icable
disturbance of spirit kept him from the warmth of the blankets. He
chose rather to slip on his trousers, and then again to gaze blindly
out into the mysterious dark of this new world. He found himself
hearkening intently for the varied calls of warning that went wailing
hither and yon. The mellow, softly booming, yet penetrant notes of the
conch-shells blown by the skippers of smaller craft, came almost
soothingly to his ears. All the others, harsher, seemed tocsins of
terror.

[Illustration:
_Clara Kimball Young under the direction of Lewis J. Selznick._
THE LOVERS ON STONE MOUNTAIN.]

Standing there at the port, with the floating drops of mist drenching
his face, Zeke fell into a waking dream. He was again clambering over
the scarped cliffs of Stone Mountain; beside him Plutina. His arm was
about her waist, and their hands were clasped, as they crept with
cautious, feeling steps amid the perils of the path. For over the
lofty, barren summit, the mist had shut down in impenetrable veils.
Yet, through that murk of vapor, the two, though they moved so
carefully, went in pulsing gladness, their hearts singing the old,
old, new, new mating song. A mist not born of the sea nor of the
mountain, but of the heart, was in the lad's eyes while he remembered
and lived again those golden moments in the mountain gloom. It seemed
to him for a blessed minute that Plutina was actually there beside him
in the tiny, rocking space of the fore-peak; that the warmth of her
hand-clasp thrilled into the beating of his pulses. Though the
illusion vanished swiftly, the radiance of it remained, for he knew
that then, and always, the spirit of the girl dwelt with him.

The mountaineer's interval of peace was rudely ended. A wild volley of
blasts from _The Bonita's_ whistle made alarum. Bells clanged
frantically in the engine-room close at hand. A raucous fog-horn
clamored out of the dark. To Zeke, still dazedly held to thought of
the mountains, the next sound was like the crashing down of a giant
tree, which falls with the tearing, splitting din of branches beating
through underbrush. An evil tremor shook the boat. Of a sudden, _The
Bonita_ heeled over to starboard, almost on her beams' ends. Zeke
saved himself from falling only by a quick clutch on the open port.
From the deck above came a contusion of fierce voices, a strident
uproar of shouts and curses. Then, _The Bonita_ righted herself,
tremulously, languidly, as one sore-stric