A minute passed, two, three—then the figure reappeared and her heart that had lain still sprang to life again.
As he drew closer she saw him stoop and pick up something, then he came right up to the cliff face, paused a minute and continued his way towards her, walking more slowly now and carrying the thing in his hands.
It was a big shell shaped like an abalone. He had filled it with water from a little torrent running from the cliff and when he reached her he held it up to show.
“We’re all right,” cried he, “there’s only four or five miles of cliff beyond the point, then it breaks away down to the beach. We’ll be able to get clear of this to-morrow.”
She came down the basalt steps and took the shell from him. He had washed it in the torrent so that the water had no taint of salt. Then, carrying it carefully she got it to the plateau where he followed her.
CHAPTER XXVIII
NIGHT
Towards dark the incoming tide began to hit the cliff base. Raft had taken the things from the bundle and had made her wrap herself in the blanket. “You ain’t used to the weather like me,” said he, “and this is nothing to bother about. Lucky it’s not blowing. Lucky we made this shelf. Hark at that!”