e
had rearranged the blanket that did for a pillow.

Then on the morning when the blessed sun shone she was able to come out
and sit on a patch of sand with one of the blankets for a rug.

She looked old and worn, but no longer terrible, and as she sat with her
thin hands folded in her lap watching the great sea bulls and the cows,
as if contemplating them for the first time, the man who had helped her
out and placed her there was at a loss--she was a sight to inspire pity
in a savage. He took his seat beside her on a piece of rock and rolling
some tobacco in his hand stuffed his pipe.

"You're all right now," said he.

She nodded her head and smiled.

"Yes," she said, "this is good."

"Lucky I came along," he said, "wouldn't have seen you only an old tin
hit my eye."

He put the pipe in his pocket, got up, went to the cave where he did the
cooking and came back with a cup half full of coffee and half a biscuit.

"Dip it in," said he.

She did as she was bid. It was the first time he had given her coffee
and the stimulant brought a flush to her cheeks and cheered her heart
so that she began to talk.

"There are more biscuits in a place down the beach," she said, "and down
there," she nodded to the left, "there are a lot of things hidden under
a heap of stones. It's beyond the river on the left."

Then the empty cup began to shake in her hand and he took it from her.

"You're not over strong yet," said he, "but you'll be better in a bit
with this sun. Y'aren't afraid of the sea cows, are you?"

She shook her head.

"Thought you wouldn't be," said he, "there's no harm in them. Well, I'll
be moving about. I'll go and have a look down the beach and see what's
to be found."

He hung for a moment with the cup in his hand shading his eyes and
looking seaward, then he turned towards the cave to put the cup back.

"What is your name?" she said, suddenly, bringing him to a halt.

"Raft," said he.

"Raft," she repeated the name several times in a low voice as if
committing it to memory or turning it over in her mind.

"How long might you have been here?" he asked, standing in a doubtful
manner, as though debating in his mind the wisdom of allowing her to
strain her strength answering questions.

"I don't know," said she, "a long while. I was wrecked with two men from
a yacht. The _Gaston de Paris_. We came here in a boat. They are both
dead."

At the name _Gaston de Paris_ Raft nodded his head. Already a