“That talk made the greatest difference. After it was all over, I gave them some water. They were different even then. They looked at me—and they didn’t shrink or shudder. When I handed Julia the cup, she made herself smile. God, you never saw such a smile. I nearly—” he paused, “I all but went back to the cabin and cut my throat. But the fight’s over. They’ll get well. They’re sleeping like children now.”
“Thank God!” Merrill groaned. “Oh, thank God!”
“I’ve felt like a murderer ever since——” Billy said. He stopped and his voice leaped with a sudden querulousness. “You didn’t wake me up; you’ve done double guard duty during the night, Ralph.”
“Oh, that’s all right. You were all in—I felt that—” Ralph stammered in a shamefaced fashion. “And I knew I could stand it.”
“There’s a long sleep coming to you, Ralph,” Pete said. “You’ve hardly closed your eyes this week. No question but you’ve saved their lives.”
B.
Mid-morning on Angel Island.
The sun had mounted half-way to the zenith; sky and sea and land glittered with its luster. Like war-horses, the waves came ramping over the smooth, shimmering sand; war-horses with bodies of jade and manes of silver.
Pete floated inshore on a huge comber, ran up the beach a little way and sat down. Billy followed.
“I’ve come out just to get the picture,” Pete explained.