s.
Though she was too tired to question him, Agatha supposed he had tied
one of the cows to a tree, since he returned three or four times to
fill the pail. What a wonderful life-giver the milk was! She had
drunk her fill and had tried to feed it to James, who at first tasted
eagerly, but had, on the whole, taken very little. He was only partly
awake, but he shivered and weakly murmured that he was cold. Agatha
quickly grew stronger; and she and Hand set to work to prepare the fire
and the bed. Almost while they were at this labor, the sun had gone
down.

Sitting by Jim's couch, Agatha grew sleepy and cold, but there were no
more coverings. Hand's coat was over Jim, and as Agatha herself felt
the cold more keenly she tucked it closer about him. Alone as she was
now, in solitude with this man who had saved her from the waters, with
darkness and the night again coming on, her spirit shrank; not so much
from fear, as from that premonition of the future which now and then
assails the human heart.

As she knelt by Jim's side, covering his feet with the coat and heaping
the fir boughs over him, she paused to look at his unconscious face.
She knew now that he did not belong to the crew of the _Jeanne D'Arc_;
but of his outward circumstances she knew nothing more. Thirty she
guessed him to be, thereby coming within four years of the truth. His
short mustache concealed his mouth, and his eyes were closed. It was
almost like looking at the mask of a face. The rough beard of a week's
growth made a deep shadow over the lower part of his face; and yet,
behind the mask, she thought she could see some token of the real man,
not without his attributes of divinity. In the ordeal of the night
before he had shown the highest order of patience, endurance and
courage, together with a sweetness of temper that was itself lovable.
But beyond this, what sort of man was he? Agatha could not tell. She
had seen many men of many types, and perhaps she recognized James as
belonging to a type; but if so, it was the type that stands for the
best of New England stock. In the centuries back it may have brought
forth fanatics and extremists; at times it may have built up its narrow
walls of prejudice and pride; but at the core it was sound and manly,
and responsive to the call of the spirit.

Something of all this passed through Agatha's mind, as she tried to
read Jim's face; then, as he stirred uneasily and tried to throw off
the light