Then, hopeless of aid from his men, he returned to
the girl. She was exactly where he had left her, slightly crouching as
though to shut from her eyes the fearful red light.
The wind rush had revived her smoke-dimmed senses. When she was
approaching the star-board boat to which her father had directed her
she had lost her head, as persons will do in time of fire, and had
wandered mechanically, unconsciously, to her cabin and locked herself
in. But she was not frightened now. There was that in Dan which she
trusted. She looked at him strangely and smiled. She caressed him
with her eyes, trusting in, hanging upon, the strength of a man who
possessed in divine measure all of man's strength.
A half-hour they crouched together, until the steel walls of their
shelter burned to the touch, until the flames licked up over the
forward end, ran over the roof, and looked down upon them. But still
they remained as they were, while the _Tampico_ circled again and
brought the wind in their faces, which they drank greedily.
There came a time when the fire hissed constantly on the
deck-house--when, indeed, flames plunged around it and touched the two
figures. Swiftly Dan reached out his arm and encircled the waist of
his companion and drew her to the taffrail.
Four feet below the gilded name on the stern was a six-inch ledge.
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