The man had plenty of strength, and was exerting every atom of it. Still Eve kept ahead of him. "Oh, Jack!" she said to herself, "let me be in time!" It was her brother to whom she was appealing. She reached the spot where she had left Porley; but there was no Porley there. Without stopping, she paddled on eastward; Cicely's canoe was now some distance behind. Fifteen minutes more and she saw Porley, she rowed in rapidly. "Where is he?" "Dair!" answered Porley, pointing over the darkening water with a gesture that was tragic in its despair. At first Eve saw nothing; then she distinguished a black speck, she pointed towards it with her paddle. "Yass'm, dat's him. I 'ain't nebber take my yies off 'em," said the girl, crying. "Tell Mrs. Morrison. She's coming," said Eve. She turned her boat and paddled out rapidly towards the speck. "If I only had matches--why didn't I bring some? It will be dark soon. But it's so calm that nothing can have happened to him; he will be asleep." In spite of her pretended certainty, however, dread held her heart as in a vise. "I won't think--only row." She tried to keep her mind a blank, resorting to the device of counting her strokes with great interest. On the light craft sped, with the peculiar skimming motion of the Indian canoe, as if it were gliding on the surface of the water. The twilight grew deeper. There came a little gust, lightning showed itself for an instant in the bank of clouds across the southern sky. "There is going to be a storm." She stopped; the other boat, which had been following her swiftly, came up. "Have you ever been out in a canoe in a storm?" she called to the Irishman, keeping her own boat well away from Cicely's. "No, mum." "Take Mrs. Morrison back to shore, then, as fast as you can." "Go on!" commanded Cicely, with flashing eyes. There came another gust. The man, perplexed by the contrary orders, made wrong strokes; the boat careened, then righted itself. "Take her back," called Eve, starting onward again. "Follow that canoe!" said Cicely. The man tried to obey Cicely; to intensify his obedience he stood up and paddled with his back bent. There came another flurry of wind; his boat careened again, and he lost his balance, he gave a yell. For a moment Eve thought that he had gone overboard. But he had only crouched. "Go back--while you can," she called, warningly. And this time he obeyed her. "Eve, take me with you--take me!" cried Cicely, in a tone that went to the heart. "We needn't both of us die," Eve answered, calling back for the last time.