"Why shouldn't I come too?" demanded the eldest boy.

"Because the raft won't carry three. Maskull is a heavy man."

"It doesn't matter," said the boy. "I know where there is wood for
another raft. As soon as you have gone, I shall set to work."

Polecrab had by this time manoeuvred his flimsy craft to the position he
desired, within a few yards of the current, which at that point made
a sharp bend from the east. He shouted out some words to his wife and
Maskull. Gleameil kissed her children convulsively, and broke down a
little. The eldest boy bit his lip till it bled, and tears glistened in
his eyes; but the younger children stared wide-eyed, and displayed no
emotion.

Gleameil now walked into the sea, followed by Maskull. The water covered
first their ankles, then their knees, but when it came as high as their
waists, they were close on the raft. Polecrab let himself down into the
water, and assisted his wife to climb over the side. When she was up,
she bent down and kissed him. No words were exchanged. Maskull scrambled
up on to the front part of the raft. The woman sat cross-legged in the
stem, and seized the pole.

Polecrab shoved them off toward the current, while she worked her pole
until they had got within its power. The raft immediately began to
travel swiftly away from land, with a smooth, swaying motion.

The boys waved from the shore. Gleameil responded; but Maskull turned
his back squarely to land, and gazed ahead. Polecrab was wading back to
the shore.

For upward of an hour Maskull did not change his position by an inch. No
sound was heard but the splashing of the strange waves all around
them, and the streamlike gurgle of the current, which threaded its way
smoothly through the tossing, tumultuous sea. From their pathway of
safety, the beautiful dangers surrounding them were an exhilarating
experience. The air was fresh and clean, and the heat from Branchspell,
now low in the west, was at last endurable. The riot of sea colors had
long since banished all sadness and anxiety from his heart. Yet he felt
such a grudge against the woman for selfishly forsaking those who
should have been dear to her that he could not bring himself to begin a
conversation.

But when, over the now enlarged shape of the dark island, he caught
sight of a long chain of lofty, distant mountains, glowing salmon-pink
in the evening sunlight, he felt constrained to break the silence by
inquiring what they were.

"It is L