"Cathie, Cathie! Come to your senses, man! This is no punishment of God's. Rather let us be thankful we are still alive."
"I'd almost as lieve be dead," said Cathie stubbornly. "Ships gone, men gone, everything gone, and all our work undone. Say what you will, Mr. Blair, it's bitter hard."
"These," said Blair, raising his hands reverently over the dead at their feet, "have gone home—beyond the reach of storms. The ships can be replaced. If there are any people left, the work can be rebuilt. If they are all gone, they are the better off, and they have gone further than if we had never come here."
"It's bitter hard, all the same——"
And then a faint, muffled cry reached them, apparently from the ragged hillside whose débris lay all over the beach, and they both ran towards it.
The cries were repeated, and led them at last to an out-jutting rock round which the sliding earth had flowed and settled.
"Where are you?" cried Blair.
"Here!" came from under their feet, and they spied a small hole in the earth, and set to work at once to enlarge it with their hands.
Cathie ran down to the beach and came back with some pieces of wood which made the work go quicker. The cries from the inside had ceased, and they worked the harder, and at last they had the hole large enough for Blair to get his head and shoulders in.
With his hand he felt the body of a man fallen in a heap, and by great exertions managed to drag it out through the hole.