held it. "It is not that. The water will not reach us. It is only that we
cannot return until the tide permit."

"Oh, well!" Chris's relief eclipsed her dismay. "That doesn't matter so
much," she said. "Let us get out of this horrid little tunnel, anyhow.
Oh, darling Cinders! He wants to kiss you. Do you mind?"

Bertrand laughed involuntarily. But she was droll, this English child!
Was it possible that she did not realize the seriousness of the dilemma
in which she found herself? Well, if not--he shrugged his shoulders--it
was not for him to enlighten her. As comrades in trouble they would
endure their incarceration as bravely as they might.

There was a faint spice of enjoyment in Chris's next remark: "Well, we
are all together, that's one thing, and we've got the cake for supper, if
we can only find it. Will you go first, please, so that I can hold on to
you. It will be nice to see the light again. What happened to the
lantern? Did you drop it?"

"I fell," he said. "I thought that I heard the good Cinders in front of
me, and I ran. I tripped and struck my head. It stunned me. _Après cela_,
I lay--_depuis longtemps_--insensible till I awoke and heard you singing
so far--so far away."

"Whistling," said Chris.

"I thought it was a bird at the dawn," he said, "flying high in the sky.
And I lay and listened."

"My dear _chevalier_, you wanted shaking," she interposed, with