"'Ye gods, I grow a talker.' I do wrong to sit here inactive. The air is becoming cold. Since no boat has hove in sight it is time we tried to attract one. Some of this timber, piled upon the rocks at the entrance of our cave, and set alight, will 'contrive a double debt to pay'—of giving warmth to yourself, and of serving as a signal-fire to the coast-guard of Ormsby."
Collecting a supply of logs and planks, Idris proceeded to form them into a little pyramid upon the boulders outside the mouth of the cavern. He applied a lighted match to the pile, and within a few minutes a glorious bonfire was blazing upon the rock, challenging the pale light of the moon, and flinging a ruddy glow over the breast of the heaving waters around.
"Now, Mademoiselle Rivière, if you will sit in this nook here, you will be both sheltered from the wind and warmed by the fire."
Lorelie accepted the suggestion: and, as her ankle was still painful, she permitted Idris to assist her to the assigned spot, where she sat, pleased with the cheerful warmth.
"This blaze ought surely to be seen and understood as a signal of distress," said Idris.
As he stared at the distant moonlit cliff behind which the town of Ormsby lay hidden, he suddenly became aware that Lorelie was speaking.
"Idris! Idris!"
He turned quickly with a curious feeling. Surely she was not addressing him by his Christian name? Let his name sound ever so silvery as it came from her lips, still, this mode of address in a friendship so recently formed as theirs, was a familiarity which jarred upon him.
"Idris! Idris!" she repeated.