-guard’s nightly walk, past the lighthouse and down the hill to the little sheltered cove. Though a good runner, he was sadly out of training; his breath came now in gasps, his throat felt as though it were on fire, and all the time a terrible dread filled his heart. Supposing he were too late! At Britling Gap not a soul was in sight, and he dared not waste time in seeking help. The boat was in its usual place on the beach. He shoved it out to sea, sprang into it, paused only to fling off his coat, then with desperate energy pulled toward the place where Roy and Sigrid awaited their rescuer with fast-failing strength.