But she only succeeded in getting thoroughly weary. Try as she might, her little head would sink. Then a big comber found her cross-wise in the trough of the sea and proceeded to roll and pound her unmercifully and stand her on her head. She came up gasping from an unknown depth, and struggled frantically. King heard a smothered cry. “Steady, Billee!” he yelled. “Coming! Coming!” His arms literally tore the resisting water from his path. She caught his shoulder with one hand, gasping. He had turned instantly on his back, prepared for the struggle. “Rest your weight on me, Billee!--both hands!--_both hands!_” he shouted. (You have to be positive with panicky people.) “Let your body float free!” “Help me, King--I’m--I’m--” “Steady, girl! Are you really all in?” “So far”--she choked, “but I’m--I’m--” Gurgle. “No, you’re not!” “I am!--I am!--I am!--Oh!--Oh!--” “Don’t lose your nerve, child!” “Nerve!” screamed Billee, “it isn’t my nerve!--I’m losing!--I’m losing--” But water filled her mouth. “What? What?” “King!--string--come loose! I’m--I’m losin--!” (Shriek.) “Most gone! King, you’ve got--got to tie--that--that--string! You’ve got to! Got to! Got to!” Woman’s wail on lonely ocean! Saddest sound in the world. “Then-rest-both-hands-on-my-shoulders!” he said grimly, setting his jaws hard. “I can’t--I can’t--I can’t rest--but one! I’m holding the string! Oh, King! hurry--they’re most--” “Steady now, Billee! Hold fast! Steady!” And King tied the string! For an age the great ocean had swallowed him up. But he tied the string! Billee’s face went down on his breast when he recovered breath. And there it stuck. “Don’t worry, Billee. It’s all right.” Billee was not worrying. She was laughing and choking and gurgling. Presently came a note of alarm: “King.” Her cheek was against his breast. “Yes.” “Your heart is racing--just racing. Swimming isn’t good for you. It might stop!” “Entitled to stop,” he said. “Strong heart to stand this wild night at sea.” And then, gently, “Beating only for you now, Billee.” Silence again. Then her whisper: “King, you awake?” “Don’t know, Billee. Hope so.” “Was this the way you saved the little girl?” “Yes.” “Cheek right here, where mine is?” “Yes.” “Poor little kid! I wonder if she remembers! Hand on your shoulder, like mine?” “Yes.” “King, love her, please! I hate to think of that little, lonesome girl, floating around with you there--and maybe loving you always--and you forgetting her!” “Always loved her, Billee. Always shall. Loved her on the train coming up from Georgia with the old nurse. I had left my one little sister sleeping under the liveoaks. She looked like her. Went out on the deck that night, not to see the lights--I was afraid she might fall in the water.” “Oh!--Oh!--Oh!” wailed Billee. “Why, what’s the matter?” “Cry--cry--crying--a little, I guess, King.” “Don’t cry.” “But it breaks--my heart!” “Why, what is it?” Silence. And then: