"Aunty Eve is going to get a boat and come out after you," Eve went on; "then we'll go fishing. But Jack must sit perfectly still, or else she won't come; perfectly still. Does Jacky hear?" "Ess," called Jack again. "If you are tired, put your head down and go to sleep. Aunty Eve will come, soon if you are still; not if you move about." "I's still," called Jack, in a high key. "If there was only a man here!--a man could swim out and bring the boat in," she thought, wringing her hands, and then stopping lest Jack should see the motion. She did not allow herself to think--"If _Paul_ were only here!" It was on Paul's account, to be able to think of him by herself, to dream of their daily life together--it was for this that she had left her brother's child on that solitary beach, with only a careless negro girl to watch over him! But there was no man near, and there was no second boat. The canoe was already visibly farther away; little Jack's eyes, looking at her, were becoming indistinct, she could see only the outline of his head and the yellow of his curls. She waved her hand to him and sang, clearly and gayly: "Row the boat, row the boat, up to the strand; Before our door there is dry land--" And Jack answered with a distant "Ess." Then he tried to go on with it. "Who pums idder, all booted an' spur-r-rd," he chanted, straining his little lungs to the utmost, so that his auntie should hear him. The tears poured down Eve's cheeks as she heard the baby voice; she knew he could not see them. For an instant, she thought of trying to swim out to him herself. "I can swim. It isn't very far." She began to unbutton her boots. But should she have the strength to bring him in, either in the canoe or in her arms? And if she should sink, there would be no one to save Jack. She rebuttoned her boots and ran to Porley. "Go to the beach, and walk up and down where Jack can see you. Call to him once in a while, but not too often; call gayly, don't let him see that you are frightened; if he thinks you are frightened, he will become frightened himself and move about; then he will upset the boat. Do you understand what I mean? I am going back to the camp for another canoe. Keep him in sight; and try--do try to be sensible." She was off. Without much hope she began her race. Before she passed beyond hearing, Porley's voice came to her: "Hi-yi, Jack! Yo're kyar'in on now, ain't yer? Splendid fun, sho! Wisht I was 'long!" And then followed a high chuckle, which Porley intended as a laugh. At least the girl had understood.