distress. In the shortness of his resources he dared not choose the
boldest exposures, where the first high wind would cast it down; but where
he placed it it could be seen from every quarter except the north, and any
sail approaching from that direction was virtually sure to come within
hail even of the voice.

Day had come again as he left the finished task, and once more from the
highest wind-built ridge his hungering eyes swept the round sea's edge.
But he saw no sail. Nerveless and exhausted he descended to the
southeastern beach and watched the morning brighten. The breezes, that for
some time had slept, fitfully revived, and the sun leaped from the sea and
burned its way through a low bank of dark and ruddy clouds with so unusual
a splendor that the beholder was in some degree both quickened and
tranquillized. He could even play at self-command, and in child fashion
bound himself not to mount the dunes again for a northern look within an
hour. This southern half circle must suffice. Indeed, unless these idle
zephyrs should amend, no sail could in that time draw near enough to
notice any signal he could offer.

Playing at self-command gave him some earnest of it. In a whim of the
better man he put off his clothes and sprang into the breakers. He had
grown chill, but a long wrestle with the surf warmed his blood, and as he
reclothed himself and with a better step took his way along the beach
toward his tent a returning zest of manhood refreshed his spirit. The hour
was up, but in a kind of equilibrium of impulses and with much emptiness
of mind, he let it lengthen on, made a fire, and for the first time in two
days cooked food. He ate and still tarried. A brand in his camp fire, a
piece from the remnant of his boat, made beautiful flames. He idly cast in
another and was pleased to find himself sitting there instead of gazing
his eyes out for sails that never rose into view. He watched a third brand