If that is so, our only hope is in the
raft which our three allies are now constructing. With a falling tide
we might have a breathing-space at low water. As it is, well--"
Christobal, with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other,
nevertheless waved them. Elsie, whose nervous system at this juncture
was proof against any but the last pang of imminent death, could almost
have laughed at the queer figure he cut, brandishing his arms and
standing awkwardly on the inclined deck. She bent her head to hide the
smile on her lips; she noticed that Joey was panting, the use of his
teeth on various wet legs during the tussle for the jolly-boat having
caused him to swallow more salt-water than he cared for. Elsie's
sympathies were aroused. While assuaging her own thirst she had
neglected the dog. She took a carafe of water from its wooden stand
near the table, and poured some of the contents into a tumbler. Joey's
thanks were ecstatic. He yelped with delight at the mere thought of a
drink.
While the dog was lapping a second supply, the _Kansas_ shifted again
with a disconcerting suddenness.
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