Joshua stooped and kissed the little girl, and she put her arms round his neck, and asked where papa had gone to. Joshua turned away, and pressing Minnie's hand, was soon afterwards in the land of dreams. So, during the night, they slept and watched, and in their troubled dreams felt the rocks moving and swaying beneath them. Every now and then they started in terror, and clutched what was nearest to them, as if life was slipping away; they suffered over again the agonies of thirst, and moved their parched lips entreatingly. When it was Joshua's watch, he observed the sufferings of his sleeping companions; he guessed the cause, for he had suffered himself in like manner. With merciful thoughtfulness he moistened their lips with fresh water; the women smiled and grew more composed; perhaps at that moment they dreamed that an angel was bringing them life and health. Minnie's head was lying on her hand, and her face was exposed to the light. It was sun-burnt, but the gypsy stain was dying out of it. Her hair too was growing lighter and longer. Joshua looked up at the sky and round about him at the strange scene. Over his head the light of day was just breaking, but the dusky shadows still lay upon the waters. Behind him a faint light, heralding the sun, was quivering on distant wood and upland. "Dan made me promise," he said softly to himself, as the wonderful strangeness of his position came upon him, "when I was seeing strange sights in strange places, to think, 'Dan is here with me, although I cannot see him.' _Is_ Dan here with me now? Is it possible that he can have the vaguest idea of me as I stand, heart-wrecked, in this wild country? I will try to believe so; I will try to believe that he and Ellen see me as I am, know me as I am, and pity me. I could die here now contentedly, if that were a conviction. Ellen, dear wife! Dan, dear friend! dear mother and father! stand fast to me, and believe that I never wavered in my love and my truth!" This was his theme that he thought of and mused upon, while all the others were asleep. The rocks were burnished with golden light before they awoke. CHAPTER XXXIII. ON THE ROCKS. As the sailmaker was stretching himself, Rough-and-Ready, who was already stirring, said,-- "I say, mate what name shall we call you by?" "Isn't Sailmaker good enough?" was the Irish answer. "It's good enough; but it's no name." "Tom, for short, then." "That'll do, Tom; it's like your talk, short, and to the point." From that time they talked of him as Tom the Sailmaker. "We're going to look for something for breakfast, Marvel," said Rough-and-Ready. "Don't wake the women--let them have their sleep out. And keep your eye on those two rascals yonder. If they come to close quarters, have no mercy. They'd have none on you. Come along, Tom."