"It is no use," she said at length, "the cartridges are wet. I cannot
get the empty cases out. But perhaps they may have seen or heard them.
Old Edward is sure to be watching for me. You had better throw the rest
into the sea if you can manage it," she added by way of an afterthought;
"we may have to swim presently."

To Geoffrey this seemed very probable, and whenever he got a chance he
acted on the hint till at length he was rid of all his cartridges.
Just then it began to rain in torrents. Though it was not warm the
perspiration was streaming from him at every pore, and the rain beating
on his face refreshed him somewhat; also with the rain the wind dropped
a little.

But he was becoming tired out and he knew it. Soon he would no longer be
able to keep the canoe straight, and then they must be swamped, and in
all human probability drowned. So this was to be the end of his life
and its ambitions. Before another hour had run its course, he would be
rolling to and fro in the arms of that angry sea. What would his wife
Honoria say when she heard the news, he wondered? Perhaps it would shock
her into some show of feeling. And Effie, his dear little six-year-old
daughter? Well, thank God, she was too young to feel his loss for long.
By the time that she was a woman she would almost have forgotten that
she ever had a father. But how would she get on without him to guide
her? Her mother did not love children, and a growing girl would
continually remind her of her growing years. He could not tell; he could
only hope for the best.

And for himself! What would become of him after the short sharp struggle
for life? Should he find endless sleep, or what? He was a Christian, and