r face. She was deathly pale with emotion.

Percival was suddenly conscious of a mist bedimming his eyes.

Several people were grouped near them at the rail, listening to
Nicklestick. The stowaway joined them. As if sensing his presence, Ruth
turned suddenly and saw him.

"Oh!" she cried, tremulously. "Have--have you seen it, Mr. Percival?"

"No," he replied. "It won't be visible for an hour or so longer. It's
off there all right, though. The lookout, Captain Trigger and several
others got a glimpse of it before the sun began to pull the mist up
to obscure it for a little while. That's mist over there," he went on,
turning to Nicklestick. "You couldn't see the Andes Mountains if they
were where that strip of land is hidden. It won't be long, Miss Clinton,
before we all can see it."

"How far away is it?" she asked, controlling her voice with an effort.
"Do they know? Can they estimate?"

"I'll tell you what let's do," he said abruptly. "Let's go up on the sun
deck. I've got Mr. Gray's glasses. We can see better up there. Let me
assist you, Mrs. Spofford. The sun deck is pretty badly smashed up and
littered with all sorts of wreckage, but we can manage it all right."

Mrs. Spofford looked at him intently for a moment.

"I remember you now," she said. "Are you sure,--are you positive there
is land over there?"

"I have Captain Trigger's word for it."

"And mine, too," added Mr. Nicklestick. "You may rest assured, Mrs.
Spofford, that we will all be on dry land before many hours."

Percival leaned close to the speaker and said in a very low but emphatic
tone:

"You don't know a damn thing about it, so keep your trap closed. If
you're a man, you won't go on raising false hopes in the breasts of
these women."

Nicklestick's jaw fell. He whispered:

"My God,--ain't we--you don't mean to say there is a chance we won't be
able to--"

But Percival had turned away with the two women. Mrs. Spofford took his
arm, leaning heavily against him. Her figure had straightened, however.
He had given her the needed confidence.

They made their way up the steps leading to the topmost deck. Others had
already preceded them. A dozen men and women were looking out over
the sea through their binoculars. They recognized Landover, Madame
Careni-Amori (clutching her jewel case), Joseppi, Fitts and one or two
more. Olga Obosky was well forward, seated on the edge of a partially
wrecked skylight and ventilator. Her three dancing gi