At last, his hands and knees bleeding, he crawled upon the small, flat top of the mountain, five hundred feet above the breakers, three hundred feet above the woman he had left behind.
The sea wind whistled in his ears as he arose to his feet.

His knees trembled and he grew momentarily dizzy as he looked out over the vast, blue plain before him.

Fear seized upon him; there came a wild desire to plant his flag and hurry from the death-like summit.

Sitting down, he nervously unfastened the pole and flag, looking about as he did so for a place to plant the beacon.

For one moment his heart sank only to bound with joy in the next.