Part 3 (1/2)

Claire began to grow cold, and her ankle pained her till she shook like a fevered person. He turned and sat up.

”You cold?” he managed to mutter.

She wanted to say ”No,” but her will was worn out. ”Yes,” she answered, ”very cold.”

He laughed a little guttural laugh as he drew off his coat. ”Take it,”

he said, dropping it near her hand.

She took the coat and drew it on. Lawrence was drinking again from the stream. She listened to him for a time, as she lay there in the darkness, then gradually her suffering and the strain under which she had been, won the victory over her consciousness, and she heard no more.

He lay where he was, half unconscious. At last he began to feel the chill of the place and drew himself up toward Claire. She did not move.

”We've got to do the best we can,” he thought, and moved close to her so that their bodies might warm each other.

CHAPTER III.

THE WAY OF THE PRIMITIVE.

Claire was the first to wake. She sat up and gazed around her. The morning sun was just breaking through a heavy fog that had drifted in from the ocean. Her clothes were damp, and she was chilled through, while her swollen and discolored ankle throbbed with steady pain. She looked down at the sleeping man beside her, and her forehead gathered in a little thoughtful frown. Then she looked around her again. Despite the knowledge of their desperate situation, she could not help noticing the beauty of the scene.

Great trees grew in ma.s.sive profusion all about them. Heavy tropical moss hung from the branches and trailed its green mat over the stones.

Birds were beginning to sing, their notes breaking the silence of the place in sharp thrills. Then she studied her companion. Finally, she laughed aloud.

”Lawrence,” she said gaily.

He turned and sat up, yawning drowsily. ”What is it?” he demanded.

”We are certainly the primitive pair.”

”H-m, I suppose. Anyhow, I feel better for my sleep.”

”It's beastly cold,” returned Claire, ”and my ankle is playing fits and jerks with me.”

”We'll have to do something about it,” he said earnestly. She did not answer.

”We can bind it up, I presume,” he went on. ”But it's a frightful inconvenience.”

”Admitted,” she said quickly. ”It can't be helped, however.”

”I'm very much for a fire,” he suggested, as though he had not noticed the hints of hardness in her voice.

”Some twenty feet ahead is a flat rock. We might build one there. Have you matches?”

He shook his head. ”We'll have to go it primeval.”

”But I don't see how,” she began.

”Never mind,” he answered, with a malicious grin. ”I do know some few things.”