“Elithe here in the darkness and rain,—to save me!” Paul exclaimed, getting Elithe’s hand in his. “Yes, I am here,” Elithe replied, with a drawing in of breath, Paul held her wounded hand so tight. All his thoughts of returning to his cell had vanished with its touch. “It’s raining. You’ll be wet through. Let me take off my coat and cover you,” he said. Elithe declined the coat, but let him keep her hand as they went cautiously down to the landing where the boat was dancing like a cork upon the waves. It was not an easy task to enter it, and Elithe’s dress was wet to her knees when she at last took her seat and made room for Paul beside her. Tom sprang in last, and they pushed off into the seething waters. The storm had burst upon them with flashes of lightning and sheets of rain which made Elithe’s face wet with spray and white as it had been when she took the witness stand in the court room. “Are you afraid?” Paul asked. It was impossible that she should not be afraid in an open boat in a raging storm. And yet she was glad Paul was free, if she went to the bottom. As she did not answer him, he continued: “If I am to be hung I shall not be drowned. So you are safe.” Just then a wave heavier than any which had preceded it struck the boat, nearly upsetting it, and with a cry of alarm Elithe clung to Paul, who put his arm around her and drew her down until her face rested in his lap. “Courage,” he whispered. “We are more than half way there. Tom and I both can swim, and between us we will save you. For me it does not matter.” The storm was terrible now, one moment sending the boat far out to sea, and the next taking it towards the shore. Crash after crash of thunder rolled over their heads, while forked lightning darted from the black sky and swooped down into the water so near them that Paul could see Tom as with all his strength he plied the oars and tried to keep the boat well balanced. Paul was bare-headed, for there had been no time to secure his hat when he left the jail and Tom had made him take his, saying: “A little wetting will do me no harm and may injure you in your run-down state.” As the waves dashed over the boat more and more until it was a third full of water, Tom said: “Go to bailing with my hat, if you can. It will help some.”