t prove to him that he was not entirely
worthless.

Then, before it was too late, he found his words. "Be brave," he
shouted hoarsely, "be brave! It is only death."

It would have seemed a preposterous supposition yesterday that the
private trader at Murder Point should ever be in a position to bid the
veriest scum among cowards to be brave. As he spoke, the intelligence
came back to Strangeways' eyes, the fear went out from them and the
features, losing their agony, straightened into an expression which
was almost grave. His hand became small in Granger's palm, as though
it were offering to slip away.

Some deep instinct stirred in Granger; he suddenly loved this man for
the self-denial which that act betrayed. If there was to be a denial
of self, however, he was emphatic that his should be the sacrifice.
Was it this thought of sacrifice which brought religion to his
mind--some haunting, quick remembrance of those wise words about
"dying for one's friend"?

Quite irrationally and without connection with anything which had
previously occurred, leaning yet further out at his own immediate
peril, shifting his grip to Strangeways' wrist that he might hold him
more firmly, he whispered, "Jesus of Galilee! Jesus Christ!"

The face of the drowning man took on an awful serenity, a look of
holiness, as if at sight of something which stood behind Granger,
which he had only just discerned. He even smiled. Suddenly, with the
determination of one who had concluded and conquered an old
temptation, he wrenched away his hand. Granger made one last effort to
reach him, but the tugging of the beast below the surface, or its dead
weight, had drifted him out of arm-stretch. He sank lower. The water
rose, almost leisurely it seemed as if now certain of the one thing it
had desired, higher and higher up his face till it had reached his
eyes, quenched them, and nothing was left but a few bubbles which
floated to the surface and broke, sparkling in the moonlight. Granger
did not stir; as he had been paralysed, he lay there rigid with the
black waters washing about his face and hands. Then very slowly, as
though reluctant not to die, he drew himself back. When he had reached
safety, rising up, he gazed around; the land looked more desolate
than ever. The first words which he said were spoken sacredly, with
bated breath. "And that man told me," he muttered, "that he was afraid
of death. . . . To prefer to die at such a time, rather than r