p! Ross
plunged forward, thrusting a hand impetuously into the black mass of the
dead fire. To his astonishment, he touched warmth!

Hardly daring to disturb those precious bits of charcoal, he dug around
them, then carefully blew into what appeared to be dead ashes. There was
an answering glow! He could not have just imagined it.

From a pile of wood that had been left behind, Ross snatched a small
twig, poking it at the coal after he had rubbed it into a brush on the
rough rock. He watched, all one ache of hope. The twig caught!

With his stiff fingers so clumsy, he had to be very careful, but Ross
had learned patience in a hard school. Bit by bit he fed that tiny blaze
until he had a real fire. Then, leaning back against the rock, he
watched it.

It was now obvious that the placement of the original fire had been
chosen with care, for the outcrops gave it wind shelter. They also
provided a dark backdrop, partially hiding the flames on the landward
side but undoubtedly making them more visible from the sea. The site
seemed just right for a signal fire--but to what?

Ross's hands shook slightly as he fed the blaze. It was only too clear
why anyone would make a signal on this shore. McNeil--or perhaps both he
and Ashe--had survived the breakup of the raft, after all. They had
reached this point--abandoned no earlier than this morning, judging by
the life remaining in the coals--and put up the signal. Then, just as
arranged, they had been collected by the sub, by now on its way back to
the hidden North American post. There was no hope of any pickup for him
now. Just as he had believed them dead after he had found that rag on
the sapling, so they must have thought him finished after his fall in
the river. He was just a few hours too late!

Ross folded his arms across his hunched knees and rested his head on
them. There was no possible way he could ever reach the post or his own
kind--ever again. Thousands of miles lay between him and the temporary
installation in this time.

He was so sunk in his own complete despair that he was long unaware of
finally being free of the pressure to turn back which had so long
haunted him. But as he roused to feed the fire he got to wondering. Had
those who hunted him given up the chase? Since he had lost his own race
with time, he did not really care. What did it matter?

The pile of wood was getting low, but he decided that did not matter
either. Even so, Ross got to his feet, m