his arms, and fell heavily.

Mark was at his side in an instant to find that the poor fellow was
perfectly insensible, his face blackened with the heat, and his breath
coming heavily and in gasps.

"Over exertion," said Mrs O'Halloran as she hurried up. "The poor
fellow was done up before we started."

"Will--will he die?" faltered Mark.

"No, no," said the major's wife, "I've often seen men fall out of the
ranks exhausted like this by hot marches in India."

"But what is to be done?"

"Help me," said Mrs O'Halloran. "That's it, get your arm well under
his, close to the shoulder. Now together."

Mark followed her instructions, and together they dragged the poor
fellow over the sand, in spite of their exhaustion, right up under the
trees, and then let him sink down in the shade.

"Now, Mark, you go on and get help," said Mrs O'Halloran.

"And the Malays?" he said.

"They will not see us hidden here among the trees. They will pass us if
they come. Make use of your landmarks, so as to find us, and Heaven
give you good fortune, my dear boy!"

"No, no," cried Mark. "I cannot leave you all like this."

"It is to help us," said his mother. "Mrs O'Halloran is right. You
see we can get no farther."

Mark saw that his duty lay in fetching help, and after a sharp look-out
in the direction from which danger was expected, and another at the
salient points of the shore, so as to guide him to the point where the
ladies and the sick man were hidden, he forgot his own fatigue in the
excitement, and leaving arms, ammunition, and everything weighty, he
started off alone.

It seemed as if he would never reach that ridge of black rocks which
formed the eastern curve of Crater Bay, and even when it came in sight
there was a nightmare-like feeling upon him that he was no nearer.

Then, too, his despairing thoughts would keep getting the mastery, and
asking him what he was going to do when he reached the bay and found
that there was nothing visible but the charred hull of the ship, and
that his friends were gone.

At last, though, he could feel that he was nearing the black ridge; the
sand began to change from its yellow and white coral look, and became
dashed with black. Then it grew blacker, and at last the grains were
all jetty in colour, and there was the great black pile of basaltic
rock, with its columns and steps rising higher and higher, and the
question ever present:

Were his father and the rest all be