into a loose knot. Her beautiful muslin dress was rent and draggled. It
was drying rapidly under the ever-increasing power of the sun, and she
surreptitiously endeavored to complete the fastening of the open
portion about her neck. Other details must be left until a more
favorable opportunity.

She recalled the strange sight that first met her eyes when she
recovered consciousness.

"You hurt your finger," she said abruptly. "Let me see it."

They had reached the shelter of the trees, pleasantly grateful now, so
powerful are tropical sunbeams at even an early hour.

He held out his right hand without looking at her. Indeed, his eyes had
been studiously averted during the past few minutes. Her womanly
feelings were aroused by the condition of the ragged wound.

"Oh, you poor fellow," she said. "How awful it must be! How did it
happen? Let me tie it up."

"It is not so bad now," he said. "It has been well soaked in salt
water, you know. I think the nail was torn off when we--when a piece of
wreckage miraculously turned up beneath us."

Iris shredded a strip from her dress. She bound the finger with deft
tenderness.

"Thank you," he said simply. Then he gave a glad shout. "By Jove! Miss
Deane, we are in luck's way. There is a fine plantain tree."