Paul obeyed, bailing rapidly with one hand, while the other held fast to Elithe, who lay helpless across his lap trembling so that he could feel the beating of her heart and thought of a little frightened bird he had once caught and held a moment in his hand. She was thinking of Samona,—of her father and mother and brothers, and their grief when they heard she was drowned, as she was sure she would be. Then she wondered how any one would know what had become of them, and if their bodies would be washed ashore and found upon the beach. Paul, who was bending over her as he bailed, knew she was praying, and the arm which encircled her pressed her more closely. For himself he did not particularly care whether the sea engulfed him or not, but the girl who had risked her life for him must not die, and he prayed with her for safety from their peril. How long they buffeted with the storm he did not know, but it seemed an eternity. They were driven beyond the boat house, then back again and out to sea, until the rain fell less heavily; the thunder muttered in the distance; the boat moved more steadily and finally shot into safety in the shelter of the boat house. Paul lifted Elithe out, and, sitting down beside her upon the bench in the little room, with his arm still supporting her, said to Tom: “Well, what next?” “Stay here till I take Miss Hansford home and I’ll tell you,” was Tom’s answer. He was wet to his skin; so was Paul, and so was Elithe. But neither of the three cared. They were safe, and Elithe wrung the water from her skirts and shook it from her hat, which was crushed beyond all shape or comeliness. Then she gave her hand to Paul, but neither spoke a word of parting. They had been in a great peril together; he was in peril yet, and the horror of it was over them still. There was a warm hand clasp, and then Tom and Elithe went out again into the darkness and made their way towards Miss Hansford’s cottage. CHAPTER XXXVIII. EXCITEMENT. By nine o’clock the next morning everyone in Oak City knew that Paul had escaped. “Broke jail, and there ain’t no court to-day,” Max Allen said, when he brought the news to Miss Hansford, who was breakfasting alone. Hearing no sound from Elithe’s room, she had looked in and, finding her asleep, had decided not to waken her. “The child is just played out, and no wonder,” she said, closing the door carefully, and leaving the room by the opposite way from which she had entered. It was the back way through which Elithe had come in her wet garments, stopping a moment as she fancied she heard her aunt moving. A puddle of water on the floor was the consequence, and into this Miss Hansford stepped as she went out. “For goodness’ sake, I didn’t know it leaked here,” she said, peering overhead to find the place.