She turned her head in the direction towards which he pointed. The horses, free of their harness, had already found a grass patch and were beginning to graze. The broken phaeton lay in the sunshine and the cushions flung to right and left showed as blue squares amidst the green of the grass; a light wind from the west was stirring the grass tops and a bird was singing somewhere its thin piping note, the only sound from all that expanse of radiant blue sky and green forsaken country. "How do you feel now?" asked Silas. "All right," said Phyl. "We'd better get somewhere," he went on; "there are some cabins beyond that rice field, I can see their tops. There's sure to be some one there and we can send for help." Phyl struggled to her feet, refusing assistance. "Let us go there," said she. She turned to look at the horses. "They'll be all right," said Silas; "there's lots of grass and there's a pond over there--they'd live here a month without harm." He led the way to the fence, helped her over, and then, without a word they began to plod across the rice field. When they reached the cabins they found them deserted, almost in ruins. They faced a great tract of tree-grown ground. In the old plantation days this place would have been populous, for to the right there were ruins of other cabins stretching along and bordering an old grass road that bent westward to lose itself amongst the trees, but now there was nothing but desolation and the wind that stirred the mossy beards of the live oaks and the rank green foliage of weeds and sunflowers. An old disused well faced the cabins. Phyl gave a little shudder as she looked around her. Her mind, still slightly confused by the accident and beaten upon by troubles, could find nothing with which to reply to the facts of the situation--alone here with Silas Grangerson, lost, both of them, what explanation could she make, even to herself, of the position? In the nearest cabin to the right some rough dry grass had been stored as if for the bedding of an animal. It was too coarse for fodder. Silas made her sit down on it to rest. Then he stood before her in the doorway. For the first time in his life he seemed disturbed in mind. "I'll have to go and get help," said he, "and find out where we are. It's my fault. I'm sorry, but there's no use in going over that. You aren't fit to walk. I'll go and leave you here. You won't be afraid to stay by yourself?" "No," said Phyl. "You needn't be a bit, there's no danger here." "I am thirsty," said she. "Wait." He went to the well head. The windlass and chain were there rusty but practicable and a bucket lay amongst the grass. It was in good repair and had evidently been used recently. He lowered it and brought up some water. The water was clear diamond bright, and cold as ice. Having satisfied himself that it was drinkable he brought the bucket to Phyl and tilted it slightly whilst she drank. Then he put it by the door.