She insisted:
"Still you know that Miss Bakefield is running the same danger as myself. By remaining with me, you sacrifice her."
"Hush!" he repeated, angrily. "I am doing my duty in not leaving you; and Miss Bakefield herself would never forgive me if I did otherwise!"
The girl irritated him. He suspected that she regarded herself as having triumphed over Isabel and that she had been trying to confirm her victory by proving to Simon that he ought to have left her.
"No, no," he said to himself, "it's not for her sake that I'm staying with her. I'm staying because it's my duty. A man does not leave a woman under such conditions. But is she capable of understanding that?"
They had to leave their refuge in the middle of the night, for it was stealthily invaded by the river, and to lie down higher up the beach.
No further incident disturbed their sleep. But in the morning, when the darkness was not yet wholly dispersed, they were awakened by quick, hollow barks. A dog came leaping towards them at such a speed that Simon had no time to do more than pull out his revolver.
"Don't fire!" cried Dolores, knife in hand.
It was too late. The brute turned a somersault, made a few convulsive moments and lay motionless. Dolores stooped over it and said, positively:
"I recognize him, he's the tramps' dog. They are on our track. The dog had run ahead of them."