possibly can, so when they get into trouble and things--it would be
easier for women to help them. Why, last year in the China Sea--with
Father and five of his friends--!"

A trifle shiveringly she shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, well, never mind
about Father and the China Sea," she retracted soberly. "It's only
that I'm so small, you see, and so flexible--I can crawl 'round most
anywhere through port-holes and things--even if they're capsized. So
we only lost one of them--one of Father's friends, I mean; and I never
would have lost him if he hadn't been so heavy."

"Hours?" gasped Barton irrelevantly. With a wry twist of his neck he
peered out through the darkness to where the freshening air, the
steady, monotonous slosh-slosh-slosh of rain, the pale intermittent
flare of stale lightning, proclaimed the opening of the cave.

"For Heaven's sake, wh-at--what time is it?" he faltered.

"Why, I'm sure I don't know," said little Eve Edgarton. "But I should
guess it might be about eight or nine o'clock. Are you hungry?"

With infinite agility she scrambled to her knees and went darting off
on all fours like a squirrel into some mysterious, clattery corner of
the darkness from which she emerged at last with one little gray
flannel arm crooked inclusively around a whole elbowful of treasure.

"There," she drawled. "There. There. There."

Only the soft earthy thud that accompanied each "There" pointed the
slightest significance to the word. The first thud was a slim, queer,