At that moment Pirate came running from the farther side of the Stack carrying a dead rabbit, which he proudly laid at his master's feet. He had been amusing himself almost all the time since the landing with hunting rabbits, and had at last caught one.
"You needn't starve now. See, Bill!" and Yaspard picked up the rabbit; "a fine fat beast, thanks to Pirate. Ah, my dog, if you had Thor's wings you would use them for me, not for yourself, I know."
Harry Mitchell looked admiringly at the noble dog; and when the others moved away to collect wood for a fire (plenty of spars on Swarta Stack) he fell into a reverie with his eyes fastened on Pirate.
Before long a fire was burning and the rabbit was roasting in an oven of mud. The skin was not removed, for those old young campaigners knew the best way to cook meat when the kitchen appliances were beyond reach. While Lowrie watched the roast and Gloy fed the fire, Gibbie went to the shore to secure some shell-fish and Bill went in search of plovers' eggs, for all were agreed that, until absolutely driven to it, they would not kill a sheep.
Yaspard, having set them all thus to work, returned to his place by Tom, who had fallen into a sort of stupor more alarming than even the restlessness and raving of the previous evening.
"In a brown study still, Harry?" the Viking asked, as he sat down and looked sorrowfully at the invalid.
"I have an idea," was Harry's answer. "You see the wind is falling already, and falling fast. It never lasts long at this season. But there is a heavy sea that may not run off for a couple of days. And no one lives on the part of Burra Isle facing Swarta Stack. Any signal we make will not be seen by the folk of Burra Isle, and not likely noticed by any one on Lunda, which is so much farther away. It really wouldn't matter for any of us except Tom; but he must be seen to soon, if his life is to be saved. If he were all right, we could camp here as long as you please; so don't think me impatient or funking."
"No, no! I know that. What is your idea?"
"Your boat can't float, Yaspard, but your dog can swim."
Yaspard sprang to his feet and caught Harry's hands in his joyous excitement. "That will do," he cried. "That will be better than Thor, for I can go with Pirate. I can swim like a fish; and if he sees me try it, he will go too—we could not expect him to fully understand what we wanted if I did not do so. I'll be off as soon as it's possible."