for them than for us."

"That is boasting," said Euphemia, a little reproachfully, "and it
does not sound like you."

I made no answer to this, and then she asked:--

"What do you think they will do when they come?"

"I think they will put a plank out here and pull us out."

Euphemia looked at me an instant, and then her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "it's dreadful! You know they couldn't do
it. Your mind is giving way!"

She sobbed, and I could feel the tremor run through the pelican.

"What do you mean?" I cried, anxiously. "My mind giving way?"

"Yes--yes," she sobbed. "If you were in your right senses--you'd never
think--that pelicans could bring a plank."

I looked at her in astonishment.

"Pelicans!" I exclaimed. "Did you think I meant the pelicans were
coming back?"

"Of course," she said. "That's what I was asking you about."