The upraised knee slowly straightened. One of the two negro guards looked round and kicked at their prisoner. The other spoke, and a squealing laugh reached her ears.
Each instant seemed an eternity until she thought she could see Reuben Yoxall turn and begin to worm his way back toward her, with another stealthy shadow following him.
He reached her side.
"Up and run for it now, lass," he panted, and stooped and lifted her to her feet. "They can't hear us from there. For God's sake, don't give way now."
But she was quite limp and strengthless. The strain had been too much for her. He picked her up in his arms and made for their boat at an elephantine trot, the stranger struggling along after him through the sand. She was sobbing brokenly when he set her down beside it.
A piercing scream rang out across the sand from the near distance, above all the other turmoil. But he had already got the boat turned right side up and the man in the mask helped him to set it afloat. He splashed ashore again and carried Sallie out to it, settling her very tenderly in its stern.
"We're all right now," he told her, and she whispered back, "Oh! I'm so ashamed of myself, Rube,—I nearly fainted!"
The other man sat down in the bow and the mate stepped carefully in. A few minutes later they were beyond the bar, safe enough from pursuit.
"I'll take an oar now," the stranger suggested, speaking for the first time, and in a tone which showed how he had suffered. Yoxall passed him one willingly. He had over-taxed his own strength at last. He was almost exhausted before they at length ran alongside the Olive Branch, skirting the arc of the search-light. He could scarcely scramble up the rope he had left hanging from the poop.
But with the other man's help he managed to get the boat aboard and stowed away again. And they returned on deck together.