Wisbech disappeared among
the shadows.

"Get up," said Acton. "Wait until I get away, and then waken her."

It was a minute before Nasmyth, who stood up stiffly, quite understood
him, and then the blood rose to his face as he crept into the shelter
and touched the girl. She sprang to her feet with a little cry and
clutched his arm. Then she suddenly let her hand fall back, and her
cheeks flushed crimson.

"The steamer's close by," said Nasmyth reassuringly. "They have sent
for us at last."

They went out together, and it was a minute or two later when they
came upon Wisbech and Acton in the Bush. Nasmyth entered into confused
explanations as they proceeded towards the beach. The sky was a little
lighter when they reached it, and standing near the sinking fire,
they could dimly see the gig plunging amidst the froth and spray. Then
George's voice reached them.

"Can't you let us have them, Mr. Acton? It's most all we can do to
keep her off the beach," he said.

Acton glanced at the strip of tumbling foam--through which he had
waded waist-deep--between them and the boat, and Nasmyth turned
towards Miss Hamilton, who, to his astonishment, recoiled from him.
Acton, however, made him a sign of command.

"I guess," he said, "she'd be safer with you."

Nasmyth said nothing, but he picked the girl up, as unconcernedly as
he could, for the second time that day, and staggered down the rough
beach with her. He contrived to keep his footing when a frothing sea
broke against him, and, floundering through the seething water,
reached the lurching boat. George seized his burden, and gently
deposited it in one of the seats. Scrambling on board, Nasmyth groped
for an oar, and in another minute or two they laboriously drove the
gig out towards the blinking lights of the _Tillicum_.

CHAPTER XVIII

TRANQUILLITY

The afternoon was very hot when Nasmyth plodded down a steep hillside
through the thick red dust of the waggon trail. A fire had swept the
undergrowth away, and there was no shade among the trees which,
stripped of their branches, towered about him, great charred and
blackened columns. Close ahead the primeval Bush rose in an unbroken
sombre mass, and Nasmyth, who quickened his pace a trifle, sat down
with a gasp of satisfaction when he reached the first of the shadow.
It was fresh and cool there. The Bush was scented with the odours of
pine and cedar, and filled with the soft murmur of falling water,
while h