She hurried on some clothing and ran out of doors. The wind had swept the clouds towards the east, and an angry dawn was breaking above the hills. Marjorie sped over the drenched grass and heather, the wind was lifting her nearly off her feet, and blowing her frock in front of her like a sail. There were more than three miles of rugged country between Corranmore and the headland. It was a race between herself and the tide; and the tide seemed to be gaining.
Marjorie ran on and on. Neither Hamish nor any other living creature was in sight. The sheep had left the moors and the gulls were taking refuge inland.
At last the headland came in view. A glance showed Marjorie that the waves had not yet reached high-water mark. Mechanically she chose the road by the shore.
Now the wind was partly against her, and at times threatened to pin her against the cliff; but Marjorie struggled forward. Soon the rocks were frowning above her head, while the breakers were coming closer, rising in solid walls which thundered as they fell. Showers of spray were flung shoreward; and looking up at the wet glistening cliffs Marjorie wondered whether foothold would be possible upon them, and what her feelings would be were she to find herself caged between the cliffs and the breakers.
Yet she did not feel frightened, only excited.
At the caves she had only time to make a dash before a huge breaker fell; and some of the water swirled after her into the opening.
'Neil!' she cried; 'Neil!'
Neil was lying watching the flood quite calmly, as though it did not concern him in the least.
Catching sight of Marjorie he looked up in amazement; then sprang to his feet.
'Is Hamish here?' shouted Marjorie.