Neither of them knew how long they remained there; at last, a straining and creaking of the boat warned them that the water level was rising and the ropes needed readjusting. It was now possible to see that Elsie had made fast to a fallen tree; its branches were locked among the gnarled roots of the lowermost growth above high-water mark. Already there was a distinct lessening in the pace of the current, and Gray fancied that the distant rumble was softer. It would not be many minutes before the neighboring rocks were covered; high tide, he knew, was at 3.15 A.M. He forebore to look at his watch, lest the girl should note his action. That would imply the utter abandonment of hope. It might be that his mind was too taken up with the weird influences of the hour, or that Elsie’s senses were strung to a superhuman pitch. Be that as it may, it was she who sprang to her feet all a-quiver with agitation. “Do you hear?” she whispered, and her hand clutched Gray’s shoulder with an energy which set his heart beating high. He did not answer. He had heard no unusual sound, but he was not without faith in her. “There!” she panted again. “Some one is hailing. Some one cried ‘Elsie.’ I am sure of it.” “Guess you’d better toot ‘Arthur’ on the off chance,” said Gray. Almost the last thing she remembered was the sound of her own wild scream. There came back to her a stronger shout, and the bark of a dog. She had a blurred consciousness of a whole troupe of men scrambling down the choked ravine, of glad questions and joyous answers, of a delirious dog leaping on board and yelping staccato assurances that everything was all right in a most wonderful world. Then she found herself in Courtenay’s arms, and heard him say in a rapture of delight: “I owe my life to you, dear heart. That is the wonder of it. No need to tell me you ran away from the ship. I know. One kiss, Elsie; then full speed ahead for the _Kansas_. By the Lord, to think of it! You here! At the very gate of the Inferno! Well, one more kiss! Yes, it is I, none other, and fit as a fiddle. Never got a scratch. There, now; I really must see to the crew. We must be ready for the turn of the tide.” CHAPTER XIX. WHEREIN THE _KANSAS_ RESUMES HER VOYAGE The events of the next hour were shadowy as the dawn to Elsie. She knew that her lover placed men in each of the canoes, that the life-boat itself was crowded, and that it began the seaward journey after the others had started. She followed his explanation that if one of the lighter craft got into difficulties at the Indian barrier, the big, heavy boat would be able to extricate it. But she feared neither Indians nor sea. Had Courtenay proposed to sail away into the Pacific she would have listened with placid approval. She was by his side; that sufficed. For the rest, they lived in the midst of adventures. What did it matter if they were called on to run the gauntlet of one more ambuscade—or a dozen, if it came to that?