So the Argentine adopted the less hazardous method, and climbed to the bank. A splash, and a scramble, and a slight exclamation from Elsie told that the dog had followed. Soon the swish of leaves and the crackling of rotten wood ceased. Suarez might be out of earshot or merely hiding for a time, intending to return with news of an impassable precipice. There was a crumb of comfort in the absence of the terrier. Joey would either go on or come back to them at once.
Gray felt that the girl was too heart-broken to talk. He listened to the rhythmical chorus of that witches’ cauldron in the heart of the defile, and watched the gray light slowly etching a path through the trees, until it touched the fast-running water with a shimmer of silver.
Neither of them knew how long they remained there; at last, a straining and creaking of the boat warned them that the water level was rising and the ropes needed readjusting. It was now possible to see that Elsie had made fast to a fallen tree; its branches were locked among the gnarled roots of the lowermost growth above high-water mark. Already there was a distinct lessening in the pace of the current, and Gray fancied that the distant rumble was softer. It would not be many minutes before the neighboring rocks were covered; high tide, he knew, was at 3.15 A.M. He forebore to look at his watch, lest the girl should note his action. That would imply the utter abandonment of hope.
It might be that his mind was too taken up with the weird influences of the hour, or that Elsie’s senses were strung to a superhuman pitch. Be that as it may, it was she who sprang to her feet all a-quiver with agitation.
“Do you hear?” she whispered, and her hand clutched Gray’s shoulder with an energy which set his heart beating high. He did not answer. He had heard no unusual sound, but he was not without faith in her.
“There!” she panted again. “Some one is hailing. Some one cried ‘Elsie.’ I am sure of it.”
“Guess you’d better toot ‘Arthur’ on the off chance,” said Gray.
Almost the last thing she remembered was the sound of her own wild scream. There came back to her a stronger shout, and the bark of a dog. She had a blurred consciousness of a whole troupe of men scrambling down the choked ravine, of glad questions and joyous answers, of a delirious dog leaping on board and yelping staccato assurances that everything was all right in a most wonderful world. Then she found herself in Courtenay’s arms, and heard him say in a rapture of delight:
“I owe my life to you, dear heart. That is the wonder of it. No need to tell me you ran away from the ship. I know. One kiss, Elsie; then full speed ahead for the Kansas. By the Lord, to think of it! You here! At the very gate of the Inferno! Well, one more kiss! Yes, it is I, none other, and fit as a fiddle. Never got a scratch. There, now; I really must see to the crew. We must be ready for the turn of the tide.”