"Agatha Redmond, can you hear me?" She caught the voice faintly, as if it were a child's cry. "I'm right here, yes; only wait just a second." She could not instantly free herself from her sandy coverings, but she was wide awake almost at the first words James had spoken. Faint as the voice had been, she recognized the natural tones, the strongest he had uttered since coming out of the water. The night had grown cold and dark, and at first she was a trifle bewildered. She was also stiff and sore, almost beyond bearing. She had to creep along the sand to where Jim lay. The fire had burned wholly out, and the sand felt damp as she crawled over it. When she came near, she reached out her hand and laid it on Jim's forehead. He was shivering with cold. "You poor man! And I sleeping while I ought to be taking care of you! I'll make the fire and get some milk; there is still a little left." As she tried to make her aching bones lift her to her feet, she became aware that the man was fumbling at his coverings and trying to say something. She bent down to hear his words, which were incredibly faint. "I don't want any fire or any milk. I only wanted to know if you were there," he said diffidently, as if ashamed of his childishness. She leaned over him, speaking gently and touching his head softly with her firm, cool hands. "You're a little better now, aren't you, after your sleep? Don't you feel a little stronger?" "Yes, I'm better, lots better," he whispered. "I must have been sleeping for ages. When I woke up I thought I had a beastly chill or something; but I'm all right now; only suddenly I felt as if I must know if you were there, and if it _was_ you." He smiled at his own words, and Agatha was reassured. "I think you'll be still better for a little milk," she said, and crept away to get the pail, which had been hidden on a shelf of rock. When she came back with it, James tried manfully to sit up; but Agatha slipped an arm under his neck, in skilful nurse fashion, and held the bucket while he drank, almost greedily. As he sank back on his bed he whispered: "You are very good to take care of me." "Oh, no; I'm only too glad! And now I'm going to build up the fire again; your hands are quite cold." "No, don't go," he pleaded. "Please stay here; I'm not cold any more. And you must go to sleep again. I ought not to have wakened you; and, really, I didn't mean to." "Yes, you ought. I've had lots of sleep; I don't want any more." "It's dark, but it's better than it was that other night, isn't it?" said James. "Much better," answered Agatha. James visibly gathered strength from the milk, and presently he took some more. Agatha watched, and when he had finished, patted him approvingly on the hand, "Good boy! You've done very well," she cried. "I was so thirsty, I thought the whole earth had run dry. Will you think me very ungrateful if I say now I wish it had been water?"