Presently she knew that night was at hand, that it was coming swiftly. The atmosphere was all suffused by a rich saffron hue, into which the crimson tints of the sun and the blue of the heavens were being absorbed; the sun itself was sinking over the mount behind her; even the air was cooling and becoming fresher. "If he would only come," she whispered to herself; "if he would only come before night falls." And then she resolved to go to the mouth of the river and look for him. To do so meant that she must force her way through a hundred yards of undergrowth of cacti and all kinds of clinging creepers; yet she was so anxious to see him and to warn him of the danger in which, she felt sure, he would stand on his return, that she did not hesitate a moment. Therefore she plunged bodily in amongst the luxuriant vegetation, and, after a considerable amount of struggling and a numerous quantity of scratches received, stood at last upon the beach, gazing almost south towards Tortola. And soon she saw that he was coming back--as she had never doubted he would come: he had not parted from her in a manner that meant a last farewell!--he was very near the island now, not a quarter of a mile away. Presently he, too, saw her standing there regarding him, and, as he did so, took his handkerchief from his pocket and waved it to her. And five minutes later the _Pompeia_ passed in between the river banks, so that they could speak to each other. "Why! how did you get through the undergrowth, Barbara?" he asked, astonished to see her on the beach, which, from the landing path, was almost inaccessible. "I wanted to see if you were coming back," she answered, "and so forced my way." "Wait till I have anchored opposite the path," he said, "and I will come back with the dinghy and bring you off." And so he passed on to the usual place where he moored the yacht--simply because the path from the hut to the river came down opposite--and then, anchoring, he got into the dinghy and went to fetch her. "Shall I put you ashore," he asked, "or will you come on board?" "On board," she said; "we can talk better there. Ashore there may be ears hidden behind any palm or under any bush. Take me on board." He looked at her with one swift glance, wondering what could have happened now, but he said nothing; and after a few strokes they stood on the deck of his little craft. Then he brought her a tiny deck-chair and bade her be seated, while he leaned against the gunwale by her side. "What is it, Barbara?" he asked, looking down at her. "What is it now?" "I do not know," she said, speaking very low and casting glances over to the bank of the river, as though doubting whether that other one might not be hidden somewhere beneath the thick foliage of the shore. "Yet, Mr. Crafer, I fear." "For what?"