d,
and my heart lifted a silent prayer to God for guidance. A second
later I was beyond my depth, breasting the unknown waters, swimming
steadily toward the place where that mysterious spark had glimmered.
Once again it flashed, the barest glimpse of light through the intense
gloom; and I pressed on with new vigor, certain now it was a real
beacon. But I was so weakened by wounds and spent from exertion, and
such desperate work is swimming fully clad, that my progress proved
slow; and twice I was compelled to pause, paddling slowly on my back,
in the buffeting of the waves, in order to gain strength to renew the
struggle. I almost lost heart in the black loneliness, as the swirling
water swept me back and confused me with its ever-tossing motion. Once
I went down from sheer weakness, choking in a cloud of spray that swept
my face; and doubtless I should have let the struggle end in despair
even then, had not the spark leaped up once more through the deep haze;
and this time so close was it that my ears caught the clashing of the
flint and steel.

With the new hope of life thus given me, I pushed grimly forward, using
the silent Indian stroke that never tires, my eyes at the surface level
where the light of the moon glimmered feebly. At last I saw it,--the
black lumpy shadow of the boat. I must have splashed a little in my
weakness and excitement, for I plainly perceived the figure of a man
hastily leap to his feet, with an oar-blade uplifted threateningly
above his head.

"Don't strike, Burns!" I managed to cry aloud. "It's Wayland."

The next moment, with scarce so much as a breath remaining in my
battered body, I laid hand upon the boat's side, and clung there
panting and well-nigh spent. I felt his hands pressed under my arms,
and then, with the exercise of his great strength, he drew me steadily
up, inch by inch, until I topped the rail, and fell forward into the
bottom of the boat. An instant I rested thus, with tightly closed
eyes, my head reeling, my breath coming in sobs of pain, every muscle
of my strained body throbbing in misery. Scarcely conscious of what
was being done about me, I could still realize that arms touched my
neck, that my head was gently lifted to a softer resting-place, and
that a hand, strangely tender, brushed back from my forehead the wet
tangled hair. The touch was thrilling; and I unclosed my wearied eyes,
looking up into the sympathetic face of Mademoiselle. The faint
moo