Karain seemed to wake up from a dream. He said, "Ha!" shook himself as
if throwing off a burden. He looked round with assurance. Someone on
deck dragged off the skylight cover, and a flood of light fell into the
cabin. It was morning already.

"Time to go on deck," said Jackson.

Hollis put on a coat, and we went up, Karain leading.

The sun had risen beyond the hills, and their long shadows stretched
far over the bay in the pearly light. The air was clear, stainless, and
cool. I pointed at the curved line of yellow sands.

"He is not there," I said, emphatically, to Karain. "He waits no more.
He has departed forever."

A shaft of bright hot rays darted into the bay between the summits
of two hills, and the water all round broke out as if by magic into a
dazzling sparkle.

"No! He is not there waiting," said Karain, after a long look over the
beach. "I do not hear him," he went on, slowly. "No!"

He turned to us.

"He has departed again--forever!" he cried.

We assented vigorously, repeatedly, and without compunction. The great
thing was to impress him powerfully; to suggest absolute safety--the end
of all trouble. We did our best; and I hope we affirmed our faith in the