ve of his, and some time or
other he will get me."

Reeves smiled at the gloomy fancy, and Helen smiled back at him with
one of her sudden radiances. The tide was creeping swiftly up over the
white sands. The sun was low and the bay was swimming in a pale blue
glory. They parted at Clam Point, Helen to go for the cows and Reeves
to wander on up the shore. He thought of Helen at first, and the
wonderful change that had come over her of late; then he began to
think of another face--a marvellously lovely one with blue eyes as
tender as the waters before him. Then Helen was forgotten.

The summer waned swiftly. One afternoon Reeves took a fancy to revisit
the Kelpy's Cave. Helen could not go. It was harvest time, and she was
needed in the field.

"Don't let the kelpy catch you," she said to him half seriously. "The
tide will turn early this afternoon, and you are given to
day-dreaming."

"I'll be careful," he promised laughingly, and he meant to be careful.
But somehow when he reached the cave its unwholesome charm overcame
him, and he sat down on the boulder at its mouth.

"An hour yet before tide time," he said. "Just enough time to read
that article on impressionists in my review and then stroll home by
the sandshore."

From reading he passed to day-dreaming, and day-dreaming drifted into
sleep, with his head pillowed on the rocky walls of the cave.

How long he had slept he did not know, but he woke with a start of
horror. He sprang to his feet, realizing his position instantly. The
tide was in--far in past the headlands already. Above and beyond him
towered the pitiless unscalable rocks. There was no way of escape.

Reeves was no coward, but life was sweet to him, and to die like
that--like a drowned rat in a hole--to be able to do nothing but wait
for that swift and sure oncoming death! He reeled against the damp
rock wall, and for a moment sea and sky and prisoning headlands and
white-lined tide whirled before his eyes.

Then his head grew clearer. He tried to think. How long had he? Not
more than twenty minutes at the outside. Well, death was sure and he
would meet it bravely. But to wait--to wait helplessly! He should go;
mad with the horror of it before those endless minutes would have
passed!

He took something from his pocket and bent his, head over it, pressing
his lips to it repeatedly. And then, when he raised his face again, a
dory was coming around the headland on his right, and Helen Fraser wa