Had there been no fog, Addie might have seen her and climbed up. Surely the yawl must be somewhere below, cut off from vision by that mass of elusive shifting whiteness. Then she remembered that there was also a calm, a dead breathless calm. Perhaps the yacht had not passed Heggadon, and might have to go back to Salterne when the tide turned. Everything was against her, and against being found, because all the attention would be for the yawl and not for herself; it would be taken for granted she was safe on land. She remembered that the Floweret would certainly have said: "Where _can_ dear Pamela have gone to! Surely she is very late." That might have drawn people’s attention, but even the Floweret was lost to her now. There was positively no hope of help. Reuben’s life, and her own too, for that matter, depended on her own unaided efforts. She took a long breath, thought of all sorts of things in a queer rush of resolution to do what hundreds--thousands--of brave men and women had done in the fighting years. After all this adventure was not unlike getting a wounded comrade into safety from the lonely perils of No Man’s Land. If a wounded man could do it for another one worse wounded--surely she, who was sound, could do it for this little creature. That was about the reasoning of her mind if it were analysed--but, of course, it all passed like a flash of realization, she did not reason. Then she began again, and had gone up in the same way another five feet, hardly more, when a sick feeling of fright seemed to choke her--she could not get higher. She had come to a place that was so steep as to be practically a wall. It was like that for some ten feet, after which it looked easier--but just here it was sheer. She must try and get round it, as it were--shift herself and the boy along. To that end it would be better to explore alone first--find out where her best road lay and come back for Reube? The question was dare she leave him, would he move if he returned to consciousness, and roll down into the sea. She was considering her position, when she heard a call--actually a human call. A wave of passionate thankfulness swept over her--nearly as possible she burst out crying from sheer relief. Who--who could it be? Then she saw. Rather above, and a good deal to her left, was a figure making towards them in a swift and capable manner. Pamela was just going to answer with a cry of welcome, when a sense of dazed confusion checked her, and for several moments she remained just staring with an uneasy suspicion that she might have "gone off her head" from the strain. For the person coming down towards her was the double of herself. No less, apparently.