pointments of the lifeboat.

Thuran watched him on these occasions with an expression of malignant
pleasure--he seemed really to enjoy the suffering of the man who,
despite the just contempt in which he held him, had ministered to him
to the best of his ability while he lay suffering the same agonies. At
last Clayton became so weak that he was no longer able to descend from
the shelter. For a day he suffered for water without appealing to the
Russian, but finally, unable to endure it longer, he asked Thuran to
fetch him a drink. The Russian came to the entrance to Clayton's room,
a dish of water in his hand. A nasty grin contorted his features.

"Here is water," he said. "But first let me remind you that you
maligned me before the girl--that you kept her to yourself, and would
not share her with me--"

Clayton interrupted him. "Stop!" he cried. "Stop! What manner of cur
are you that you traduce the character of a good woman whom we believe
dead! God! I was a fool ever to let you live--you are not fit to live
even in this vile land."

"Here is your water," said the Russian. "All you will get," and he
raised the basin to his lips and drank; what was left he threw out upon
the ground below. Then he turned and left the sick man.

Clayton rolled over, and, burying his face in his arms, gave up the
battle.

The next day Thuran determined to set out toward the north along the
coast, for he knew that eventually he must come to the habitations of
civilized men--at least he could be no worse off than he was here, and,
furthermore, the ravings of the dying Englishman were getting on his
nerves. So he stole Clayton's spear and set off upon his journey. He
would have killed the sick man before he left had it not occurred to
him that it would really have been a kindness to do so.

That same day he came to a little cabin by the beach, and his heart
filled with renewed hope as he saw this evidence of the proximity of
civilization, for he thought it but the outpost of a nearby settlement.
Had he known to whom it belonged, and that its owner was at that very
moment but a few miles inland, Nikolas Rokoff would have fled the place
as he would a pestilence. But he did not know, and so he remained for
a few days to enjoy the security and comparative comforts of the cabin.
Then he took up his northward journey once more.

In Lord Tennington's camp preparations were going forward to build
permanent quarters, and then to