Elsie awoke from her trance, but, in returning to life, she was transformed into a stern, resourceful, commanding woman. Her face had lost its gentleness; the pleasant curves and dimples of mouth and chin had hardened into a sort of determination; even her slight, graceful figure seemed to assume a certain squareness which betokened her resolve to act as her lover would have acted were he the watcher from the ship and she the prisoner pent behind that screen of rock and wild forest. None suspected the mighty force which worked this resolution in her nature. She conducted herself with a cunning that was wholly foreign to her character. Her first care was to hoodwink her companions into the belief that the strain of the day had passed. She accepted a cup of tea brought by Isobel, expressed her sorrow that if by word or look she had given cause for offence, and entered eagerly into the pros and cons of the debate which sprang up as to the best course to pursue on the following day. Everyone agreed that nothing could be done that night. If the pillar of smoke were visible at sunrise, and Walker could possibly manage to fire the boilers, Boyle suggested that some sailors in the jolly-boat should sound a channel along which the vessel itself might steam slowly towards Guanaco Hill. That, in itself, would be a move of considerable value. If they could lessen the distance between the shore and the ship, each yard thus gained would help the prisoners and impose a stronger barrier against the Alaculofs, who would probably be daunted when they found that the vessel’s mobility was restored. This proposal was deemed so excellent that they all dined in vastly better spirits than any of them anticipated. Christobal, puzzled out of his scientific senses by Elsie’s change of manner, kept a close eye on her. He was amazed to see her eat a better meal than she had eaten for days, and she was normally a quite healthy young person, with a reasonably good appetite. Boyle and Gray took the first watch, from eight o’clock to midnight. Christobal and Walker shared the next one; by four o’clock it would be daylight, so the doctor was retiring early to his cabin when he met Elsie, by chance as it seemed. She was self-possessed, even smiling, with a certain dour serenity. “The day’s doings have tired me,” she said. “I am off to bed. Will you rap on my door soon after dawn?” “Yes,” he replied, secretly marveling at her air. “I plead guilty to a slight feeling of nervousness,” she went on. “Is your revolver loaded? Would you mind lending it to me? I think I could sleep more soundly if I had a reliable weapon tucked under my pillow.” A whiff of suspicion crossed Christobal’s mind, but he brushed it aside as unworthy. At five o’clock that day he certainly would not have granted her request. But now, since the new hope had sprung up that Courtenay was alive, it was absurd to doubt her motives.