PRISCILLA MILE, close-reefed as to her skirts, and walking solidly, reached the shipwrecked party soon after nine o’clock; as she came by the beach, the brilliant light of Porley’s fire guided her, as it had guided Cicely and Eve out on the dark lake. Priscilla asked no questions, her keen eyes took in immediately Eve’s wet clothes and Jack’s no clothes, the child being wrapped merely in a shawl. She said to the Irishman, who was wet also: “Patrick Carty, you go back to the camp, you run just as fast as you can split; tell them what’s happened, and let them send for us as soon as they can. ’Taint going to rain much, I guess.”
The man hesitated.
“Well, what are you about?” asked Mrs. Mile, walking up to him threateningly, her beetle shawl-pins shining in the fire-light.
The Irishman, who had been in a confused state ever since Cicely had forced his canoe into the water again after he had hauled it up on the beach, and had beaten his hands off fiercely with the oar when he had tried to stop her progress—a little creature like that turning suddenly so strong—answered, hurriedly, “It’s goin’ I am; ye can see it yersilf!” and was off like a shot. “Wan attack from a fimmale will do!” was his thought.
The nurse then effected a change of dress; with the aid of part of her own clothing and part of Cicely’s and Porley’s, she got Eve and Jack into dry garments of some sort, Jack being wrapped in a flannel petticoat. The wind had grown much more violent, but the strange atmospheric conditions had passed away; the lightning had ceased. It was now an ordinary gale, the waves dashed over the beach, and the wind drove by with a shriek; but it was not cold. The four women sheltered themselves as well as they could, Cicely holding Jack closely; she would not let any one else touch him.
A little after two o’clock the crouched group heard a sound, and Hollis appeared in the circle of light shed by the flaring wind-swept fire. He bore a load of provisions and garments in baskets, in a sack suspended from his neck, in bags dangling from his arms, as well as in his hands and pockets; he had even brought a tea-kettle; it was a wonder how he had come so far with such a load, the wind bending him double. Priscilla Mile made tea as methodically as though the open beach, with the roaring water and the shrieking gale, had been a quiet room. Hollis watched them eat with an eagerness so intense that unconsciously his face made masticating movements in sympathy. When they had finished, a start passed over him, as if he were awakening, and, making a trumpet of his hands, he shouted to Cicely: “Must go now; ’f I don’t, the old judge ’ll be trying to get here. Back—with boat—soon as ca-a-an.”
“I’ll take your coat, if you don’t mind,” said Mrs. Mile, shrieking at him in her turn; “then Miss Bruce can have this shawl.” And she tapped her chest violently to show him her meaning. Hollis denuded himself, and started.
With the first light of dawn he was back. They reached the camp about ten o’clock the next morning.
At three in the afternoon Cicely woke from a sleep of four hours. Her first movement was to feel for Jack.
Jack was sitting beside her, playing composedly with four spools and a little wooden horse on rollers.