drowsiness. The planks of the raft seemed to fit their tired limbs. They gazed dreamily up into the vast sky of summer.
“This is great,” said the tall man. His companion grunted blissfully.
Gentle hands from the sea rocked their craft and lulled them to peace. Lapping waves sang little rippling sea-songs about them. The two men issued contented groans.
“Tom,” said the freckled man.
“What?” said the other.
“This is great.”
They lay and thought.
A fish-hawk, soaring, suddenly, turned and darted at the waves. The tall man indolently twisted his head and watched the bird plunge its claws into the water. It heavily arose with a silver gleaming fish.
“That bird has got his feet wet again. It’s a shame,” murmured the tall man sleepily. “He must suffer from an endless cold in the head. He should wear rubber boots. They’d look great, too. If I was him, I’d—Great Scott!”
He had partly arisen, and was looking at the shore.
He began to scream. “Ted! Ted! Ted! Look!”
“What’s matter?” dreamily spoke the freckled man. “You remind me of when I put the bird-shot in your leg.” He giggled softly.
The agitated tall man made a gesture of supreme eloquence. His companion up-reared and turned a startled gaze shoreward.
“Lord!” he roared, as if stabbed.
The land was a long, brown streak with a rim of green, in which sparkled the tin roofs of huge hotels. The hands from the sea had pushed them away. The two men sprang erect, and did a little dance of perturbation.
“What shall we do? What shall we do?” moaned the freckled man, wriggling fantastically in his dead balloon.
The changing shore seemed to fascinate the tall man, and for a time he did not speak.
Suddenly he concluded his minuet of horror. He wheeled about and faced the freckled man. He elaborately folded his arms.
“So,” he said, in slow, formidable tones. “So! This all comes from your accursed vanity, your bathing-suit, your idiocy; you have murdered your best friend.”
He turned away. His companion reeled as if stricken by an unexpected arm.
He stretched out his hands. “Tom, Tom,” wailed he, beseechingly, “don’t be such a fool.”
The broad back of his friend was occupied by a contemptuous sneer.
Three ships fell off the horizon. Landward, the hues were blending. The whistle of a locomotive sounded from an infinite distance as if tooting in heaven.
“Tom! Tom! My dear boy,” quavered the freckled man, “don’t speak that way to me.”
“Oh, no, of course not,” said the other, still facing away and throwing the words over his shoulder. “You suppose I am going to accept all this calmly, don’t you? Not make the slightest objection? Make no protest at all, hey?”
“Well, I—I—” began the freckled man.
The tall man’s wrath suddenly exploded. “You’ve abducted me! That’s the whole amount of it! You’ve abducted me!”
“I ain’t,” protested the freckled man. “You must think I’m a fool.”
The tall man swore, and sitting down, dangled his legs angrily in the water. Natural law compelled his companion to occupy the other end of the raft.
Over the waters little shoals of fish spluttered, raising tiny tempests. Languid jelly-fish floated near, tremulously waving a thousand legs. A row of porpoises trundled along like a procession of cog-wheels. The sky became greyed save where over the land sunset colors were assembling.
The two voyagers, back to back and at either end of the raft, quarrelled at length.
“What did you want to follow me for?” demanded the freckled man in a voice of indignation.
“If your figure hadn’t been so like a bottle, we wouldn’t be here,” replied the tall man.
CHAPTER III
The fires in the west blazed away, and solemnity spread over the sea. Electric lights began to blink like eyes. Night menaced the voyagers with a dangerous darkness, and fear came to bind their souls together. They huddled fraternally in the middle of the raft.
“I feel like a molecule,” said the freckled man in subdued tones.
“I’d give two dollars for a cigar,” muttered the tall man.
A V-shaped flock of ducks flew towards Barnegat, between the voyagers and a remnant of yellow sky. Shadows and winds came from the vanished eastern horizon.
“I think I hear voices,” said the freckled man.
“That Dollie Ramsdell was an awfully nice girl,” said the tall man.
When the coldness of the sea night came to them, the freckled man found he could by a peculiar movement of his legs and arms encase himself in his bathing-dress. The tall man was compelled to whistle and shiver. As night settled finally over the sea, red and green lights began to dot the blackness. There were mysterious shadows between the waves.
“I see things comin’,” murmured the freckled man.
“I wish I hadn’t ordered that new dress-suit for the hop tomorrow night,” said the tall man reflectively.
The sea became uneasy and heaved painfully, like a lost bosom, when little forgotten heart-bells try to chime with a pure sound. The voyagers cringed at magnified foam on distant wave crests. A moon came and looked at them.
“Somebody’s here,” whispered the freckled man.
“I wish I had an almanac,” remarked the tall man, regarding the moon.
Presently they fell to staring at the red and green lights that twinkled about them.
“Providence will not leave us,” asserted the freckled man.
“Oh, we’ll be picked up shortly. I owe money,” said the tall man.
He began to thrum on an imaginary banjo.
“I have heard,” said he, suddenly, “that captains with healthy ships beneath their feet will never turn back after having once started on a voyage. In that case we will be rescued by some ship bound for the golden seas of the south. Then, you’ll be up to some of your confounded devilment and we’ll get put off. They’ll maroon us! That’s what they’ll do! They’ll maroon us! On an island with palm trees and sun-kissed maidens and all that. Sun-kissed maidens, eh? Great! They’d—”
He suddenly ceased and turned to stone. At a distance a great, green eye was contemplating the sea wanderers.
They
