craft could live in such a sea, yet they hoped with an
intensity akin to despair that Shane had made the shelter of Katleean
Bay before the full fury of the storm was reached.

Night came on darker than usual, low scudding clouds and flying
wavetops seeming to mingle. Waves sheeted with foam faded ghost-like
into the tossing greyness. Drifts of rain blew stingingly in from the
sea. Cruel and cold the waters appeared now to Jean's anxious eyes,
and she found herself repeating again the lines of Gregg's verse, as if
it had become the tenets of her faith.

The second day of the storm passed as did the first, except that
evening brought a surcease of rain. The clouds in the west began to
lift. The sisters drawn closer by their common, mounting dread, slept
together that night, one on each side of Loll.

It was long before sleep visited Jean. But presently she was dreaming
that she dangled at the end of a rope over the cliff above the cavern,
trying to snatch nuggets from the rocky ledges. The wind blew her body
hither and thither, as she clutched the jutting crags. She tried
vainly to secure a foot or hand-hold. From above Gregg's voice was
calling, calling her plaintively, weirdly. She tried to make out his
words but could not. The wind blew them far away, and only a faint,
wild "Awh-hoo-oo-oo-oo!" came to her. Then her rope began to slip and
she was falling, falling interminably past the face of the precipice,
past shags' nests, past thousands of flapping birds who shrieked
tauntingly at her. With a convulsive movement she tried to spring to
the rock shelf below her--tried so hard that she woke trembling and in
a cold perspiration of dream-fear, with her heart pumping so loudly
that she could hear it.

The wind had died down and only the muffled beating of the great
combers on far seaward bars was audible, but--of a sudden she was bolt
upright in bed, listening with every sense alert. On the island, where
they three were the only human beings, someone, _something_ was
calling. Above the sound of the sea it came--the haunting, long-drawn
cry of her dream:

"Awh-oo-oo-oo! Awh-oo-oo-oo!"

But this was no dream. The cry came again, one minute apparently from
the depths of the ocean, then from the Lookout above the cabin. It
came nearer, growing more appalling, more mysterious in its
possibilities. It filled her with fearful, inchoate imaginings. . . .

In an agony of terror she reached out and shoo