“What do you mean?”
“Only she is better at the game.”
Hildegarde leaned nearer to catch the husky words. “No one who ever braved the North, no one who ever grappled with the ice, not one of them all has done it more courageously than Ky.” The shadow-ringed eyes sought the girl’s again. “Nobody could be quite indifferent to Ky who cared about—who—” He broke off, exhausted by his fruitless effort to sit upright. He dropped forward on his elbows and rested his bearded chin in his hands. The tawny tide poured in streams through his fingers, and hid the horror of them. “To-morrow,” he said, with his eyes on Hildegarde, “to-morrow Ky will be the sole survivor of the only expedition that ever reached the Pole.”
CHAPTER XXIV
Silent the girl sat there. But senses less alert than the hermit’s would have felt the passion of wonder that held her motionless. For all the world of difference between these two, the same light was shining in each face.
“How does the time go?” He made a movement toward his pocket, and then dropped his hand. “Curious how I still forget—I left it—” Again the motion. “Will you put your watch where I can see it?”
“Oh, go on; go on!” she urged. “My companion won’t go back without me.”