g high. He did not answer.
He had heard no unusual sound, but he was not without faith in her.

"There!" she panted again. "Some one is hailing. Some one cried
'Elsie.' I am sure of it."

"Guess you'd better toot 'Arthur' on the off chance," said Gray.

Almost the last thing she remembered was the sound of her own wild
scream. There came back to her a stronger shout, and the bark of a
dog. She had a blurred consciousness of a whole troupe of men
scrambling down the choked ravine, of glad questions and joyous
answers, of a delirious dog leaping on board and yelping staccato
assurances that everything was all right in a most wonderful world.
Then she found herself in Courtenay's arms, and heard him say in a
rapture of delight:

"I owe my life to you, dear heart. That is the wonder of it. No need
to tell me you ran away from the ship. I know. One kiss, Elsie; then
full speed ahead for the _Kansas_. By the Lord, to think of it! You
here! At the very gate of the Inferno! Well, one more kiss! Yes, it
is I, none other, and fit as a fiddle. Never got a scratch. There,
now; I really must see to the crew. We must be ready for the turn of
the tide."

CHAPTER XIX

WHEREIN THE KANSAS RESUMES HER VOYAGE

The events of the next hour were shadowy as the dawn to Elsie. She
knew that her lover placed men in each of the canoes, that the
life-boat itself was crowded, and that it began the seaward journey
after the others had started. She followed his explanation that if one
of the lighter craft got into difficulties at the Indian barrier, the
big, heavy boat would be able to extricate it. But she feared neither
Indians nor sea. Had Courtenay proposed to sail away into the Pacific
she would have listened with placid approval. She was by his side;
that sufficed. For the rest, they lived in the midst of adventures.
What did it matter if they were called on to run the gauntlet of one
more ambuscade--or a dozen, if it came to that?

But they sped out of the twilight into the morning glory of the open
bay, and never a savage hoot disturbed the echoes. Some of the
Alaculofs had dragged a couple of canoes from beneath the trees and
raced off toward the village; others had followed a coast path known
only to them, while, if there were watchers by the side of that
mysterious river which flowed both ways with the tide, they kept a
silent vigil, awed by the force arrayed against them.

As the life-boat emerge