He had never yet forced a way to the shore through the jungle beyond his tree-trunk smelter. Thither he wended his way to note what this route might offer.
Breaking the branches from before his path, and rather inclined to believe a trail might once have been forced through the thicket, he was penetrating deeper and deeper into the moist and thickly shaded region when he presently halted, almost certain he had heard someone calling his name.
"Sidney! Sidney!" came the cry again, from Elaine up above him on the cliff. "Sidney! Where are you? A boat! I've seen a sail! There's someone coming at last!"
He had smashed his way out while she was calling.
"A sail!" she repeated, excitedly, the moment he appeared. "Oh, come!—please come at once!"
She disappeared swiftly from the edge, running back, lest the sight be lost forever.
Actively, Grenville went bounding across the clearing and up their narrow trail. He was panting and eager when Elaine ran forward to meet him, and clutched him by the arm.
"I knew it would come!—I knew it!" she cried, as she hastened hotly forward at his side. "We must wave things as hard as we can!"
She had guided him swiftly to the great lone tree that stood like the island's landmark, to be seen for many a mile. She pointed in triumph afar across the sea—and Grenville beheld a tiny sail, like the merest white notch in the sky.
"Can they see us yet? Shall we wave?" said Elaine. "They couldn't go by and miss us now?"